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sunflowersatori · 6 months ago

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Pasodoble

Word Count: 2K+

Contents: Your boss, Sir Crocodile requests that you attend a gala as his plus one so he can look less suspicious while spying. Feelings bubble to the surface in a night filled with extravagance. (Sir Crocodile x reader, pining, confessions, possessive Crocodile)

Notes: I love this man I really do. I'd do anything he asked me to.

“You want me to what?”

Crocodile looked up from his papers, “I want you to accompany me to a gala so I can gather some intel.”

You paused for a moment and then pursed your lips.

“You want me to be your plus one to a party so you can spy on people.”

“Problem, darling?” Crocodile smirked.

“Not with the spying part,” you waved your hand. You’d been Crocodile’s personal assistant for several years now. You knew what to expect from your boss, and a completely honest man he was not.

“Then what’s the issue?”

“It’s a party for people like you,” you gestured to him. “Extravagant rich people who live luxury lives with fine jewelry and fine clothing…Not a party for normal people like me.”

Crocodile raised an eyebrow, “Normal people hm? Well this isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

“Why can’t you go alone?”

“Too suspicious.”

“Well can’t you just hire someone?” You protested. “I’m sure there are loads of women who’d love to hang off your arm at a fancy party for a night.”

“I don’t trust some cheap escort. I trust you,” your boss levelled you with an even gaze as he lit up a cigar.

You sighed heavily.

“This is really non-negotiable, huh?”

“Afraid so, darling.”

“Fine,” you furrowed your brow, “but I’m taking the rest of the day off to go shop for something suitable to wear.”

Crocodile huffed, a cloud of smoke floating out from his mouth.

“There’s no need for that. I’ll have something sent to your apartment this afternoon, but if you want to take the rest of the day to work up the nerve to attend the party with me then go ahead.”

You rolled your eyes at the teasing tone of his voice and simply waved as you left his office.

You stood by the front door, anxiously fussing over your appearance in the mirror.

Crocodile would be arriving soon to pick you up, and even if you’d spent a few hours getting ready, you still didn’t feel prepared.

You looked in the mirror, sliding your hands over non-existent wrinkles in your dress. Someone else from Crocodile’s office had dropped it off that afternoon, and you knew from the brand label on the garment bag that it was expensive. It was breathtaking. Soft, emerald coloured velvet reaching down to the floor, hugging your curves in all the right places. A long slit ran up the side, exposing your leg and the gold heels that had been delivered to you with the dress.

With your hair done up, and a bit of subtle work with your makeup, you’d never felt more extravagant. Or more unfamiliar from your own reflection.

The colour scheme of your outfit was also not lost on you, and you were certain that Crocodile had grinned smugly when picking it out.

You sighed as you examined your appearance again. Just as you were wondering if you could pretend to be ill, you heard a knock at the door.

After another deep breath, you opened it. Crocodile was standing on your doorstep, filling the entire space with his presence.

He didn’t comment on your appearance as you stepped out to meet him and closed the door, merely giving you a quick once-over and huffing his approval. He offered his arm to you, and no sooner had you taken it that you both dissolved into sand, scattering away and reforming on the grand steps of a large estate.

You brushed stray grains of sand off of you as Crocodile smirked slightly.

“I hate when you do that.”

He chuckled lowly and started walking up the stairs, “Come, we wouldn’t want to be late.”

“Sir-”

“Lose the sir.”

You looked up at your boss, who was paused on the steps ahead, looking over his shoulder at you with an expression you couldn’t place.

“You’re not my assistant tonight,” he said softly, before continuing toward the entrance.

You stood frozen on the steps for a moment as your heart clenched before hurrying to catch up with him.

As you walked through the grand doors, Crocodile tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Wouldn’t want you getting lost now would we?” He said lowly, guiding you through the main foyer.

“How in the world would I get…lost…” you trailed off as the two of you stepped into a magnificent ballroom filled with an extravagantly dressed crowd.

Men in finely cut suits and women wearing exquisite gowns and covered in jewels mingled and laughed. Several waiters weaved through the party, handing out flutes of champagne and hor d'oeuvres. Large granite pillars lined the marble-floored ballroom, and works of art hung from the walls. Across the ceiling, masterfully painted frescoes were illuminated by large chandeliers dripping in crystals.

Crocodile gave you a pointed look and began to lead you through the crowd as you looked around in awe. Somewhere along the way he managed to snag some champagne for both of you, handing you a glass as he whisked you through the crowd.

“So, is this the kind of extravagant luxury you were expecting?” He asked, sipping his champagne.

“Not quite to this scale,” you said, still taking everything in. You took a sip of your drink. “It’s…a lot.”

Crocodile chuckled, “Don’t worry, darling. Just stick with me and everything will be alright.”

As he tucked you into his side and ushered you off into the crowd, you had the feeling things would be much less simple than that.

You were bored.

Even with all the sights and the glamour around you, you’d lost interest in the party after the third conversation that Crocodile had toted you along for, and that was an hour ago. Needless to say, you were done mingling for the moment.

You tapped Crocodile’s bicep as you left, and he nodded without breaking his conversation. Then you drifted over to a less crowded part of the room, grabbing another flute of champagne as you went. With your back pressed against the cool, smooth marble of one of the pillars, you let out a soft sigh of relief.

Despite your outfit and date for the evening, as you gazed out at the crowd, you still felt like a stranger in a new world. A thought briefly ran through your head, of Crocodile with a date much more suited to this extravagance than you. The idea made your stomach churn. Your boss was a busy man, often with little time left for the frivolities of finding a lover, but there had been a few times when he’d ushered some finely dressed woman away to private rooms at the casino. Each time it had not failed to make some twisted jealousy curl through you, immediately followed by guilt for wanting possession over a man you had no romantic claim on.

As you sat there stewing, a space was cleared in the centre of the ballroom and a band settled on a balcony overlooking the floor. Soon after, a dark waltz was floating through the air.

You sipped your drink as you watched couples take to the floor, a presence coming up behind you your only indication that your boss had left his conversation to join you. Crocodile’s hand settled on your back as he took your empty glass, passing it off to a waiter.

“Your mother used to dance, didn't she?” his voice rumbled.

You nodded, your eyes still on the dancers spinning around the floor, “She did.”

“Did she teach you?” Crocodile asked.

“Yes, but that was a long time ago…”

Crocodile leaned in closer, his voice dropping to near a whisper. “Try to remember…for me.”

A strange feeling came over you. Perhaps it was a combination of the sultry music and the low pitch of his voice as he loomed behind you like a cloak of darkness. All you could do was nod, and let him take your hand as he pulled you out of the crowd.

The feeling of his hook settling around your waist made you look down, and you realized that it wasn’t the one he usually wore. This hook pointed outward slightly at the end, as opposed to his normal hook which followed one continuous curve.

“See something interesting?”

You glanced up, and the neutral expression on his face almost fooled you into thinking the switch was a coincidence. But Crocodile was far too cunning to not have everything worked out beforehand if he could help it, and the calculating look in his eyes told you this was no accident.

He had planned on dancing with you, so he’d chosen a different hook to ensure he wouldn’t hurt you with the sharp curved tip.

And he knew that you’d figured it out.

Not for the first time that night, words eluded you. You shook your head, and Crocodile merely hummed in response, pulling you a bit closer as he began to lead the two of you around the room.

“Are you enjoying your evening, darling?”

“I am.”

“Good. I know you were concerned about fitting in, but I knew you’d do just fine. You’re with me after all.”

You could hear the sly smile in his voice, but it didn’t stop you from briefly imagining what it would be like to be Crocodile’s lover.

It wasn’t the first time that such a thought had crossed your mind. There had been moments in the past when a brush of hands exchanging papers lasted a bit too long, or a shared look had felt a bit too intimate. Crocodile often doted on you, citing your hard work and loyalty as his reasons to send you gifts.

You’d be lying if you said you harboured no feelings for him. You kept all that tucked carefully away, though, knowing you’d surely be cast off from his side if he ever found out. And yet, in private moments, when you knew you were able to safely think about your desires, his face would cross your mind.

You could feel your cheeks burning a bit, so you focused your gaze on Crocodile’s chest, trying to keep your face from heating under his gaze.

“Mm, took you long enough to reveal yourself.”

Your head shot up, thinking you’d been found out, only to find Crocodile staring out at the crowd. You followed his gaze, seeing two men in sharp suits exchange whispers and begin to head away from the group and down a hallway.

You sighed and shook your head, your boss’ shifted attention allowing you to refocus on what your role was in his life. The song ended, and Crocodile pulled away, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a light kiss to your knuckles.

“I’ll find you when I’ve gotten what I needed, darling.”

“Yes, yes, go do something illicit,” you waved him off, deciding to go get another drink. Whether to clear your head or distract yourself, you weren’t sure.

You slid onto a stool at the bar counter, ordering a drink and taking a long sip once it was served to you.

“Get a hold of yourself,” you muttered quietly, rubbing your temple and squeezing your eyes shut. Regardless of who you were posing as tonight, you were Crocodile’s assistant, not his partner.

With a heavy sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and ordered another.

It had been a decent amount of time since Crocodile had gone off.

You’d remained at the bar, observing the crowd and watching for the return of your boss, but had yet to see him. You were beginning to wonder if you should go look for him when a man slid up next to you, far too close for comfort.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone at the bar,” the man cooed, and you cringed.

“Just having a drink and waiting for my date.” You turned away, hoping it would dissuade the stranger.

“Your date left you alone? Damn he must be stupid. I’d never leave such a beautiful woman to sit by herself. You never know who could come along and steal her away,” the man said, leaning in closer.

You leaned away, calling over the bartender to settle your tab before you were pursued further.

“Bet I could treat you better than your date.”

“Sorry, I’m not interested,” you said, trying to be polite in the face of the stranger’s inability to read your cues.

You slid off your stool, making to walk away when a hand grabbed your wrist, tugging you back toward the bar.

“C’mon, doll. Give a guy a chance won’t you?” He whispered into your ear.

His hand grazed up your arm, stopping cold when a gold hook yanked him by his tie away from you and toward the snarling expression of Sir Crocodile.

“That’s not yours,” he growled, the stranger’s eyes widening in fear and recognition.

The man struggled as he was held aloft, your boss being a good two and a half feet taller. “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know she was yours! I’ll leave her alone I promise! Let me go, please!”

Crocodile merely sneered, “You think begging will save you?”

You could only stand there frozen and watch. The wrath on Crocodile’s face was something you usually only saw directed at his enemies, but now it was being used in your defence.

No, not just in your defence, out of possessiveness.

The sound of the stranger continuing to plead for his life took you out of your stupor.

“Crocodile,” you hissed at your boss, watching your surroundings as people started to notice the commotion. “You’re making a scene.”

Your boss finally tore his eyes away from the vicious glare he had been sending the other man and looked down at you. He held your gaze for a few moments before exhaling and dropping the man unceremoniously. Then he stalked over to the balcony off to the side of the ballroom.

You followed hurriedly, nearly jogging to catch up to Crocodile’s long strides. When you emerged, he had already shoved a cigar between his teeth, though he was still frowning as you set your hands on the railing next to him.

The night air was cool, and you tried to take a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart, but all you could focus on was your boss fumbling with his lighter next to you and mumbling curses under his breath. He was angry, and anger made him unfocused.

You sighed and turned to him, grabbing a hold of his collar and yanking him down a bit so you could reach his face. You took the lighter from his hand, feeling him watch your every move as you easily struck it up and held it to his cigar.

Crocodile’s eyes met yours as the cigar lit, and he held your gaze as he took the first long inhale before straightening up and tilting his head slightly to exhale a cloud of smoke.

He grunted out a thank you, and you nodded. You let him smoke in silence for a while, allowing the nicotine to settle into his lungs and ease his tension. Once you’d decided he’d calmed down enough, you looked up at him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Well too bad,” You said, frowning at him a bit. “What was that back there?”

“He had no right touching you,” Crocodile muttered around his cigar.

“And that gives you warrant to end his life?” You asked, frustration and confusion tinting your voice.

“It does because you’re mine, and nobody touches my things,” he growled, turning his gaze to you.

The fire in his eyes should have been frightening, instead it only made a flicker of heat go through you.

Crocodile reached out, grabbing your cheeks with his hand. “Sometimes I wonder whether you are truly human, or whether the gods sent you to me as punishment for the deeds I’ve done.” He tilted your face back and forth, examining you. “You bring out a weakness in me I am unable to control. A primal desire to claim you and let no one else have you.”

At this point, you were sure your cheeks were red, and eyes wide from the confession.

“Such a pretty thing, so loyal,” Crocodile murmured, “Forgive me for wanting to keep you all to myself, darling…I’m only a man, and a selfish one at that.”

“Sir,” you whimpered softly, “What does all this mean?”

Crocodile released your face with a sigh and took another puff from his cigar. “It means that I need to face the feelings I’ve been so desperate to quell and ask politely if you’d allow me to court you.”

You stood there in shock, your mind unable to comprehend that your deepest desires were being offered to you freely.

“You…you want to court me?”

“Yes. I want to spoil you in any way that I can and give you everything you want,” Crocodile said earnestly. “I understand this is out of the blue, you can have some time to consider my offer if-”

“Yes.”

Crocodile’s hand paused midway to his mouth, the cigar nearly slipping from his fingers.

“Yes. I want that…I want you,” you said softly, reaching out and gently tracing your fingers across his jaw.

The man let out a pleased hum, stubbing his cigar out and tucking you into his side. “Good. Then let’s leave this stuffy party and go somewhere private. I need a drink, and to properly explain my intentions to you.”

As he whisked you through the ballroom and out of the building, you bit back a smile, content at how he held you closer than he had before, and excited for what was to come.

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op sir crocodile #one piece sir crocodile #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader

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shadowdaddies · 9 months ago

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Distraction

Azriel x Reader

A/N: I keep thinking about how this scene from Captain America: the Winter Soldier would fit so well for Azriel x reader on a spy mission

warnings: none

A knock on your door shook you from your daze, wide eyes alert in a prepared defense until you heard the familiar voice rumble lowly through the wooden doorway.

“Are you ready?” Azriel questioned, rough voice sending an unrecognizable thrill through you as you strode towards the door. Turning the handle, you looked up to see hazel eyes darkening as the striking Illyrian swallowed, gaze raking over your form in the fitted dress you’d donned for the evening.

“Ready, Az,” you nodded, allowing yourself the guilty pleasure of admiring your friend’s appearance. He was dressed in a fitted all-black ensemble, tailored to show his impressive physique and highlight his features. He looked like a Prince of Darkness as he stepped to the side, holding out an arm for you to take.

“You look very nice, Azriel,” you smiled, playfully nudging him with your shoulder as he led you down the hall to the grand ballroom.

He stiffened slightly at your words, as though shocked by the compliment, before he turned to face you. “You look...” he paused, taking a deep breath when he stepped back to look at you. Something sparked in your chest when he spoke again. “You look beautiful.”

Nodding, you looked away in an attempt to hide your blush as well as Azriel had hidden his shadows for the evening. You were both undercover from the Night Court, attending this ball in Hybern to find information on potential traitors.

Since the war was won, Prythian had absorbed the kingdom of Hybern, but many were still resistant to the ideals of the Continent. You were sent with Azriel to the new ruler of Hybern’s birthday celebration to gather intel, searching for those who might pose a threat to the High Lord and Lady’s restructured kingdom.

With Azriel’s shadows, he would be quickly identified as the infamous shadowsinger of the Night Court, but with his shadows hidden and you by his side, you could blend in with the other fae relatively easily.

Which is why you now carried your shimmering skirts, shoes clicking down the marble floored halls with Azriel on your arm. You had expected to be more nervous going into the event, but something about Azriel’s touch kept you grounded, feeling calmer than ever.

Approaching the double doors that led to the grand ballroom, you nodded your appreciation to the guards who opened the doors for you both. Words escaped you at the beauty of the room before you, murals of fairies from old lining the walls along with gilded chandeliers and twinkling faelight. It was beautiful and romantic, a far cry from what you had imagined Hybern to be.

Feeling a tug on your arm, you looked up to see Azriel flashing you a knowing grin as he guided you towards a servant. Picking up two drinks from their tray, he murmured appreciation to them before handing you a glass. You half-expected him to say something about the beauty of the evening, but surprise didn’t find you with his words.

“Remember our story. Keep it vague and learn what you can tonight,” Azriel murmured, his warm hand rubbing affectionately on your waist at odds with his words. You nodded, remembering your role new mates as your role for the night, and that his touch meant nothing more.

Twining your fingers with his, you led Azriel to a couple who stood by the hearth, smiling as they both listened to the band play its lively tune. You chatted with them, learning the gossip about several royal families who did not approve of the new structure in Hybern.

“Well done,” Azriel murmured, his lips warm against your knuckles as he pulled them, twirling you in a playful move across the dance floor closer to the next target for intel.

You wished the giggle that escaped you was more effort than it was, but something about you was truly drawn to Azriel. He was gentle with you, but fiercely defensive of those he cared for. A skilled warrior and good friend.

Swallowing, you willed your emotions beneath the surface to plaster on your face of grace. Swiping another glass of faerie wine, you focused on the faux feelings you’d manufactured for the evening, ignoring those you really felt towards Azriel as best you could.

You were deep in conversation, laughing and joking with the female visiting from Vallahan when Azriel’s fingers tensed around your waist. Feigning ignorance, you smiled lazily at your ��mate.”

“Is everything alright, my love?” You asked - the question you’d planned beforehand if anything unplanned were to arise.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you, more wild than you had ever seen his bright hazel eyes. “I am just aching for a dance with my mate, is all,” he purred, teasing voice betraying the shaking fingertips that hovered your hips.

With audible “awws” and cooing at two new mates who couldn’t resist to be apart, the other fae ushered you towards the busy dance floor, where Azriel took your hand and waist, back held in surprisingly impressive form.

“I know the male in the opposite corner from where I face,” Azriel whispered in your ear, soft as if he were telling you sweet nothings. You ignored the hitch in your breath, gaze flicking briefly to a tall, burly male in the corner whose own eyes flicked to Azriel with curiosity.

“Come with me,” you whispered back, not missing how Azriel shivered at your lips on his ear. He followed you, hands loosely intertwined while you wove through the crowd towards the dark corner of the room opposite from the suspecting male.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the male moved through the ballroom, gaze scanning the crowd including yourselves as though he were looking for someone.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, pulling Azriel’s body tight against your own, which was pressed to the cold wall.

“W-what?” he choked out, and you had to bite back your grin at the uncharacteristically flustered spymaster.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. Kiss me,” you demanded, willing yourself not to look to the presence you could sense nearing you.

Azriel’s eyes practically glowed as he searched your face, searching for affirmation before one hand found your waist, the other wrapping around the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a deep kiss.

An electric energy shot through you, the spark hitting your chest hard enough to steal your breath at the feeling of his soft lips on your own. You melted into the kiss with ease, both of your bodies interlacing like two halves of a whole.

You were dizzy for air, completely forgetting everyone else around you when Azriel pulled away, his eyes wide with something that looked like shock.

Pushing back, you scanned the area for potential threats before deciding you couldn’t find anything. “Azriel, what happened? Are you okay?” You whispered, thumb stroking his cheek to keep up the charade of new mates.

“I- you’re my...” Azriel stuttered, just as you caught sight of the suspicious male slipping out onto the balcony.

“Come on, Az. Let’s see what they’re up to,” you whispered, keeping a note in your mind to ask him what he was distracted by at a later time.

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charliemwrites · 5 months ago

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Chapter 4

Content: Threats/Expectation of Torture, Dub-Con, Consensual Non-Consent Elements, Hurt/Comfort

The lines are getting thinner. Day by day, touch by touch. The parts of you that buck and bray against captivity begin to settle into the dangerous clutches of this isn’t so bad.

It’s exhausting to resist, especially when every part of you isn’t unilaterally aligned. The boundary between deep, dark desire and actual circumstance is narrowing into something you can’t discern anymore. Blurring into a strange delirium. Mornings with Ghost’s fingers inside you and afternoons warming Johnny’s cock. Meals prepared by hands that have snuffed as many lives as your own. A voice that once menaced you now lulls you to sleep.

Every interaction is a double-edged blade of seduction and condemnation. You moan at the tug of a collar you’re not free to remove. Johnny leans into the same hand that just bruised his wrist. A dozen scenarios that walk the line, never tipping either of you towards or away from Ghost.

It's things like Johnny waking in the dead of night, screaming. You know what’s going on even half-asleep; the same dream-memories lock you into burning paralysis. He’s clutching at his shoulder, fingers of the same arm spasming. Coughing on phantom smoke, seeing a night sky polluted by columns of flame instead of the ceiling.

“Kit! Kit!” he rasps, painful and terrified.

“Johnny, I’m here,” you call back, heart pounding. “Johnny, wake up! It’s over, we’re okay!”

You tug fruitlessly at the collar, at the chain. It’s useless, you know it is, but you can’t just sit there and watch him suffer again. Hate Ghost and this house and your own compliance with the same fire that nearly engulfed you and Johnny.

A shadow moves at the edge of your vision. Ghost.

You beg him to let you go to Johnny, to let you help. He ignores you for the moment, kneeling at Johnny’s side and rolling him onto his back. Speaks him back to reality, voice low and gravelly, reminding of details he has no right to know – how long you both spent in the hospital, the day of your mutual discharge, the months you two spent in physical therapy.

You want to cry, want to scream, want to be there with them. But Johnny’s finally calming down and you won’t ruin it all by losing your threadbare composure.

The first thing he asks when he’s got his breath, mumbling and fuzzy, “Where’s Kit?”

Ghost crosses back to you, unlocks the chain. You scramble to Johnny’s side in an instant, practically crashing into his chest as he reaches for you. He breathes deep when you gather him in, pressing his wet face to your neck.

“I’m here, I’m okay,” you whisper, shaky hands squeezing at his sore shoulder.

His own trembling, clammy hands paw your shirt up, press to the scarring on your hip. Assuring himself it’s healed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, “I never should have gone in—”

“You were doing your job,” you interrupt. Unwilling to relive the memory again or let him torture himself with it. “And I did mine.”

The cushion shifts behind you. Thick arms circle you and Johnny, guide you back against a sturdy body. Like this, Ghost feels more solid than the ground. You want to hate him. Could – should – blame him for Johnny suffering alone and resent that he comforted him first. You find yourself leaning into his strength and warmth instead.

“Not your fault the intel was bad, pup,” Ghost murmurs, carding fingers through Johnny’s sweaty mohawk.

Eventually, you and Johnny start to doze. Snuggling in with sleepy sighs and the reassurance of the other’s presence. You (or maybe Johnny) might even whine a bit when Ghost shifts as if to leave, clinging onto his sleeve. Either way, you wake the next morning to Johnny sandwiched between you two. For a man who doesn’t even let you see his face, it’s unexpectedly… intimate.

Johnny spends most of the next day in a mood about it – ends up forced to cum scraping his cock against the laces of Ghost’s boots by lunchtime.

And that should be the tipping point, right? Or at least one of them. The awful decadent violating addictive things he does to you two.

You stray too far one morning, thought you heard something in the basement, and he puts you on your knees in the living room. Forces your thighs apart with his boots imprinting the tender skin of your thighs. Grinds the tread against your crotch until you’re squirming and teary. It’s uncomfortable… but also makes you whimper for more, body on fire and apologizing into his thigh just for a bit of relief.

Johnny mouths off for the third time in an hour – was already warned twice. Ghost makes you edge Johnny for two hours, fingers in his hole and tongue flicking over his cock.

“Been gagging for the kitten to do this to you for a while, eh, mutt?” Ghost coos, pinning Johnny’s wrists above his head. “I know it’s one of your favorite fantasies.”

And then when Johnny seems like he’s at the breaking point, Ghost makes you milk his prostate until he loses his voice entirely.

And that’s just when Ghost is in a good mood.

He comes down one morning visibly irritable. Eyes dark, shoulders tense. All his movements are short and quick, almost aggressive. When you try to ask him if something is wrong at breakfast, he grunts at you to shut up and eat. And when Johnny makes a snippy comment about “bad manners,” Ghost forces his jaw open and lifts his mask just enough to spit in his mouth.

Then he storms out the door without another word. Johnny’s left flushed, awkwardly pressing the heel of his hand against the bulge in his joggers.

Ghost returns hours later and doesn’t seem any less moody. In fact, he seems worse now. You and Johnny exchange glances. He’s already cooking up mischief, you can see it from across the room. Never did learn when to leave well enough alone. All it takes is for you to subtly shake your head at his little smirk. That might as well be a greenlight.

“Well then, Ghost?” he drawls.

Ghost, who’s been aimlessly (peacefully) flipping through channels, stops. Not that he was fidgety before, but at the smarmy note in Johnny’s voice, he gets stony. You grimace and shoot Johnny another staying look. Mouthy little bastard you may be, you’ve always had a good sense for when to shut your stupid mouth. Your serial killer kidnapper being in a shit mood is one of those times.

“Ya done sulking yet? Gonna tell us who pissed in yer cornflakes?” Johnny continues, lounging against the wall with his first arms folded behind his head. “You gonna pack your shit in or keep being a bellend?”

You feel the exact moment that Ghost’s patience snaps. The room goes cold.

He drops the tv remote onto the cushion next to him, cracks his neck, and exhales deeply. Then stands and lopes across the room. Not to Johnny.

To you.

“Ghost—” you yelp, scrambling back. Don’t get far. He snags two thick fingers around the collar and jerks you away from the wall.

“Hey!” Johnny shouts. “Hey, yeah radge bastard! I’m the one that pissed you off.”

Struggling is no use, you know that. Still, you jerk and squirm, heart pounding. Draw your fist back, only to have it caught in an iron grip. It’s going to bruise, your bones ache.

“Fucking do it,” Ghost growls, lower and rougher than you’ve ever heard. Beyond the balaclava, his gaze is burning coal. “See what happens, kitten.”

When he releases your arm, you can’t bring yourself to follow through. All your strength is just in keeping your spine straight. The unspoken threat – his sharp-toothed, blood-hungry encouragement – leeches all but survival from your body.

No praise comes for choosing the wise path this time. You tremble in its absence.

The chain slithers away. Even if you thought running would do any good, you can’t collect your legs to try. Ghost doesn’t ask (or demand) that you do. Hand still hooked in your collar, he starts dragging you along, crawling on hands and knees at his side.

Johnny is still protesting, volume and desperation rising like a tide, flooding the room with impotent panic. You can’t make out individual pleas, the crashing waves of your own fear too loud in your ears. Ghost’s silence is roiling, violent.

You get halfway down the hall before realizing your destination. The inconspicuous white door looms ahead, sinister. You can’t swallow the scream that tears from your throat.

“No, no, Ghost you promised!” you cry, bucking and thrashing.

You manage to slip his hold and fall back, twisting and scrambling to escape. Just stumble halfway to your feet, about to cross the threshold back to the den. See Johnny’s huge, regretful eyes and blanched face, mouth parted as he strains towards you.

Then cruel arms circle your waist and yank.

“No!” you shriek, kicking at air. Ghost doesn’t even grunt with the effort of hauling you down the hall. “No, Ghost, please!”

The locks are open you realize as cool air rushes past. Your efforts double, but he easily drags you down a set of wooden stairs. All you do is earn a threatening hand around your hitching throat. You sob as shadows swarm, hiccupping that he promised over and over.

Your feet brush cold, flat concrete.

The basement.

He drops you onto something hard, flat, and wooden a few feet above the ground. Your legs hang over the edge, feet swinging. A table. Ghost’s black silhouette blots out the meager light daring to peek in from the hallway.

“G-Ghost,” you choke out.

You expect to be shoved down, tied prone and helpless. Wait for the bite of a blade, the prick of a needle, the cold kiss of a gun. Brace yourself for it, scrabbling for any of the stoic demeanor you once armed yourself in.

You nearly scream again at the touch of warm hands. Not a tight grip around your throat, or a brutal fist to your face, or even strong fingers breaking yours. It’s the firm (but not painful) press of a palm over your mouth and its twin spanning your hip.

“Take a deep breath.”

You peer through watery eyes, trying to find his. With the light behind him, even his gaze is obscured. All you have his voice. Low as it is, he seems… calmer than you expect.

You obey.

“Another.”

You breathe in slowly, exhale evenly.

“Good.” Relief makes you so dizzy that your eyes flutter. Ghost shakes you a bit. “Listen, little one.”

You blink up at him, take another breath, and nod for him to continue.

“I need to get some frustration out and the pup needs to learn a lesson.” He sweeps his thumb over the curve of your hip. You shiver, confused and still frightened, but still trained to react to his touch. “You just need to put on a good show, yeah?”

You try to speak, but his hand doesn’t move, so you settle for making a questioning noise.

“I’m going to torture you,” he explains, as casual as telling you what’s for dinner. “And you’re going to convince the mutt that you hate it.”

His hand slips from your hip to your groin, rocking meaningfully. Tentative understanding dawns with a golden ray of hope.

“The alternative is that Soap takes your place,” Ghost muses in your silence, mistaking it for reluctance. “I won’t be nearly as… humane with him.”

You protest wordlessly, shaking your head.

“No?” he mocks. “You’ll be good for me, then? Let me use you to teach that brat a lesson?”

You nod. Guilt gnaws at you for getting off (literally) so easy when Johnny is up there out of his mind on fear and his own guilt.

That sentiment doesn’t last long.

Ghost rips your clothes away with a growl, leaving them in tatters beneath you. You yelp, genuinely shocked. He moved so fast. There’s nothing teasing or seductive about him, not this time. None of the patience or measure from every previous encounter.

Sharp teeth scrape your jaw, beneath your ear, over your collarbones. Harsh fingers pinch and twist your pebbled nipples until you arch with a shout. He forces his big body between your thighs, grinding your quickly warming groin against unforgiving denim and the bulge hidden beneath.

“Stop, stop!” you cry, half-meaning it, head spinning. “Ghost, please!”

He doesn’t. If anything, your pathetic pleas spur him on.

Your underwear is discarded with another tear of fabric, exposing you to cool air and a mean man.

Ghost’s mouth closes around you, sucking hard, tongue flicking. You scream. High-pitched, wounded. Would jackknife right off the table if not for the merciless pin of your hips. Sounds claw up your throat and leap from your parted lips. You’re not in control of them, not with the way he’s slurping, growling, just the faintest hint of teeth to keep your voice octaves too high.

“No, no, please stop!” you keen.

He shoves two fingers in your gaping mouth, gags you on them until you’re coughing and gasping wetly. Awful, desperate sounds. You throb.

Those fingers circle your hole.

“Don’t!” you wail. “Please, Ghost, not that. I can’t—”

You shriek as one finger pushes inside. Nothing slow or gentle about it, a firm and unrelenting push. He doesn’t wait for you to recover or catch your breath. That single finger pumps in and out of your uncertain body, mechanical. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels dangerous. You squeeze your eyes shut and beg again for him to stop.

In answer, he pulls away long enough to spit directly on your twitching, sensitive hole. Then wedges the second finger alongside the first. This time your scream ends on a sob as his fingers pet your walls. It’s not quite painful, but it feels like it should be. It’s too much. Your body doesn’t sing, it screams for him.

Ghost has already mapped out all the places that make you shake and cry and beg. He seals his mouth around you again, and you’re gone. Bawling and kicking at air, he forces you over the edge faster than anyone ever as.

He works you through it, sticky wetness dripping down to ease the stretch of a third thick finger. Worse still, he doesn’t even slow, keeps going like you haven’t cum at all.

“It hurts!” you sob. “Please, it hurts, I can’t!”

He uses his free hand to toy with your nipples again, adding another layer of overwhelming sensation that melts your brain. The overstimulation almost burns, you can’t tell if it’s ice-cold or white-hot. Just know that your nerves are shot, and yet you’re still rocking into his touch just that slightest damning bit. Because it’s not just too much, it’s not enough. You’re stuffed with his fingers, but you ache for more, for…

“Please, Ghost,” you breathe, hushed and desperate. “Please, fuck me.”

He pulls away with a filthy pop. “Fuck you?” he repeats. There’s a malicious smirk in his voice.

“Please,” you confirm, “please, I want it. D-don’t you want to…?”

He doesn’t answer – not with words. A noise thunders from his chest that raises goosebumps, freezes your blood, and burns through you like wildfire. You don’t know if you’re afraid or aroused, can’t tell if you want to run or bare your throat. It wouldn’t matter regardless. Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore.

You yelp as Ghost slides his fingers out agonizingly slow, pressing against your walls the entire way. His shifts, tugging your ass to the edge of the table and bowing up over you. Sharp teeth nip at the edge of your collar as the blunt head of his cock rubs against your aching entrance. Anticipation and trepidation chase each other through your veins, leave you shaking so hard you’re surprised the table isn’t rattling.

“Relax,” Ghost rumbles in your ear, “or don’t. Won’t make a difference to me.”

There’s nothing gentle or gradual about it, no consideration for his own size or your body’s limits. Just a hot, unrelenting press. You keen as your poor, oversensitive hole yields beneath the onslaught. It burns, you can’t breathe, he doesn’t let you adjust even once the flared head is tucked snuggly inside. Just keeps cramming his fat cock deeper and deeper.

You’re lightheaded when he bottoms out an eternity later. It feels like all the air has been forced from your lungs, like there isn’t room for anything but Ghost. And then he rocks back and slams home again.

This time, the table does rattle.

You grip desperately at the sides, nails scraping. He fucks into you viciously, teeth glinting in a half-feral snarl. There’s no consideration for your pleasure, but he still sends your eyes rolling back with every thrust. You’re too gone, dumb on ecstasy, probably drooling.

A rough hand shoves your thigh back, bending your knee to your chest. His cock rams into your g-spot and your voice breaks on the wail that follows. He shortens his thrusts, half pulling out before plunging back inside, ruthlessly abusing that bundle of nerves, snarling as your walls flutter and spasm.

“No, no, no, not again,” you babble but it’s too late.

The pleasure rapidly overflows into a mind-numbing orgasm, whiting out everything but the exquisite torture of Ghost pounding you through it. This time you can’t even muster the ability to plead or squirm. Even your body seems to surrender to his will, going limp and pliant through waves of overstimulation.

“Not yet,” he growls. “One more, and then you can pass out.”

He snakes his free hand down between your bodies. Tears stream down your temples. Helpless, wordless cries spill from your raw throat, high and sharp. Another orgasm builds frighteningly fast, crackling along your shot nerves until you blow like fuse. Blinding ecstasy cracks up your spine, envelopes your mind, and leaves everything dark.

You wake in the bathtub.

It’s a slow, reluctant crawl back to consciousness. The lights have been dimmed to something soft and warm, filtering through a curtain of curling steam. Like this, the bathroom is a dreamlike blur, all hazy lines and twilight shadow. Water laps at your collarbones, not quite scalding, just the way you like. It’s quiet save for the gentle swish of movement along the surface, and slow breathing by your head. Someone is drawing a cloth gently along your heavy body.

A low, gravelly voice coos, “Back with us, kitten?”

You roll your head, blink syrupy slow at the dark specter of Ghost knelt at your side. His sleeves have been drawn up past his elbows. One arm supports your neck and head, protecting you from the cold, harsh side of the tub. The other disappears beneath the surface of the water, working slowly back and forth. A reaper paying dues.

“Maybe,” you hum.

He makes an amused noise. Not quite a chuckle, but close.

“You can sleep again soon,” he replies. “I think the pup has suffered for long enough, though.”

You jolt, the cotton candy haze dissolving into bitter ash.

Poor Johnny, thinking Ghost was doing something awful to you. Hearing your screams and cries and begging, only for Ghost to bring you up some indeterminate time later, unconscious. Guilt threatens to swallow you whole.

“Easy now, precious,” Ghost soothes, a hand between your shoulders as you sit up. “Take it slow. I wasn’t gentle with you.”

That becomes evident as you abandon the weightless solace of the hot water. Aches immediately bloom throughout your body, concentrated around your hips and thighs. Your lower spine is sore, a muscle in your thigh feels strained, and your hole…

“Christ,” you whimper, nearly slipping.

Ghost catches you, scoops you out of the tub altogether, and waits for you to steady your fawn-weak legs on the bathmat. You lean into him heavily, soaking wet patches like blood into his sweatshirt. You’ve paid your way like this – imaginary cuts at Johnny’s expense.

You can’t look at Ghost’s egregiously fond gaze without nausea bubbling in your empty stomach. A yawning pit grows there, hollowing you out. You can’t face the mirror either.

Ghost doesn’t interrupt your flagellation. Buffs you down with a towel in silence, polishing the monument he’s built to his own deprivation. Couldn’t have shaped it without the raw material there though, could he? Statues don’t form without a block of unformed marble, can’t make granite of limestone.

He dresses you in one of his hoodies and fresh underwear before returning you downstairs.

The state you find Johnny in breaks your heart. Tear-streaked, puffy-eyed, lips bitten bloody. His hair is tangled and disarrayed, bruised hands limp in his thighs. Though his head is leaned back against the wall, there’s no ease in his body. His jaw is so tight you worry for his teeth, brows furrowed tight. A crumpled ball of tension and regret.

“Johnny,” you say, voice splintering. The shards rain down, popping the bubble of bleak silence suffocating the den.

His eyes fly open. You dart to him, throwing yourself into his arms before he can process what he’s seeing. Press yourself close and tight, eyes stinging at the exhausted tremble in his body. Johnny’s never been anything but fire and stone to you. Warmth and heat and energy, strength and support even with the cracks.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you warble. “I’m so sorry.”

He nudges you back to scan you with glassy eyes, like he’s seeing a miracle right in front of him.

“You… you’re okay,” he rasps, voice shredded to wisps.

You nod, bowing your head in shame. “He – we…” You can’t find the words to explain, don’t even know how to begin. His hands keep drifting over your arms and hands, eyes flicking from your face to your neck to your bare legs.

Ghost chimes in. “Told the kitten to put on a show or you would suffer.”

You want to wipe away Johnny’s half-dry tears, offer the comfort he’s been deprived of. Cowardice grips your arm, suspends it in midair, whispers poisonous doubts about your welcome.

But Johnny presses his cry-flushed cheek into your palm, shuddering through a dry sob. He leans his weight into you, and despite the fatigue, you stay the pillar you’ve always tried to be for him.

“You both need water,” Ghost rumbles, and turns for the kitchen.

Left alone, Johnny doesn’t emerge from the safety he’s found in the hollow of your throat. You cradle him with all the tenderness you can muster, sifting gentle hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” you whisper finally.

He lets out a sigh and hugs you closer. “Nothin’ to apologize for, Kit. Not mad at ya for protectin’ me. ‘Specially when I put you down there in the first place.”

“I don’t blame you for anything. I wouldn’t have blamed you even if he had…” You shake your head. “Well, regardless, it’s on Ghost for losing his temper.”

He doesn’t respond. You’re not surprised, but your chest squeezes. Johnny’s a proud man, but he’s got a guilt complex a kilometer wide – especially for people he cares deeply for. He’ll be haunted by this for a while.

“I’m just glad you’re alright, luv. Don’t care about a damn other thing.”

You tilt your chin to press kisses to the crown of his head – until he finally peeks out for you to trail more down his ruined face. The kiss starts gentle, warmth and love and reassurance pouring into him from your mouth. Johnny shudders in a breath, cups your jaw. His control slips, mouth parting on desperation and relief, lapping comfort from the edges of your teeth and curl of your tongue.

You only part when Ghost returns, nudging the two of you with his knee. He doesn’t insist on separating you far, though. Just enough to bestow you and Johnny with full glasses of water. You sip in measured doses while Johnny chugs to the bottom in a few noisy mouthfuls.

As he does, you note the awful marks on his hands. Bruised and bloodied knuckles, blisters forming on his palms. Your eyes dart to the wall – sure enough, red stamps like smashed grapes, centered around the wall anchor for the chain. You follow the trail back to his collar, spot the angry skin peaking past. At least there isn’t blood.

Ghost notices too.

“We’ll have to take it off for the night.”

To your surprise, something like reluctance flickers across Johnny’s face. There and gone again, but definitely there. You say nothing; you’d have the same reaction.

Ghost disappears again – this time you hear him rummaging in one of the cabinets. While you and Johnny wait, you exchange chaste, gentle kisses while you burrow into his side.

He returns with a first-aid kit. You’re surprised when offers you a roll of bandages. “A hand for each of us.”

You hum in agreement, get to work dabbing the split skin with antibacterial.

“Can I jus’ ask why, Ghost?”

Ghost doesn’t even glance up. “Why what, pup?”

“Why take it out on Kit? Why not just give me a thrashing and call it a day?”

You frown. Don’t like this line of questioning, or the guilt still staining his words. But Ghost answers without hesitation.

“Because you told me, yeah? Your worst fear is the kitty suffering for you again,” he explains. “No better way to punish you.”

That’s no shock to you; the sentiment is mutual. It’s been damn near written on both your faces since you woke up here, and Ghost isn’t a stupid man. He had you made long before then, you’re sure.

But Johnny’s sudden silence strikes you like a cord out of key. No mutters of annoyance or even snarky comebacks this time. Just a silence that drags your gaze from the careful winding of gauze.

He’s not looking at you, though. He’s staring at Ghost, abject horror graying his skin.

“Riley?”

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #scottish cabin in the woods #scitw #serial killer au #serial killer ghost #mind the warnings

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stayevildarling · 5 months ago

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader - Pink Skies

A/N: I'm not exactly sure how I got this idea but it has been on my mind for ages. I miss Natasha so much 🤍 Title is inspired by the song ,,Pink skies'' by Zach Bryan.

Prompt: Natasha and you have always had a special connection. One day a mission goes severely south and the two of you are separated but somehow still find each other's love and connection in the silence.

tags/warnings: mention of blood, mention of guns, mention of violence, mention of bomb, mention of snowstorm, mention of malnourishment, mention of suicidal thoughts, lots of angst/hurt, comfort at the end

word count: 7k

translation: detka=baby

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay , @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometime , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @stepintomyworld , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

As you stumble into the briefing room, feeling both tired from the last few missions lately and many nights preparing for this mission, in all sorts of ways, you instantly notice the tension in the room. There is a shift, the usual pre mission buzzing replaced by something quiet, something dark and you could swear that you could hear the other's thoughts and the concern about this mission. A dim light filters through the room and you take a seat at the table, the other Avengers filtering in one by one, their faces both serious and filled with something else that you can't quite read yet. The mission was clear and it had been for weeks since Tony had mentioned it for the first time.

An old HYDRA base in a remote location in the middle of the Siberian wilderness. It had been located buried under thick ice and snow for decades but recently discovered through one of Tony's channels. And it was believed to hold critical intel, weapons that could seriously harm the outside world if it got into the wrong hands. It had taken weeks of preparation, new gear, new costumes, hours and hours of meetings, filling out reports and gathering ideas. And as you glance at the team again, you notice how much it had tired them, no mission lately having been this big in preparation alone and you notice there that the ,,something else'' in their faces must be the fact that the mission itself would be even harder.

You sit at the table, your arms crossed, listening intently as Steve outlines the plans once more. Your eyes drift across the table, scanning the others, when they reach hers. They linger on Natasha for a moment longer, too long. She is focused, her eyes sharp and calculating but you notice the subtle tension in her jaw and you knew it meant she was worried. Natasha and you had been working side by side for years now ever since Yelena dragged you out of the Red Room and into the Avengers compound, knowing your talents are too great to be wasted by a normal life. They had taken you in, Natasha under her wing and it didn't take long before you joined missions and the compound became your home, the team your family.

She gives you a small nod as she notices your lingering eyes, pulling you out of your thoughts, a silent reassurance that everything would be okay. Her expression softens for a moment before she focuses on the briefing again. And despite you needing to do the same really, your eyes linger for a moment longer, the familiarity in her green eyes, the sense of home. Now, Natasha had been your home for years, pretty closed off when she first met you but quickly noticing how alike you are, how you share the same pain, the same scars from your past. She took you under her wing, teaching you how to become an Avenger by training with you and how to become part of the Team by taking you to Pizza and Game nights and keeping you company for Tony's ridiculous parties. And the two of you had grown closer, from weekly training sessions to weekly movie nights and the two of you bickering which action film to watch. From only one of you joining the team on missions, to you both being essential for the team in different ways. From shy glances with tight jaws to lingering glances in the meeting room, fingers interloping on a dark night or shoulders touching while sitting and watching the sunset on the rooftop.

,,and that's when you come in'' Steve explains, bringing you back into reality and stopping your daydreaming about a certain redhead. ,,We need to move fast, in and out before anyone knows we are there. Y/N you will be leading the infiltration team. Natasha you will provide overwatch. The rest of us will secure the perimeter and handle extraction'' he explains, glancing around the table.

You nod, absorbing the same details you had been listening to carefully for the past few months. There isn't much time to think about anything other than the mission, but as the team begins to get ready, you feel Natasha's presence beside you. As your eyes meet hers, you take in her uniform again, her long red hair and the braids and the familiar safe green eyes locking with your own, almost completing each other.

,,Be careful out there'' she says quietly, her voice low enough that only you can hear her. Her Russian accent slips slightly and you know her well enough by now to know, there is something unsaid in her voice and behind her green orbs. ,,You too'' you reply with a smile, your tone matching her softness. ,,I'll see you when this is over'' you announce. She looks at you with something intense in her gaze, as if she wants to say more but then she just nods and you both turn to go your separate ways and into this mission.

The Quinjet hums lowly through the sky a little while later, your team already on the way, the other teams on your intercoms. You are nervous, beyond nervous as this really wasn't one of your usual missions. So far you had been fighting off the bad guys, mostly missions that would take at most a few days, some undercover ones taking longer but this was something else. With Tony's technology it doesn't take nearly as long as it should and after dozing off for a little while, you hear some ruffling and the announcement over intercoms that you are fast approaching.

Now neither of you had expected the storm and weather to hit as hard as it did. Of course, Tony had brought on some scientist and weather experts to prepare you for the conditions, making sure your gear and costumes as well as boots are made for this. Each of you had a tracker that was nearly indestructible as well as a backpack with essentials if the weather would hit as expected. But the storm was much faster and harder than anyone could have anticipated. What was supposed to be a quick in and out operation, turns into chaos within minutes. The blizzard almost swallows everything, including nearly the Quinjet and before you know it your communication lines are down and your team is getting separated.

You push forward, despite the low visibility and the freezing cold on your skin, determined to complete this mission. You almost reach the target location, despite not having a map or a way to communicate, remembering the maps from all the meetings and the large bridge you are currently trying to cross when an explosion suddenly rocks the ground beneath your feet. A landmine must have been hidden underneath the snow, the blast sending you tumbling down a ravine. The fall feels endless and the only thing you can see as you drop is darkness and snow before you fall to the floor, the snow at the bottom of wherever you are shielding you from any serious back injuries.

For a moment you simply lay there in the darkness, struggling to comprehend what just happened as the pain ripples through your body, your ears buzzing and your vision blurring from the impact. Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as you try and assess the situation, having been in predicaments plenty of times as an Avenger and long before in the Red Room. Your leg is bleeding, a deep gash from the fall that the snow hadn't prevented. A part of you knows how hopeless this truly is, your comms are shattered as well as both of your trackers and your phone certainly would have broken in the backpack.

After a moment you practically jump up, shaking some of the snow off, for now ignoring the pain in your body as you try and reach for your phone but just as you expected it shattered from either the blast or fall. You sigh as you reach for one of your torches, and you find yourself inside a tunnel, the drop too far to attempt to climb back up and so you begin walking, having tended to the wound with one of the first aid kits in your backpack for now. After hours and hours of walking, you realise it's the tunnel connected to the HYDRA base but you couldn't access it as you had none of the equipment to get inside the huge metal door. You practically slide down the door, the only light source your torch as you sit there, hoping the team that was supposed to infiltrate this part and get inside to eventually show up and take you with them.

But as the hours pass, eventually two days of staying in the same location, you know it's hopeless and that no one will show up. You decide to leave a note, having brought a notebook and pen on your mission for whatever reason you can't really remember now, telling them that you are alive and would try to find your way back to them, leaving it by the large metal door. The way out of the tunnel is harder than anything you had ever done before, endless walking, endless different ways to turn, getting lost, eventually feeling like you would never get out of there but finally after more hours of walking, you manage to make it to the end, breaking a metal bar before you slip past it and finally seeing the sky again. However, to your disappointment you are in the middle of nowhere, no way of knowing where the team had begun this mission, where you had landed initially.

All you can see is endless white, some trees and mountains to either side but no sign of any civilisation let alone any Avengers anywhere. And that's the first time you break down, knowing how truly screwed you are and that the likelihood of finding you was incredibly low at this point. The cold seems to seep into your skin and bones as you begin walking towards the trees and into the mountains, knowing you couldn't stay in the endless white forever and knowing your best chance at survival would be to do this the old fashioned way. As soon as you reach the forests, still covered in snow but much less cold and wet, you collapse onto the floor, taking the backpack off yet again and laying out your only belonging for the foreseeable future.

Inside you find, the torch and multiple batteries, your first aid kit, the notebook and pen, some water inside a large bottle, multiple protein bars and electrolyte packets as well as a foldable emergency blanket, a knife and obviously your weapons. A part of you is glad Tony decided to go this overboard as many of the Avengers had protested on carrying all of this equipment, claiming they don't need it, but you couldn't be more grateful to the old man right now insisting on you all carrying it, knowing you needed this more than ever if you want to survive. You try and remember the maps and what they said about the nearest city incase of an emergency landing on the way there or back but you remember them saying it was miles away, hence the multiple teams and Quinjets especially equipped for this type of mission.

Natasha lingers on your mind, the way her hair looked so beautiful the last time you saw her, the smile on her face and the worry. You wonder what she is thinking, if she is looking for you, if they are even back yet and know this mission failed. You know she must have watched the fall with her team and you pray that they don't assume you are dead and would look for you because you know this was nearly impossible. With the rest of the day, you decide to use one of your old Red Room methods to tell the time, using your instincts and mostly the sky to guide you, knowing if you lost track of time eventually this would catch up with you and be a great danger. And so you scramble for any dry wood that you can find, using your skills to make a fire in order to finally warm up and find some shelter, knowing the chance of wild animals was low with this weather but knowing it wasn't impossible. With the knife in your hands, you close your eyes but sleep remains a stranger at first and so you simply stare at the sky, turning different shades as the night carries on and somehow your thoughts only linger on Natasha and wanting to get back to her.

The next day, you decide to carry on walking, trying to find water and moving on. You aren't sure what is driving you forward, whether it was your will to survive, wanting to get back home to your family and team, knowing your chances of surviving this are pretty low. But you carry on, through the mountains, through the forests filled with snow, the snowstorms following you wherever you go as you keep your feet moving, despite every single bone in your body hurting and every single thought in your head telling you to just lean against one of the trees and await your faith. For the days to follow you keep pushing, especially through the night, knowing it was much safer for you to find sleep and rest during the day. And you had managed well, surviving of water and the occasional fish you managed to find on your way through the mountains and the occasional frozen pond or lake that you managed to break through with your knifes, knowing you needed the stuff in your backpack for tougher times to come.

Eventually after days of walking, trying to push the pain and the cold aside, you find shelter in a small cave, hidden from the wind and storms. It wasn't much but enough to get you rested, knowing you needed a good nights sleep to restore your energy. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to converse heat and look out at the storm outside. The sky had turned a deep pink as the sun dipped below the horizon, and for a moment, the cold stops as you think about Natasha again, wondering if she was maybe looking at the same sky, thinking about you. A part of you wishes you would have told her, told her how your heart beats for her, how you only managed to heal the scars of your past with her by your side, how she made every ugly thought about yourself beautiful, how she healed the most broken parts of your soul and how she had lifted you up from the most darkest of times. You wish you would have told her about how much your hands and knees shake whenever you are near her, at the beginning certainly from nerves but eventually from butterflies as they would erupt in your stomach whenever you are near her.

Neither you or Natasha had been the cheesy type, the ones with big love confessions or maybe even the type for a relationship, knowing you had both dedicated your life to a greater goal. But as the sky turns dark and the cold returns, you wish you would have told her, knowing it would have never changed your fate but you wish she would have known, known that there was someone out there who loves her deeply, more than the air in their lungs, more than the blood in their body keeping their heart pumping. You would give your life for Natasha at any given moment and you hate yourself for the possibility of her never knowing how you feel, never knowing whether she may feel the same, whether the glances truly meant something, the shoulders brushing against each other, the pinky promises or the smile she had reserved for you. Despite the heartache, the thoughts of Natasha bring you comfort and you eventually manage to find sleep again, your body finally getting the rest you needed.

The next morning, the storm had mostly eased and as you walk out of the cave, backpack on your back, you know this is your chance to finally get some miles in, knowing if you walk through the large fields of nothing, skipping the mountains and hills that you may actually be able to get anywhere, knowing the possibility of getting caught in the storm was there but with no way of contacting anyone and slowly loosing your sense of time, you push forward, the thought of Natasha still lingering on your mind.

Meanwhile, Natasha storms into her room, banging the door shut on her way in. Another day of trying to find you, another day of returning to the scene where everything went wrong. Another day of searching for clues, any sign of you being alive. It had been weeks since the mission went south, weeks since you had been gone. She had replayed the moment in her mind a thousand times, watching you fall, searching for something she missed, any clue that could lead her back to you. But the snow and ice of Siberia had swallowed you and they never even managed to find the entrance to the HYDRA base where you had left your note, leaving nothing behind but silence.

She stares out the window at the compound grounds, her hands clenched into fists. The others had tried to convince her to stop this, especially Clint, knowing how much this was draining her and urging her to take a break. Telling her over and over again to let the search teams handle it but she couldn't, not with the thought of you out there, alone as it kept her awake at night. Natasha hadn't cried once since the day you vanished. She couldn't afford to, not when every ounce of her energy had to go into finding you and getting you back. But the weight of it all, the feeling like it was her fault, how she should have been with you, told you the words that lingered on her mind before you two said goodbye, suffocated her. She hadn't told anyone how much it hurt, how much she was blaming herself, how she could still hear your voice, feel your touches and how much she missed them, usually you being the one the redhead would confide in.

Natasha blinks away some tears as she looks over a small crumpled piece of paper, a note that you scribbled down during a debrief months ago, a joke about how ,,we always make it back''. It was stupid really, a throwaway comment but she holds onto it like a lifeline, hoping your words are true, hoping one day she was going to train with you again, make silly pinky promises to you and laugh with you until her belly would hurt. The ink had long faded where she had unfolded and refolded it a hundred times but the words still linger, as she traces them with her fingertips, each night before attempting to get some sleep but failing most of the nights.

,,Y/N'' she whispers as she continues staring out the window ,,Where are you?''. She doesn't expect an answer. She had been asking the same question for weeks and the silence was always the same. But in her heart she knows she will find you one day. You are out there and she knows it. She just has to keep looking.

The remainder of the day she spends looking over mission reports, watching the footage they had over and over despite the low visibility due to the storm but she couldn't stop, not yet. ,,Tasha, you gotta stop'' Clint says as he watches her in the common room, working effortlessly without taking any breaks. ,,I won't stop'' she mutters, shooting him a glance and he lets it go, knowing how much this means to her. The Black Widow carries on, spending every single day in finding you, talking to the team who got separated from you, working with Tony and the others. The lonely evenings, she would spend on the rooftop, your usual spot, watching the pink skies and thinking of you, praying for your safety.

The weeks had slowly turned into months and you are at the end of your strength. Every step feels like it could be your last, another snowstorm after another, your body numb to the cold at this point. Despite finding the occasional shelter here and there, often finding water due to the unlimited snow and the occasional scrap of something your body was giving up. You had no strength to keep going, to fight through mountains of snow and the occasional wild animal. You are tired and the last cave you hadn't left in days, your supply of food from the backpack long gone, as well as anything really, the batteries having run out, the pages from your notebook filled with your writing and sketches and so the only thing you had was your water bottle and yourself, the thoughts of giving up and that no one would ever find you.

The nights were the hardest, when the temperature dropped and the darkness would close in around you. But even in your exhaustion, you managed to keep your ritual, looking at the pink skies and thinking of Natasha. It had become your safety, a reminder that Natasha was waiting. Even if you didn't know for sure she was, it was the only lingering hope that you could cling on. Now, you had been so exhausted that you never noticed the snow beginning to thin lately, patches of bare earth visible between the drifts, a sign that you may finally be close to reaching the edge of wilderness. Despite your stomach hurting from starvation, your mouth dry from the lack of water, every single bone in your body hurting from the cold and the walking. But the real battle was your mind, the lingering thoughts of whether you should give up, knowing how pointless this truly was and that despite it all, they never found you, knowing how highly trained and equipped the avengers are and you couldn't shake the thought that they had abandoned you, never found you.

You knew how to make this painless, a quick sudden death within an instant, barely any pain, having learned this in your past also. And you considered it tonight, whether to finally give up and to let go. Using the back of the notebook to write a final note incase anyone would ever stumble upon this cave, despite the unlikelihood of that scenario. Tonight had tested you in ways you hadn't been tested before, not in the years of the Red Room, the killing and the abuse you had endured for years. Interrogations when your cover was blown when they beat you over and over, breaking your fingers or leaving many emotional scars. All your head keeps telling you is that you couldn't make it home, that there was no one waiting at home, how they had given up on you. Your family had given up on you. You take a shaky breath after finishing your writing, before laying down, using the backpack as a pillow, the knife in your palm before looking up.

And until now you hadn't seen it, the small hole above you, enough to give you a glimpse of the sky and to your surprise it was pink again. Now the sky hadn't been pink in a while, causing your usual bright thoughts of Natasha to vanish, replaced by darker ones, hopeless ones. But right now she's back, causing you to drop the knife as you close your eyes and think of her. You can see her in your mind, her red hair flowing freely, her smile, that specific one she had reserved for you, the smirk when you would make fun of one of the guys after a mission or a debriefing. Her usual tough hands, often rolled into fists whenever she would take someone out or was hitting the punching bag in the gym hard, this time holding your own in your daydreams, much softer and less rough. You can almost feel her and maybe it's the fact you hadn't really had a lot of water in the past few days or the lack of food but right now she is here in the cave with you, smiling at you as she lays beside you, using her soft hands to move some strands of hair from your features and wipe your tears.

Eventually the exhaustion creeps in, the knife remaining beside you, Natasha having replaced the dark thoughts as sleep washes over you. And you would never know but Natasha was staring at the same sky, once again sitting on your spot on the rooftop, hoping you are out there, hoping she was going to get to see you again. The Black Widow had struggled lately, losing her balance a little bit as she would fight Tony almost every day, blaming him for this mission, blaming Steve for the way he planned the mission, blaming your team for letting you go down the bridge alone but mostly blaming herself. She had went back to the mission site multiple times, trying to find anything but the HYDRA base was buried under the snow now, the storms that had passed burying the entrance and your note from the beginning. She hates herself for letting you go alone, for watching from above rather than being beside you. She should have pushed harder not to have you in the dangers of this mission and most of all she regrets never having told you. Told you that you are the one she can relate to due to your shared past, how she suffered the same nightmares, the same trauma and thoughts. How you are her safe haven, how she trusts you and knows you have her back.

How Natasha had been in love with you from the first moment she saw you walk inside the compound with Yelena. How she pushed the thoughts away for months until she couldn't keep her distance. How she accepted being friends as she assumed it was best but how it had killed her every second of every day and especially now. She wishes she never wasted any of it. She wishes she would have held you when watching movies together, she wishes she would have kissed you as you sat beside each other on the rooftop and most of all she wishes she would have told you before you left on this mission. How she has no idea whether you love her, the others, especially Yelena having of course mentioned it and teased the redhead about it but how she needed you to know, even if you didn't love her back.

The next morning as you wake up, your breath instantly hitches, remembering the night before and how close you had been to giving up. You pack your bags before stepping out of the cave and as soon as you do, you notice it immediately. The change of scenery, how the snow was slightly lighter, some green sticking out from underneath and then you see it, far in the distance, having to squint your eyes in order to make sure it's real. Movement in the distance. Tears pour down your cheeks as you begin running, knowing you needed to save your strength but not caring. Any possibility of movement was good and you needed to get there, knowing with how low you are running on everything, this was maybe your last chance. It takes you all day, the sky filled with darkness and stars but eventually you find the lights, a small town approaching and again you begin running after seeing the first sign of civilisation in months. You basically collapse into the village before a family approaches you, the woman instantly offering you water and food.

They offered you a phone and shelter but you didn't want to risk a single thing, knowing how these remote areas could be filled with soldiers and you aren't educated enough on what kind and so you decide to let the man drive you into the nearest city the next day. That night as you lay awake in the small barn they offered you for shelter, you look at the sky, it too late to be pink but you think of Natasha and seeing her again, this time falling asleep with a smile on your face.

The journey home had taken you longer than you could have imagined, they drove you to the nearest city before you had to take a boat in order to get to the nearest airport. Now, being an Avenger came with it's perks, not needing a passport handy necessarily and being able to use secure connections. You remembered an old friend living a couple of countries away and so you gave him a call and he agreed to send one of his jets to fly you back home. And after some more hours of endless travelling, this time with enough food, water and warmth, you finally make it home. You know you should call, let them know but a part of you simply wants to get back, fall into Natasha's arms and finally tell her about all the things you had experienced on this journey and how you only managed to come home due to her and the pink skies.

It seems like almost nothing has changed when you walk into the compound, the facial recognition still having your data saved. With ease, you walk past the empty common room, the empty gym and the briefing room, trying to find a sign of someone. Now due to your exhaustion you hadn't realised it was the middle of the night and when that thought registers you sigh, wondering where she may be. ,,JARVIS?'' you call out quietly as you make it into an elevator ,,Yes Ms Y/N?'' he asks and you ask him the question that lingers on your mind. ,,Miss Romanoff is currently on the rooftop'' he explains and your eyebrows furrow for a moment before you make your way up there, wondering what she is doing up there. It only takes a few more stairs before you find the open door and the angel you had been thinking about sitting at the edge, staring into the distance, her hair falling freely, just the way you had remembered it.

,,Natasha?'' you call out but she remains quiet and at first she ignores it as your voice had lingered on her mind for so long, often tricking her as you would appear beside her while training or with the others but she had to learn it wasn't you and simply her thoughts and aching heart. ,,Tasha?'' you try again and this time her head instantly snaps, noticing how it sounded too real to be her imagination. Her face turns from serious to shocked in an instant and she jumps to her feet quickly before she stands there, staring at you in disbelief, the same clothes from that day, despite them being ripped, the same backpack, your same beautiful face despite the bruises and cuts. The same beautiful you, despite how you look thinner, tired and pale.

,,Y/N?'' it's barely above a whisper, her voice breaking as she takes some steps towards you. You notice her hesitation and how she seems scared that this isn't real, that if she touched you you may disappear again. ,,Are you really here?'' she whispers and you look up at her, the exhaustion stretched into every line of your face, but your eyes are the same, the same sparkle. ,,Natasha'' you repeat, unable to form any words at this point.

The moment stretches for a while but before you know it, she runs up to you and you find yourself in her arms as she squeezes you tight and you remain like that as you finally collapse into her arms, having made it home. You cling to her, scared if you let go you may find this a dream and that you are still in one of those caves, that you would wake up and find the endless whites again. Sobs wreck through your body, despite you not wanting her to see any of this but you couldn't hold back.

,,I thought.. I thought we lost you'' she whispers into your hair, her voice shaking with the weight of everything unsaid. ,,I thought I'd never see you again'' she admits, her own tears lingering in her green eyes.

,,What happened?'' she asks as she pulls back, wiping your tears with her thumb. ,,A landmine I think'' you try and collect yourself again before she tilts her head as she listens to you intently. ,,Where have you been?'' she asks confused before you fill her in, on the endless white, the storms, the caves, the town after months, and using one of your contacts to get back. Her jaw drops as your words register before her eyebrows furrow. ,,You just got back?'' she asks a bit dumbfounded before you nod. ,,So you haven't seen anyone? no one knows? we need to get you to med bay'' she urges and you simply nod, too tired to argue with her and knowing you really should have done those things before.

Natasha reaches for your hand as she walks you into the elevator and into med bay, finding one of the night doctors and leaving you in their hands for a moment before waking the others. By the time they return you are in one of the beds, on fluids and pain medication as they had treated you to your injuries. Tony, Natasha, Steve, Bucky and the others stand around your bed, seeing you soundly asleep from both the exhaustion and medication as they stare at each other in disbelief. ,,She made it back'' Steve shakes his head in surprise, not able to imagine what you must have been through these past few months.

,,How is she Doc?'' Tony asks as he looks at you in concern. ,,There are signs of severe malnourishment, dehydration and a leg injury'' he begins speaking. ,,We have given her fluids, pain medications and something to get her to rest'' he explains and Natasha anxiously begins biting her lip at hearing his words. ,,She should make a full recovery but needs rest for now'' he acknowledges and the others sigh in relief. They stay with you for hours before they leave it to Natasha, knowing she was the one truly wanting to be by your side. The doctor had given her your backpack and she found the notebook inside, unsure what to do with it just yet.

She knows the first thing they would do in the morning is need to follow up on this mission and she assumes being able to find some intel and despite the doubts, Natasha begins reading. She finds your pages about how the mission had gone south, how you had walked through the roughest blizzards, how you hadn't eaten in days, before she reads her name for the first time. She reads all the pages until her eyes burn, the confessions how you had found another pink sky and how it reminded her of you and by the last page she is in tears. Seeing how you are so close to giving up and the little line you had written for her in case she ever finds you. Her head falls into her hands as she begins sobbing, tears of relief and sadness rolling down her cheeks as she couldn't be happier to have you back but couldn't be more heartbroken for what you had endured, sincerly hoping it would have been her instead.

The redhead reads over your lines over and over again, unable to believe what you had endured and knowing the strength it truly took to walk through the hell that you had walked through. She reads over the lines of the pink sky and how it reminded you of her and her heart aches and beats faster at the same time, knowing she had been the reason you carried on and found your way home. Natasha had never known what it truly felt like to be loved wholeheartedly but reading every single one of your thoughts, the raw truth behind them makes her emotional in a way that she had never been before. The redhead remains by your side, not thinking about leaving for a second, not caring remotely about the meetings, the mission or any of it, all she wants is to be near you.

It takes a good day until you are out of it, the meds wearing off slowly and she remains right there, holding your hand when you wake up shaking and gasping for breath as the nightmares of the cold wreck through your body. She gently shushes you back to sleep as she lays beside you, figuring the blankets aren't warm enough and wanting to keep you close, still worried if she so much as blinked you may disappear again. By the time you finally wake up fully, you blink a few times, the reality of having found your way home settling in fully. Natasha lays beside you as you are wrapped in her arms, smiling softly at you as your eyes meet her green ones.

,,Hey there'' she softly whispers, her eyes filled with relief and something you can't quite read. ,,How you feeling?'' she asks and you nod in contempt, not fully ready yet to talk as the moment is too precious. The two of you stay like this for a while, soaking in each other's warms before the sunrise greets you and warms your cheek. ,,You hungry?'' Natasha asks, figuring you would want a whole buffet at this point. ,,Yeah'' you whisper softly and she offers a hand to you before guiding you outside of med bay, having cleared it with the doctors as you didn't need any further treatment for now.

,,Where are we going?'' you ask a little confused, figuring she may just take you into the common room and the kitchen. ,,Let's get you cleaned up hm?'' she suggests and you nod as you realise you are outside of your room, almost having forgotten the way there. As soon as you step inside you notice how it had been kept clean, but not by any staff. There is something more personal about it, the windows open for fresh air, the vase that you would always fill with your favourite flowers filled with some fresh ones and as you glance at Natasha standing behind you, you quickly connect the dots. ,,How about you get a shower and I'll make you some food'' she suggests and you nod, before disappearing into the bathroom for a while.

You had briefly showered when making it back to civilisation but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of a shower in your own bathroom, the warmth healing your skin and a fresh set of your own clothes. When you return a while later, Natasha is sitting by the small kitchen island, some coffee, orange juice and breakfast waiting for you and you smile, wishing this was your reality, wishing this could be the scene in front of you every morning. The two of you sit in silence as you begin eating, enjoying each other's company but the air is thick with unspoken truths and things on each other's mind.

,,You know..'' she begins as she glances at the cup of coffee in her hands. ,,You really could have called'' she sighs but a smile plastered on her face. ,,I know I should have, I'm sorry'' you apologise, seeing the concern written across her features. Silence fills the room again and before either of you can speak, you are interrupted by a knock on your door, Bucky requesting you both in the meeting room. The two of you sigh, having enjoyed the moment up until now before joining the others. The reunion is filled with emotions as you reunite with some of the others and Natasha watches silently from the other end of the room, having dreamed about these moments for so long.

,,You were right to never give up'' Clint whispers as he lingers beside her. She glances at him, giving him a brief smile before he begins speaking again. ,,Finally gonna tell her?'' he asks but before she can reply, Tony requests everyone by the large meeting table, ready to talk the details through and just exactly how this mission went south. You tell them about it all, the entrance to the HYDRA base you had found but that you expect it to be covered by the blizzard now and unable to get to, you tell them about the landmine and what had happened, talking through every single detail of your reality from the past few months. Steve and Tony are quick to plan some further steps, deciding whether to abandon the mission or try to find the base one more time and you find yourself stealing away, not wanting any part of this mission anymore and the memories haunting your mind.

Natasha watches you leave, figuring you need some quiet, wanting to give you the space instead of hovering by your side all day but when you fail to show up for dinner, she tries finding you and succeeds immediately as she finds you on the all too familiar rooftop, watching over the sky. ,,Hi there'' she greets you softly as she takes a seat beside you. ,,Hi'' you whisper, too caught up in the moment to find any more words. The two of you remain silent and there is something bittersweet about this moment, watching the pink sky together, this time side by side rather than from afar. ,,Y/N'' Natasha begins and you find your eyes meeting her own, locking almost instantly. ,,I-'' she begins but pauses, unsure how to say everything that is lingering on her mind. ,,I need to tell you something'' you interrupt her, the past few months having given you a new courage that you never seemed to have found before.

,,Every day while I was out there.. I..'' you begin but pause yourself, finding it hard to repeat the painful truth. ,,I know detka'' she interrupts you, causing your breath to hitch. ,,I have read them'' she admits, avoiding your gaze. ,,I don't know if you feel the same and I would never want to ruin what we have but I want you to know that I came home because of you'' you admit and this time her gaze snaps right back to you, unable to believe the words coming out of your mouth and that there is still a doubt within you that this wasn't mutual. ,,And if- this is silly then..'' you begin rambling, feeling unsure by her silence but before you can say another single word her lips suddenly crash onto your own, taking you by surprise, your eyes widening at first before they close, fully embracing the kiss, feeling every single emotion, every single flashback. ,,I love you detka'' she whispers after the two of you pull away and your eyes remain on her, before they find the pink sky again, your shoulders now leaning against each other before your head rests on hers. ,,I love you Nat'' you whisper.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #scarlett johansson #natasha romanoff x y/n #black widow x y/n #scarlett johansson x reader #marvel #mcu

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ghostsstolemymoxie · 4 months ago

Note

A request here for smut! enemies to lovers hot hate sex on a mission then people over the intercom back at the mansion here oops 🤭

AHHH OK I love this ideaaaa, just hoping I did it justice <3

【You're so gorgeous - then you start talkin'!】

Logan x F! Reader - Enemies to lovers: Hatefuck edition Divider credit @cafekitsune Tags: No use of Y/n, explicit content (18+, MDNI), unprotected p in v (be smarter than Logan and reader folks), rough sex, spitting, unintentional voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism Please don't click read more unless you're over 18 and willing to see 18+ content and the above tagged content. WC: 3k words

"He's the most arrogant, boorish, misogynistic, vile bastard I have ever met in my life!" You hissed down the comms, trying very hard to hide the scowl etched into your features. "Yes, but he's also your partner on this mission," Ororo replied, calmly, her voice crackling somewhat as it travelled into your ear through the wireless bud for your communications.

All around you, all you could hear was chatter, laughter and bawdy noises.

Serves you right, really. After all, you'd been so desperate to get back into the swing of things and get onto the missions since your injury, you had begged Charles to assign you the next mission, not even caring what it was.

Lo and behold, it leads to you and Logan being sent out on an intel-gathering mission at a casino just by the Canadian border. All you needed to do was listen out for some plan to do with Sentinels being built. Charles had been stingy with the details, though you weren't quite sure why. You supposed he'd given the brief more to Logan - the experienced X-man.

As though summoned by your distasteful thoughts, Logan soon joined you in the casino, already holding a glass in his hand. Whiskey, no doubt, with plenty of ice. He stepped up alongside you, glancing you up and down and taking in your black-tie attire with a smirk on his face. "You scrub up nice. Makes sense. You're only here as arm candy." He grumbled, taking a sip of his whiskey. In truth, it was a wonder that his muscles didn't burst free from the white suit he was wearing, but this was no time for gawking at the wonderful body attached to this awful man. "Has anyone ever told you that you're the worst person they've ever met?" You mock, even as you follow him to one of the tables. "Has anyone told you that you've got a smart mouth? That's not an attractive quality in a lady, y'know." Logan's retort was fast and icy, barbed in a way that only Logan's tone could be.

"Both of you, you need to focus on gathering intel, not on bickering." It was Scott's turn this time, shrill down the comms as he made sure that both of you heard. From the scowl on Logan's face, he heard perfectly.

A friend of Bolivar Trask was on the roulette table tonight - and apparently, he got loose lips after enough scotch. So, Logan took his seat at the same table, keeping his head down and focusing on looking inconspicuous, whilst you lingered at his side, playing the part of the pretty girlfriend attending alongside her man. Logan chugged the rest of his whiskey, holding out the glass to you. "Get me another one, won't you sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. God, that was the worst word he could use for you. It only made you angry. He had that stupid smirk on his face, too, that said he only knew how mad it made you. Despite his mockery though, you kept your composure, putting a smile on your pretty, painted lips. "Sure thing, hun." You said, leaning in, feigning a kiss on his cheek as you whispered: "Call me sweetheart again, and I'll cut your dick off."

He replied only with a scoff, as you headed to the bar, a scowl plastered on your face. The only way you knew it was because you glimpsed it in the mirror whilst waiting to be served. Once seen, it was schooled quickly, though that didn't stop a passerby from noticing.

Whilst you waited for the bartender, idly listening over your comms to hear whatever was being said at the roulette table, you barely noticed his presence, until he sided up right alongside you. He was a handsome guy, though regrettably not as handsome as your begrudging date for the evening, who remained at the table, unaware.

"Now, what could possibly make such a pretty face look so grumpy?" He asked, cooing the words so condescendingly. "I'm not grumpy." You reply, sourly, before forgetting that whilst you can always hear on comms, they can always hear you. A creak across the room sounds as Logan turns to look at you, and a look of something spreads across his face at the sight of the younger man quite obviously coming onto you. You didn't know what that something was, but it lit a strange, desperate spark in your stomach for just a brief moment.

Still, you needed to deal with the interloper first, so you turned back to him. "I'm kind of in a rush. I'm just here to get my partner a drink." "Partner, huh?" He chuckled. "I get it. Long-term relationship but no ring… has he convinced you that being partners is just as good as being married?"

He had clearly gotten the wrong end of the stick, though it was probably more your fault for saying partner rather than boyfriend. "It's not like that." You reply, trying to think of the best phrasing to get him to just leave you alone. "Then what's it like, gorgeous?"

The moron was grinning, missing the point as if he was a professional. All you could do was just roll your eyes and try to catch the bartender's attention. Sooner rather than later.

As you turned to speak to the bartender, the guy spoke up again, this time laying a hand on your arm as he did so. "Come on, Honey, you can tell me. I've been told I'm a wonderful listener. I've had my shoulders wet once or twice. I've got something else I'd love for you to get wet too."

The crudeness wasn't lost on you, and the thought of doing anything with this guy made your nose crinkle in disgust. But before you could reply with anything, you felt the guy's grip get snatched off of you as another, larger hand slid its way around your waist.

"Somethin' I can help you with, bub?" Logan's voice rumbled from behind you, and it clearly rattled the other guy to be challenged by him. After all, Logan was 300 lbs of muscle and adamantium and had the mug of a mean bastard to go with it. Even if that mean bastard was ruggedly handsome and carved from the finest Canadian oak.

You could have defended yourself. You knew this easily, and you were certain Logan did too, though the intensity of his gaze whilst he stared down the other guy forced a needy sensation in your core, betraying any lingering sense of feminism you had.

"No, just talking to the lady here." The guy replied, as politely as he could muster up, despite the fact he was no doubt shitting his pants. "Botherin' her, more like." Logan scoffed. "That cologne of yours is vile, by the way. You should probably try and wear something that doesn't smell like shit next time you try and flirt with a lady. Especially one who's spoken for."

The guy stammered, tripping over himself in trying to respond, his eyes running from you, then back to Logan, lips flapping comically but with no sound coming out.

Logan took this opportunity to tug you away from the bar instead. "C'mon, Sweetheart. Let's go have a talk." He snarled. "Logan, what are you doing? You need to focus on the meeting! Now is not the time for it!" Scott's voice down the communicator was cut off when Logan tore his out of his ear and yours as well (though he was uncharacteristically gentle as he plucked it from your ear).

He stuffed them both in his pocket, dragging you past the roulette table and the blackjack and into the men's bathroom. A single cubicle, with a lock on it that he immediately clicked shut the second that you were both in.

"What the Hell are you thinking?" You snap up at him, tearing your arm from his grip. Logan didn't reply instantly. His nostrils were flared, his beautiful mouth twisted in a vicious sneer and his whole body vibrating with the kind of energy that was more animal than human. His arms were tense, you could see the seams of his jacket nearly fraying at the effort, whilst those Hazel eyes of his burned into yours.

"I'm thinkin' about how furious I am." He snarled in reply, after a moment to think. "I'm thinkin' about how idiotic you are for even strikin' up a conversation with that guy in the damn first place. I'm thinkin'…" One tantalising step forward, and all of a sudden you were braced against the tiled wall. Thankfully the casino was clean, or at least looked it. Logan loomed over you, his breath heavy and stuttering, and for a moment you wondered if he had finally snapped and was going to drive those claws of his into your chest and finally be done with it. "I'm thinkin'… Dammit, that dress is good on you."

You blink, a few times as you look up at him, trying to confirm that you'd heard him correctly, that his eyes truly were raking down your body like that and not that you'd just dreamed it.

"Logan-" "Shut up." He snapped, cutting you off. "Just… shut up. Stop talking. God, you're so gorgeous and then you start talkin'!"

Despite your indignation, you didn't get a chance to reply. In moments he had gripped at your ass, squeezing full handfuls and lifting you from the ground, only to move you, seating you along the counter where the sink was, his eyes burning into yours all the while. He dropped you onto the counter with a thud, and in moments he was ruching up the fabric of your dress, the fabric slipping upwards from your ankles up to your mid-thigh. Hastily, you tried to tug it back down but he was far stronger, and it was a better option to have the dress lifted than torn, especially considering you'd both need to head back out to the floor. Now that there was a little give, he burrowed his strong thigh between your own, until his body was firmly planted between your knees.

"God, what am I doing?" He groaned, hanging his head, his hands planted on either side of your hips, trapping you in place. "You don't want this. You hate me as much as I can't stand you. But… I can't take this anymore. The… the tension, the burning, the need. The ache." His voice trembled as he spoke, his shoulders jerking with his difficult breaths.

As if all at once, you seemed to realise his intention here. He wanted you. Needed you. In a way almost primal and carnal, that seemed completely separate to the mission, or their usual distaste of one another.

A searing hot coil tightened in your gut, pulsating with desperation you didn't know you had in you. It had been a while, that much was for certain. 6 months? A year? Longer? Too long, by all measures. Too long since you'd shared your body with someone so vulnerably, so intimately.

And God, how you longed to share it with Logan.

"Shove me away." He demanded. "Shove me away. Smack me. Tell me I'm a brute and a bastard and you don't wanna fuck me. Do it. Because if you don't, I'm not stopping, mission be damned."

Instead, disobedient to his pleading, you slid your hands up his chest, feeling every ridge and valley even through his tuxedo. There were no words shared, no refusals or acceptances. Only a gentle touch between the fiercest of enemies.

His eyes flared, bright and incensed, and in moments he had shrugged off his jacket, tossing it haphazardly backwards, not caring where it landed, before dropping to his knees.

His hands planted themselves defiantly on your inner thighs, holding them open as he brought his face towards your core, whilst your needy fingers kept your skirt bunched up and out of his way. Logan didn't even bother to pull your panties aside, at first. He pressed chaste kisses at first to the seam of your womanhood, feeling how it slicked at his attention, enjoying the way you reacted to his attention, the way the scent of your desire seemed to permeate the air around him from every angle. He hummed into his kisses as well, the vibration only making that coil in your gut tighter. At the attempts to close your thighs, he only snarled, his grip getting firmer as he held them apart, shooting a glare up at you as if to warn you that if you didn't stop, he wouldn't keep going.

You relaxed your thighs, and he quickly crooked a finger around the gusset of your panties, tugging them to the side, taking in the sight of you with a cocked, eager eyebrow.

"You got a pretty pussy, sweetheart. She's a needy thing, huh?" He teased, before toying with his thumb, running along the seam a moment before holding you open, just in time for him to dive in again.

He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you like a hound starved for days on end would lap at the sweetest, most delicious meal. Quickly, he shrugged your thighs onto his shoulders, holding you against his face, as he slung one arm around you, holding your thigh in place on him and sliding his hand over the plane of your hip before he began to rub at your swollen clit, whilst his tongue diverted his focus to your weeping honeypot.

There couldn't be a finer sight anywhere in the world. You didn't care you were in a casino bathroom, or that you were meant to be working tonight on an important mission. Life or death meant jack shit compared to the sight of Logan kneeling between your legs and devouring you. He even seemed to hum in delight as your hand tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, nearly drowning him in your need.

He pulled back a moment later, strings of your desire still connecting you to his lips, before he swiped them away, licking them from his fingers.

At your whine, he only scoffed. "You don't finish anywhere but on my cock. You understand me?" He grumbled, standing up again, and unfastening his trousers, letting them and his boxers fall in a puddle on the floor in one swift, easy movement. When you glanced down, you could see he was already at full mast. Larger, thicker, veinier than any you had ever had before. It throbbed in his hand, with 3 beads of precum already leaking down his shaft. He palmed himself a moment, letting out a groan, holding his head in line with your clit as he rocked back and forth, gently. Just enough to soak himself in you.

"Mmm… I don't think you're wet enough." He grumbled, a smirk on his face. You were dripping on the counter, you could feel that already, so you knew he was lying, leading up to something. "So what are you gonna do about it?" You ask, locking your gaze with his own.

He pumps his fist along his cock still as he grins back at you, not averting his gaze as he spat, a thick glob of saliva landing right where his cock met your cunt. He smeared it on himself, on you - on where you both would soon become one - and he chuckled. "I always wanted to spit on you. Never thought you'd get so red from it." "I'm not red from tha-" You went to protest, but before you could finish, he had bucked, his entirety sheathed inside of you in one agonisingly ecstatic movement. All of him was buried in your warmth, and your walls shuddered around him. You didn't know which one of you had let out that moan - but you had a sneaky feeling it was both of you.

Your hand gripped his shirt, holding onto the fabric tightly, seeking to anchor yourself however you could, feeling how your body pulsated around him, acclimatising to his invasion. "Fuck," He cursed, resting his forehead on your shoulder, forcing himself to remain in place, not moving until you'd gotten used to him. "What, has it been so long since you've had a dick you re-virginised? You're so tight…" He ground his hips against your own, not yet pulling out, but making sure to give you that friction that brought another moan from your lips. "This pretty pussy's been needing a stretch. Don't worry, Princess, I'll give her a workout."

With that, he pulled back, each inch that he rescinded leaving you clenching down on nothing, feeling desperate without him. Against your will, you whined, tangling your fist further in the fabric of his shirt, urging him back again. Even after pulling out so slowly, he bucked in fast, torturous and barbaric in his speed. He bucked so hard that your entire body jolted with the collision between you, but he pulled back as if he wanted to watch you crying at the loss of him.

"What's the matter, Princess? You look about ready to sob." He mocked, before grunting as he thrust back in, just as hard, and you cried out in your mixed delight and pleasure. "You're the worst," You retort, through gritted teeth, trying to maintain your brain function even as every slight movement of his cock penetrating you seemed to make you want to melt into him, drooling and moaning like a moron who knew nothing other than taking Logan's cock. "Am I?" He purred in return, grinding his teeth as he let out three sharp thrusts in succession, robbing you of your breath as you forced your nails into his chest, drawing a groan of animalistic delight from him.

"Sounds to me like you're 'boutta cum, Princess. If I'm the worst… maybe I'll just stop." "No!" God, your voice sounded so breathy as it echoed back around the room, and Logan lit up at the sound. "No?" He parrotted, lips pursed and eyes amused, before he tutted. "No what? Use your words." "No, don't stop." "You don't want me to stop. 'cause I'm not the worst, right?" "N-not the worst…" You repeated. "Not the worst. Good girl, Princess. I'm the man who's 'boutta make you cum all over my cock, ain't I? I'm the best I am at what I do. And what I do is fucking girls like you 'til you're stupid. Right?"

By now your tongue had gone numb. You couldn't form a word in your mind, let alone in your throat or mouth. Instead, all that passed your lips were gasps and mewls and needy moans, as you forced yourself to nod, trying to get your point across.

It seemed Logan was too far gone as well, as he grinned down at you, feral and angry and delighted.

He leaned in, pressing heated, feverish kisses all over your neck, up and along the column of your throat before his forehead rested on yours.

"Fuck, Princess. I'm not gonna last much longer…" He panted out, his thrusts becoming faster and faster, no longer taunting you, and instead chasing his peak. His free hand reached down as well, his fingers splayed over your womb whilst his thumb played with your red, sensitive clit, eliciting another loud moan from you.

"Where'd you want it?" Logan snarled. "Tell me, and fast before I… ngh." He bucked, his movements sloppy and desperate. You longed for his warmth inside of you. To feel him spill and buck and ride out his afterglow whilst still nestled in your perfect pussy. To watch the look on his face as he pulled out and saw his own seed oozing from you. "Inside," You demand, the only full word you've managed in a long while. "P…please… inside. Inside." "Wish is my command, darlin'." He grunted out.

His lips crashed against your own, tasking of whiskey and pine and your own sweet nectar, the sensation of receiving a kiss from Logan so tender and desperate finally being enough to tip you over that final cliff.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, tugging him closer, as your pussy fluttered all around him, milking him for all he was worth, as a wave of white-hot euphoria rolled over your mind. Your moans were swallowed by Logan's mouth, as he kept kissing you, letting his own moans and grunts escape as well, the shared sounds of your pleasure rumbling in the caverns of your mouths. "Just like that." He rumbled, between open mouth kisses, murmuring into the plush flesh of your lips. "Cum all over me baby. Make my fuckin' day."

You barely even felt the sensation you'd so longed for as Logan buried himself as deep as he could inside of you, spilling every drop of his cum inside of you, whilst you squeezed every ounce he was worth, the pair of you riding out your orgasms at once.

It took a few seconds for you to catch your breath. Both of you had heaving chests and red faces. Logan pulled free from your lips, though not before offering one teasing, apologetic lip to the seam of your mouth, as though to apologise for kissing so hard and leaving you swollen.

You slid an arm around his shoulders, a silent plea not to pull away, as you pulled him in for one more kiss.

But he froze halfway, and glanced down at his trousers, his eyes growing wide and his jaw tensing.

"Logan? What's the matter?" You ask, leaning forward and glancing down as well, brow furrowed. "I didn't mute the comms." He replied, bluntly.

Didn't mute the comms. The comms that had been in his pocket, and would have picked up their activities.

"Get back to the blackbird, you two. Now. Before you're kicked out of the casino." Scott's voice, tinny and furious, escaped the two comms, even from where they were buried in Logan's discarded trousers. "And don't think for a moment you're not going to be punished for this."

Logan chuckled, reaching down to fasten his trousers back on, returning his gaze to you. "I dunno about you, Princess… but I don't care if I get punished. We're doing that again on the way back. C'mon."

You slid your panties and your dress back into place, stood from the counter and took his hand, heading out of the casino with him, already brimming with excitement for round two - this time with muted comms.

I hope you enjoyed and hope I did this justice - I've not really written enemies to lovers before so this was super fun <3 Feedback is super appreciated so please let me know if you enjoyed!! If you're interested, my requests are open so please feel free to send me any questions, ideas or headcanons you'd like me to explore (please just make sure you've read my pinned post first) TYSM for reading and hope you enjoy <3

#logan x reader #logan howlett #james logan howlett #wolverine x you #logan smut #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine xmen #x men #wolverine imagine #logan howlett imagine #logan imagine #james howlett #james howlett smut #requests open #moxxxie answers

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drghostwrite · 4 months ago

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Saints and Sinners

Pairing: Alex Vause x reader

Summary: it’s always the things that you can’t have that make you want them even more. Detective reader meets a locked up Alex willing to trade info for freedom but what happens when they fall for each and the thing separating them coumd destroy your career.

Warnings: smut, minors DNI

******************************************************** A typical day at the office, but that was never the case for you, you were a detective so honestly there was no ‘typical’ day. Most days were murder and mayhem in all forms, today was no different, you found yourself walking through a women’s prison to talk to an informant.

You took off your guns and slowly walked down the hallways escorted by a guard, once you got to the interview room you took a breath before stepping in, you took slow strides towards the table and sat on the corner. You took in the woman before you slightly taller than you, similar build just a little less muscular, dark raven hair and striking green eyes, her black glasses and thin eyebrows, no make up other than what appeared to be eyeliner.

“Well this is different.” The raven haired inmate spoke.

“mm.. and how’s that?” You asked.

“Usually they send the tough guys.” She started almost mocking you.

“I’m pretty tough…”

“I’m sure you are, and you’re pretty.” She smiled and you chuckled back.

“Package deal.”

“And I’m sure that package deal got you enough catcalling when you walked through those gates.” She pointed out.

“Fair enough… so I heard you have something that might help my case?”

“possibly…” she said smirking at you and sitting very composed in her chair.

“Well I brought a deal, in exchange for trading us with intel we release you early on parole…”

“There’s always a catch so what is it?” She asked eyes narrowing.

“You would be my informant.”

“Give you intel in exchange for my freedom., an eye for an eye”

“sounds right up your alley.”

“can’t say your wrong, when do I start?”

“today… we leave now.” You said and a few short moments later you were escorting her outside where your partner and another car of two officers was parked.

“How much did you have to promise her to get her to come along?” One male officer joked.

“a night in her bed is all i would need…” the other said.

“Behave boys…” your partner finally spoke up towering over the other two men.

“Come on man, can’t say you haven’t thought of it.”

“I have enough respect not to.”

“Besides boys you know I would never swing that way.” You replied, and they both made faces annoyed and pouting.

You let her in the back and shortly after found yourself back at the station, “now that you have your informant you need to protect her.”

“thinking witness protection?

“well yea and no, technically we can’t put her in the program because they would wipe her clean no traces BUT if we could get round the clock supervision?” He said looking at you.

“oh you’re not suggesting?…”

“You wanted her as your informant.”

“But… to leave my house?”

“well..”

“Okay what if I housed her AT my house, it’s big and has a good security system, almost to good.”

“Y/N I’ve seen your house, it’s a fortress and its up to you, but you need to keep her close.”

“Fine, get her prepped and I guess she’s coming home with me.” You agreed and stepped out to gather some things.

A few weeks later and you were still adjusting to your new living arrangements, she was in the guest quarters while you were on your side of the house, she occasionally used your main bathroom but you mostly just checked in with each other during meals. You were becoming very close, you were earning each others trust and becoming friends.

You observed Alex more than you would’ve liked to admit, there was some chemistry between the two of you when working together. You loved how you always caught her lounging on your couch reading a book, occasionally coming home to find her sprawled her book having fallen to the ground as she was asleep, so you would grab a blanket and gently cover her. She was smart, smarter than most people let alone criminals, it attracted you to her and her sense of caring and how charming she could be, it always made you wonder if it was all a show. Little did you know that she was also attracted to you, your smarts and abilities, you could charm you way into and out of anything, you were caring and passionate and you made her wish she had never been a criminal. She wanted you more than anything and it felt like you were worlds away.

That is until one night…

“Ugh…” you left out an exhausted groan, lifting the glasses you wore and rubbing your hands down you face, you felt two hands come to your shoulder.

“Stressed?” A sultry voice asked.

“Something like that.” You said in a groan.

“What’s going on?” She asked snaking around the counter to dig through the fridge for the bag of grapes that you kept stocked.

“This case, the entire thing just doesn’t make sense, and I’m tired, and frustrated, and I can’t think straight.”

“sounds like someone needs to get laid…”

“Shut up Alex.” You grumbled as she snickered.

“just saying, tends to be a good stress reliever,” she chuckled again at your face that was turning red.

“Maybe just a shower…” you said standing from your chair and closing your laptop that sat on the island.

“Can I join?” She prodded, popping a grape into her mouth.

“Cute, Vause…” you said as you walked away, she watched the sway of your hips, the way your ass bounced in the pajama pants you wore, how you reached up running your fingers through your messy bun, the tight long sleeve your wore showing the muscles in your arms.

“Dammit, Avery…” she said under her breath watching you walk away, as she devised a plan to help you out. She waited until she heard the shower turn on and slowly made her way to the bathroom, seeing that the door had been left open, the only thing keeping you from her was the curtain.

carefully she started stripping away pieces on clothing, standing outside the shower naked, she slowly moved the curtain and stepped in behind you, the scent of your body wash filling her nose and she inhaled, she reached out and ran a hand over your back feeling you tense.

“Alex?” You whispered.

“Y/N,” she whispered in your ear, starting to kiss down the back of your neck, gently moving your hair aside. She slowly wrapped her hands around you turning you to face her. She looked into your eyes and then your lips before leaning forward and pulling you into a lip locking kiss, you felt her tongue and granted her access and she ghosted over your bottom lip.

“Alex…” you whispered pulling apart for air.

“you tell me if you want me to stop…” she said continuing down your neck. Her hand slid onto the small of your back pulling your bodies closer till they were flush against each other. Her lips found your sweet spot pulling a small moan from your lips before she moved down to your chest, pulling a taut nipple between her teeth before sucking on it.

“Baby I need words…” she said in a low sultry tone.

“Shit, Alex I could lose my job…”

“do you want me to stop?” She said her mouth still working on your breasts as her hand snaked down your back running along your butt that she squeezed and then onto your thigh, lifting your leg around her so she could ghost her fingertips over the smooth skin.

“Hell no…” you said a hand coming up to her hair, she lifted her head to pull you into another kiss, but this time you took control, pushing her away and turning the shower off.

“Y/n?” She asked slightly confused but you pulled her down into a breathtaking kiss, “we were getting to the good part.” She teased.

“Almost…” you said pushing her out of the shower, you didn’t bother with towels as you kept your lips locked guiding her towards your bedroom, pushing her inside and slamming the door closed with her body. You pulled her into a bruising kiss, her hands roaming your body as you pulled her closer one hand coming up to run through her hair. She reached down grabbing the back of your thighs and lifted you enough to carry you over and lay you on the bed.

“playing it rough?” You teased, moving back as she crawled towards you.

“who knew the prim and proper detective was such a freak in bed.” She said, bending down to open your legs, she placed small bites along the inside of your thighs. Her hands massaged your thighs before reaching up to play with your boobs, she placed kisses up your thigh teasing you. You looked down making eye contact and watching her as she mischievously grinned, you felt her drag her tongue up the inside of your thigh, you rolled your eyes as her.

Just for that she bent down her breath hot on your pussy, she pulled her tongue through your folds tasting you for the first time before pulling your clit harshly into her mouth, the pleasure jolted your hips against her and she reached a hand down placing it on your lower stomach keeping your hips still. She buried herself in you, her tongue was magic as she explored all of you. You started breathing more heavily, your moans more frequent as your hips tried to buck against her, one hand reached down and brushed Raven hair out of her face only to tangle in it when she looked up through hooded eyes, the other hand ran down her arm that was currently playing with hardened nipples.

“God you feel so good…” you whined.

“And you taste amazing…” she moaned out, pulling your clit in one last time letting out a low moan that vibrated through your core. She helped you ride out your orgasm as you laid there bodies still tangled together. You chuckled trying to steady your breathing as she grinned, wiping her arm in her elbow, your orgasm covering her mouth.

She slowly moved taking in your gorgeous body as it glistened with sweat and water from the shower that had been abandoned. She moved up as if she were going to leave but instead you reached out grabbing her and sitting up, you pulled her close against you, your lips finding each other.

“Y/N?” She sat up in front of you hands on either side of your head playing with your hair.

“I wanna taste you…” you whispered in her ear, running your tongue over the shell of her ear.

“are you sure?”

“just shut up.” You said heated kisses on her lips, you pushed her back until she was laying out in front of you. You placed kisses all along he body some would be seen tomorrow, she watched at first and then tried to reach you, to touch you but instead you grabbed her wrists and held them both above her head.

“Look but don’t touch…” you said bending down to kiss her again. You saw her eyes tracking you so you looked up as you moved down her body, you let your tongue pull a long swipe up between her breasts before pulling a nipple into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl. She bit her lip with a small smirk watching you.

she watched you move to her stomach where you placed more kisses, and licked again making her twitch beneath you. You moved down to right above her mound and placed kisses, moving into place you hovered over her clit, snaking an arm under her leg you pulled well manicured nails over the sensitive skin before lifting it over your shoulder. The smooth milky skin a contrast to your tan, she moved her foot, brushing it over your back.

“you’re teasing…” she whined pretending to be annoyed.

“well you know what they say about payback… she’s a bitch.” You said licking through her folds but stopping before you reached her clit. She went to reach her hands down to tangle in your hair and you pulled away. She moved them back in a defensive motion slightly annoyed that she couldn’t touch you like she wanted to.

“behave…” you said and she locked eyes with you, this time though you latched onto her clit, pulling a gasp from her lips that quickly turned into a moan.

“Mm… you do taste amazing.” You moaned into her sending shockwave to her core, you bent to let your tongue explore her and as you did, your nose pressed deliciously into her clit, her hips jolted against you pushing you closer. You reached up and placed some pressure right above her hips, hitting the spot, your other hands snaked up to grab her nipple but instead met her hand as she let go, she intertwined your fingers as her other hand gripped at your sheets.

you knew she was close as she moaned and her back arched off the bed, you squeezed her hand and applied a little pressure with the one on her lower stomach, going up and working your tongue around her clit, hearing her orgasm come over her, her loud moans turning into soft little pants.

“Shit Y/N…” she laughed.

“better than you thought?” You teased.

“it’s always better when it’s some thing you can’t have.”

“you know we can’t tell anyone, not yet at least…”

“keeping secrets is my specialty.” She said pulling you in for a kiss. You laid in you bed next to her before she wrapped an arm around you pulling you to lay on her chest.

“Do you think we could ever have a future?” She started.

“like together?” you asked.

“Like together, like a life?”

“I’m not sure, I mean technically once your a free woman, you can do whatever you want.”

“but as your informant…”

“It’s dangerous…”

“A risk is be willing to take.” She said and you sat looking into her eyes trying to figure out if she was serious before laying back down and wrapping an arm around her waist. Silence fell as you started to doze off exhausted from your work week, she slowly laughed, that signature laugh filling the room.

“what’s so funny?” You asked sleepily against her.

“I fell for a detective, what I thought was the enemy, I fell in love with you.”

“funny how that works…” you trailed, “love you to…” you sleepily ran a hand over her side to let her know you meant it before falling back asleep.

~it’s funny how bad you want something you can’t have, until you have it~

#x yn #x reader #alex vause x reader #shut up alex #oitnb #orange is the new black #wlw smut #x reader smut #smut prompts #prison #inmate #y/n #x y/n #wlw ns/fw #dangerous #police officer #alex vause

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 4 months ago

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ANOTHER CHAPTER ALREADY?!

I mean

I dunno what happened

It kinda wrote itself, I had no real hand in this

Please consult with my muses on the subject, I didn't know they were this cracked out tonight

Anyway awaaaay we gggoooooooooo

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x AFAB!Marine!Reader

Ch. 7 of something there's gonna be at least two more chapters

First Chapter link Previous Chapter link

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. He's discovered your secret, and your life hangs in the balance of his mercy.

Possible !!Trigger Warnings!! in this chapter!! Largely for imprisonment and psychological turmoil, though not necessarily psychological torture yet. I will say, for readers who are used to my writing characters with a relatively gentle depiction, I likely won't be taking quite as gentle of an approach here. There is some Yandere possessiveness prevalent here that I haven't written much before.

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,095

Taglist: @i-am-vita @browneyedhufflepuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @littleleelee @nerium-lil @schanwow @dragon-bubs @animefreak818

I'm happy to add anyone that asks. Still flabbergasted that the list is this long.

I forgot to do a music thing last time bc I was so sleepy but I'mma do one this time but IT'S NOT FRATELLIS?? WHO IS EVEN RUNNING THIS BLOG?? SHOULD YOU CALL THE AUTHORITIES??

♫♬The Game- Disturbed♬♫

Tell me, exactly what am I supposed to do, now that I've allowed you to beat me?

Do you think that we could play another game? Maybe I could win this time

Dead, you were dead, he was going to kill you, and all he would have to do to get the job done would be to leave your right there in the shallows and let the tide slowly wash in until you were submerged, drained of strength and helpless.

To tighten his powerful grip around your neck until you ceased gasping for air.

To pull the golden cross from around his neck and plunge the small knife hidden within it into your torso, drag the sharp blade across your neck, watch the light leave your eyes.

So many ways he could kill you, in this very moment.

And yet his hand moved up your neck slowly, his grip unwavering as his fingers wrapped around your jaw instead. He tilted his head the slightest bit as he turned your head to one side, taking in your features with an air of both amusement and vague interest.

“And you were doing so well,” he said lightly, letting out a small sigh as he shook his head. You flinched as the rough pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek. “If you could have just refrained from making that silly little call to your boss last night—aw,” he added, an edge of mockery in his quiet words. “Did you think I was sound asleep the whole time? Poor thing.”

It hadn’t appeared as if he had done more than shift from his back to his side in the time you were gone last night—there had been absolutely no sign that he had gotten out of bed, not a single sound outside the cracked door of the study.

You should have known better.

“Though I must say, I do appreciate the vote of confidence.” Mihawk stood in a swift motion, tightening his grip around your jaw to pull you up with him, drawing a sharp gasp of alarm from you as your feet lifted a few inches from the ground. Still drenched in seawater, you didn’t even have the strength to lift your arms, held up only by his grasp, limp as a ragdoll. “‘No weaknesses.’ I’m almost flattered.”

You swallowed as he brought you closer, lifting his eyebrows a bit, the corner of his mouth curving the smallest bit into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Provided it wasn’t a lie. You have quite the penchant for fooling others, it seems.” He quirked his brow a bit higher, his eyes darting up and down your limp form before settling back on yours. “Well? Was it a lie?”

“Mm—n-no,” you managed to choke out weakly, your eyes wincing and beginning to burn as his fingertips dug harder into your jaw and cheeks. “No…”

“No?” he repeated lightly. “Now, I’m sure you can do better than that, considering how polite you were with your employer last night. And I’m afraid it’s not them you’re answering to anymore. Try again.”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes flickering down toward his hand. “N—no, sir,” you whimpered.

“Ah, much better. Now, then….” The spark of amusement remained present in his yellow eyes as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek once again. “I suppose we should get you back inside and dried off, yes? I’d hate to see you get sick, pet.”

Your stomach felt as if it had dropped out of your body when he lifted you abruptly and flung you over his shoulder, your consciousness wavering between the complete sapping of your strength from the seawater still drenching your clothes and the state of shock you were left in. You drifted in and out during the trek back to the castle, your muscles limp and useless. You didn’t jolt back to a remotely aware state until he heaved you off and dropped you onto the cold stone floor of an unfamiliar part of the castle.

“I do just hate to have to cage you after all this time,” he said as you gazed around, your eyes squinted against the darkness. Judging from the lack of windows, you were below the ground level—and this was confirmed when he lit a torch along the wall opposite the one you were leaning against. “Nearly two months, it’s been, hasn’t it? Hmm. How the time flies.”

The dim orange light of the flame expanded as he lit another, and you realized he had deposited you in a small, square cell. The stone walls and floor were the same as the rest of the castle, if a great deal dustier, but the heavy iron bars and door made it clear that you were in the dungeon beneath the fortress.

“But, you’ve really left me no choice,” he went on with a soft, disappointed sigh. You could just make out his silhouette against the flickering firelight, the rattle of chains as he dug around in the drawer of a heavy desk just within your line of sight. “At least for now. I can’t have you escaping before we have a proper discussion about…” He lifted a heavy pair of iron shackles, examining them before giving a short nod. “About several things, really.”

He stepped slowly into the cell, his pace one of leisure, and stopped a few feet away from you, looking down at your pitiful form as you leaned back against the stone wall of the cell, struggling to steady your breathing, shivering in your damp clothes. He frowned as he looked you up and down, and gave a nod toward you.

“Off,” he said, his voice low but commanding enough that you jumped slightly, your brow furrowing as you tried to discern his meaning. “Off,” he repeated. “Can’t have you getting sick. We have a great deal to talk about.”

Your clothes. You glanced down at the wet fabric clinging to your skin, your stomach turning—he was telling you to get out of your clothes.

“Oh, modest, are we?” he said dryly, lifting an eyebrow. He took another step forward, crouching in front of you. You flinched back a bit when he reached a hand out and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Two months you’ve spent constantly at my side. I’m certain I’ve changed clothes in your presence more than a handful of times.”

“I...I didn’t...look,” you whimpered out, swallowing, closing your eyes as your face flared with heat.

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed. “I did find that curious, but you were quite the curious little bird.” You opened your eyes when you heard the chains of the shackles clink lightly, and watched as he stood, rolling his eyes as he turned around, his back to you. “Fine,” he said. “You may keep your undergarments. They’ll dry quickly enough.”

You almost wished that he had just killed you out by the shore. The embarrassment, the utter humiliation of pulling your tank top over your head and letting it fall to the floor with the towering form of the swordsman only a few feet away was enough to make you wish you could drop dead on the spot. You fumbled with your belt buckle, the buttons at the fly of your pants, before kicking them off along with your boots, wrapping your arms around your knees and clenching your eyes shut, trembling from more than just the cold, damp air of the dungeon now.

You heard a rustle of fabric in front of you, and before you could open your eyes you felt the material land in a heap at your feet. You cracked an eye open and frowned at the white heap.

Glanced up at him, your eyes widening as you realized he had removed his flowy, ruffled shirt, his back and shoulders bare as he crossed his arms, still facing the door of the cell.

“Put it on,” he commanded, stepping out of the cell. “And quickly. I pride myself on many things, my dear pet, but patience is not among them.”

You were already picking up the shirt and shrugging it around your shoulders before he finished, fumbling with the buttons with unsteady hands. The shirt was large enough on your much smaller form that it covered you from your shoulders to more than halfway down your thighs, the hem brushing your knees as you tugged it down, staring down at the floor, listening to the chair at the desk scrape across the stone. He set it down in front of you and tossed the shackles down at your feet, taking a seat and crossing an ankle over his knee.

“Those as well,” he said.

The moment your hand touched the shackles, you felt what little strength you had managed to regain begin to drift away from your body all over again. He chuckled when you drew your hand back as if you had been shocked.

“Seastone,” he said. “I salvaged them from the wreckage of a Marine vessel a handful of years ago. Thought they might prove useful one day. Go on.” He nodded down at them as you briefly met his eyes. “Around your ankles. So long as you remain compliant, I will allow you the continued use of your hands. You may need them at some point.”

You didn’t dare ask what that might mean.

You did, however, do as he told you. The seastone shackles felt as if they weighed fifty or more pounds, and it took some effort for you to drag them up even to the height of your ankles and clamp them shut.

“Very good,” he commended, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms, his eyes never leaving you as you slumped back weakly against the walls. “Still such an obedient pet, aren’t you?” Every breath you drew in took a herculean effort, felt as if it might be the last you managed to draw before you passed out from sheer physical exhaustion. “Now, this is a first on my part. I’ve never been one to waste time taking prisoners. You ought to consider yourself privileged. Grateful for my continued hospitality despite your blatant betrayal.”

You swallowed, unable to do anything but give a weak nod.

He gave another small chuckle. “You’ve been trained to handle being the victim of a potential hostage situation,” he commented—it wasn’t a question. He cocked his head slightly to the side. “You’re quite small for a Marine. What rank are you, little bird?”

“Cadet,” you forced out—and, when he lifted an eyebrow, you quickly added, “s—sir.”

“Cadet,” he repeated, leaning back a bit further. “Hm.” He lifted a hand to his chin, his expression thoughtful as he brushed his thumb across his short goatee. “And they saw fit to send you after me.” You nodded again. “Your commanding officers either have a great amount of faith in your potential or they were trying to get rid of you. Which do you think it was?”

“T...they offered me the mission,” you said quietly. “I could have turned it down.”

“Faith in your potential, then,” he said lightly. “What a pity for them Of course, they weren’t wrong,” he went on, lowering his hand down to his knee, strumming his fingers there slowly. “You did play your role well. Well enough to fool that charming pet shop owner in Acacia, even. A veritable expert on the subject. You must have done your homework. Breezed through all your tests with flying colors. I did my own homework, as you know. Amid my reading, I recall mention that wounded or sick pets might show signs of decreased appetite. Interruption of sleep. In extreme cases, potentially isolating themselves from their owners. You see…” He tilted his head once more to meet your eyes, his gaze holding your own with an intensity that made it impossible for you to break the contact. “Had I not woken last night we might not even be having this conversation. Had I not noticed your absence and worried enough to go looking for you.”

Your worry over your mission. Your inability to eat or sleep regularly. Of course he had noticed. You were an idiot to think he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Had I not heard a voice coming from the study below my chambers,” he went on, lowering his voice, “you might have been able to complete your mission without a single hitch. I would have been forced to assume when you left that you had flown off somewhere to die.”

You flinched at that, closing your eyes and lowering your head.

“Oh, now what is this?” He chuckled. “Are we feeling guilty?”

“Yes.” You spoke through gritted teeth—there was no point in lying. You were already compromised, already at his mercy. “I…made the call last night because I…I couldn’t leave with nothing to show for it. Or without…” You swallowed once more, lowering your head to your knees. “I only had four days left. I was expected to slip away unnoticed and rendezvous with my commanding officers at a designated location before returning to Marineford to report on any potential weaknesses of yours I might have discovered.”

“And you claimed you found none,” he continued for you.

You nodded. “But...caring for another living creature is always a potential weakness,” you said quietly.

“Aaah.” You swallowed dryly, clenching your eyes shut tighter as you heard him push the chair back. The whisper of his boots on the stone floor as he took a step forward, the quiet rustle as he crouched down in front of you. “And you were unwilling to list your own presence as a potential weakness. Is that it?” You nodded again, and tensed as he caught your chin in his hand. “And here I’ve already admitted to having worried for the well-being of my pet. You certainly did do a stellar job, didn’t you, my little bird?”

His tone, his touch was almost gentle, despite that edge of persisting amusement at your predicament.

“Open your eyes.”

You obeyed his command once again—though your eyelids fluttered in your growing state of exhaustion brought on by the effects of the seastone shackles wrapped around your ankles, you did your best to maintain eye contact, only vaguely aware of his thumb brushing across your bottom lip as you gazed into his yellow irises.

“I may yet have use for you,” he murmured, his voice still light and amused. “I suppose you are a pretty little thing, if nothing else. And your abilities...well, you managed to fool me, now, didn’t you? Don’t,” he added, his tone sharpening as your eyes began to drift shut, and they shot back open. “There’s one more matter. You spoke of some offer while you were making your call last night. What is it?”

“W...warlord,” you forced out. “The World Government wants to offer pirates they consider too dangerous to combat status as ‘Warlords.’ No more than seven. Bounties expunged in exchange for an agreement to cease hostility against Marines and other World Government officials, and potentially being called upon to assist with other threats.”

“Warlords,” he repeated, letting out a quiet chuckle. “And you’ve been granted permission to extend me this offer?” You gave a small nod, blinking slowly, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Since you’ve reported to your commanding officers that I have no weaknesses they can exploit.” Another nod, and a quiet affirmative hum. “Mm-hmm,” he repeated, smirking. “I suppose it’s worth thinking over. At least until you’ve regained the ability to discuss the subject coherently.”

“Four days.” He lifted his eyebrows at your mumbling, waiting for you to continue. “Need to make contact in four days or they could send a Buster Call.”

“Ah.” His thumb brushed across your cheek, and you found yourself leaning unconsciously toward the warmth of his palm. “So they would sink this entire island into the depths of the ocean with you still on it, would they?” The hum you gave this time was neither affirmative nor dissenting—it was simply in acknowledgment that he had spoken at all, as your lessening coherency made it increasingly difficult to follow his words. “That does sound quite like the Marines. Heaven forbid they should have any loose ends to worry about.”

He expelled a slow sigh, one that might have been of resignation or annoyance, or perhaps some melding of both. Either way, the warmth of his breath across your face made your eyes drift shut, made you fall fully limp against the wall behind you.

You barely registered anything beyond that. Not his light shake at your shoulder in attempt to rouse you, his exasperated sigh as he caught you before you could fall sideways and hit your head against the stone floor.

Not his irritated grumble of, “Troublesome woman,” as he drew one of your hands up to cushion your head against the hard stone floor before he pulled himself to his feet to frown down at you.

To wonder why he hadn’t shoved his way through the door of his study the moment he heard your voice last night and throttled you in that moment.

To wonder why the hell he still had any concern at all for your continued safety and well-being.

You had spent two months, two months deceiving him, abusing his good will, masquerading as a loyal companion when you were nothing more than a dirty little spy.

His hands twitched into fists for a moment as he stared down at you, gritting his teeth. He could end your life right now. It would be only too easy. Crush your throat beneath the heel of his boot. Wrap a hand around your delicate neck until the labored rise and fall of your chest ceased entirely. You had already warned him of the Marines’ potential intent to destroy this island. He could dispose of you and leave on his own before that ever came to pass.

You shifted in your sleep on the cold stone floor, shivering slightly and laying a hand over the toe of one of his boots.

Mihawk swore under his breath, reaching behind him to drag the chair back into place and sit down heavily, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed your slight form below him on the floor covered only by his own shirt.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with you?” he grumbled under his breath, shaking his head, not completely aware himself of how his own gaze softened as he looked down at you. “Useless thing….”

His prisoner.

His pet.

His pretty little bird.

He would be damned if anyone but him were allowed to decide your fate.

First chapter and Previous chapter links again for your convenience

#one piece #opla #mihawk x reader #mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #fan fiction #one piece fan fiction #fanfic #one piece fanfic #mihawk x reader fanfic #dracule mihawk x reader fanfic #flightrisk

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thatlotuscookie · 3 months ago

Note

get this, a hawks x fem reader where she's a spy working for the League of Villains but starts catching feelings for Hawks while undercover? and there's a scene where she has to decide whether to betray him or not, and the angst is REAL. happy ending please!

✧･ﾟ: a/n : ANONN, i love this idea so much, it was so nice to write out, the mix of angst and romance got me ROLLING. its too good. If enough people want, I can even make a series or just a few oneshots with these two, let me know in the comments!! thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy!~

✧ Title: ✧ Between Loyalty and Love ✧ ✧ Characters: Hawks (Keigo Takami) x Reader (Fem!Reader, Spy!Reader) ✧ Genre: Angst, Romance, Spy ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: While working undercover for the League of Villains, you find yourself developing feelings for Hawks. As the line between your growing affection and your mission blurs; you face a heart-wrenching decision: betray the trust of the man you've come to care for, or protect him at all costs. ✧ Content Warnings: Angst, Betrayal, Emotional turmoil, Spy themes, Mentions of espionage ✧ WC: 1647 words // 9.1k chars

You weren’t supposed to feel this way.

Being undercover for the League of Villains was a task, a mission you had trained for years to perfect. Blending in, earning trust, and playing your role—those were your skills, the ones that made you so valuable to the League. And that’s exactly why you were chosen for this job: infiltrate the hero world, get close to Hawks, and gather information.

At first, it had been easy. Keigo Takami, or Hawks as the world knew him, was exactly what you expected. Smooth, charismatic, always wearing that charming smile like an effortless mask. He was everything the League told you he would be—a dangerous mix of power and charm. And it was thrilling to be close to him, working side by side.

But then, something had changed.

It started with small things. The way he’d glance over at you after a tough mission, exhaustion clear in his eyes but still trying to offer you that carefree smirk. The way he would confide in you, his voice soft and unguarded, sharing pieces of his past—things you weren’t supposed to know. He trusted you. Hawks let his walls down around you, revealing a man who wasn’t always so put together. He was vulnerable in ways you never imagined a pro hero would be.

And that’s when you started to fall.

The League would have seen it as a weakness—your growing affection for him—but you couldn’t stop it. Every time Hawks opened up to you, every time he teased you with that stupid grin, a piece of you broke off from your mission. You tried to remind yourself why you were here, why you needed to stay close to him. But every time, it got harder. The line between loyalty to the League and your feelings for Hawks blurred more with each passing day.

Then came the night you almost walked away from it all.

It had been a long day for both of you. You had just finished a joint mission, gathering intel on a dangerous villain threat, something unrelated to your mission but still intense enough to have you both running on fumes. Afterward, the two of you found yourselves in a quiet, dimly lit bar tucked away in a corner of the city.

Hawks sat across from you, the usual teasing grin absent from his face. He leaned back, nursing a drink, his wings lazily draped over the back of his chair. For once, he looked tired—really tired. His eyes were half-lidded, his guard down.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “I think I’m starting to hate this city.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You? Hate anything?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not hate, exactly… It’s just… It gets exhausting. Pretending like everything’s fine all the time. Keeping up the act, y’know?”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling the weight of your own pretense. “Yeah… I get that.”

Hawks looked at you then, his eyes softer than you had ever seen them. For a moment, you wondered if he could see right through you, if he knew the lies you were carrying.

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m the only one trying to keep the world from falling apart,” he said quietly. “But it’s too big. Too broken.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You had never seen this side of him before—the vulnerability, the weariness. It made you feel even guiltier for what you were about to do. You weren’t supposed to care about him. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“You’re not alone, Hawks,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve got people who care about you.”

For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his eyes. “Do I?”

Your heart ached at his question, the doubt in his voice making you want to reach out, to tell him everything. But you couldn’t. Not yet.

The next day, the League’s order came.

You had known this day would come eventually. The mission had always been clear—get close to Hawks, earn his trust, and when the time came, betray him. But knowing it was coming didn’t make it any easier.

You sat alone in your apartment, staring at your phone. The League had sent you the final instructions. They needed one last piece of information—something critical that would bring Hawks and the entire Hero Commission down. All you had to do was send it.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a thousand pounds. One tap, and everything would be over.

But you couldn’t do it.

The memory of Hawks’ tired smile from the night before haunted you. The way he had confided in you, the way he had trusted you. How could you betray that? How could you betray him?

The door to your apartment suddenly creaked open, and you jumped, quickly hiding your phone. Hawks stepped inside, his usual confident swagger in full force, but there was something different in his eyes. Something darker.

“Hey, there you are,” he greeted, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “You’ve been off the radar. Everything okay?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “Yeah, just… tired.”

Hawks’ gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if he was trying to read your mind. “You sure? You seem a little… distracted.”

Your heart raced, fear and guilt twisting in your stomach. Did he know? Could he tell?

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “Just a lot on my mind.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push it either. Instead, he walked over to the window, looking out at the city below. His wings twitched slightly, as if he was restless.

“You ever think about how fragile it all is?” he asked, his voice quiet. “Everything we’re fighting for… how easily it could fall apart.”

You stared at his back, your chest tightening. He was talking about the Hero Commission, about the world they were trying to protect. And here you were, holding the power to destroy it all.

“Hawks, I—”

Before you could finish, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You froze, dread filling you. It was the League, no doubt checking to see if you had completed your mission.

Hawks glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “You gonna get that?”

You hesitated for a second too long, and that was all it took. Hawks’ expression shifted, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with something far more serious. He crossed the room in an instant, his hand gently but firmly taking your wrist.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, but there was an edge to his voice now. “What’s going on?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic rising. You tried to pull away, but he held you in place, his gaze piercing through you.

“Hawks, I—”

“You’re hiding something,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve noticed it for a while now. You’re not telling me everything.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You had been so careful, so sure you could keep your secret hidden. But Hawks was smarter than you gave him credit for.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

His grip on your wrist tightened for a moment, and then, slowly, he let you go. He stepped back, his wings shifting restlessly behind him. “Tell me the truth.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your betrayal crashing down on you. “I’m a spy. For the League of Villains.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Hawks’ eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“You… you’re with the League?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks. “They sent me to get close to you, to gather information. I was supposed to betray you.”

Hawks didn’t move, didn’t speak. His wings drooped slightly, the usual energy that surrounded him fading away.

“And now?” he asked quietly. “What are you supposed to do now?”

Your voice cracked as you answered. “I was supposed to send them everything today. But I couldn’t. I can’t.”

Hawks stared at you for a long time, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a long, shaky breath. “Why?”

“Because I care about you,” you admitted, your heart aching. “I didn’t mean to, but I do. I care about you too much to hurt you.”

For a moment, you thought he might yell at you, might push you away. But instead, Hawks stepped forward, his expression softening.

“I knew,” he said quietly, his voice full of a sadness you hadn’t expected. “I knew from the beginning that you were working for them.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “You… you knew?”

He nodded, his wings ruffling slightly behind him. “Yeah. I had a feeling from the start. But I didn’t care.”

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“Because I liked you,” Hawks said simply, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “I liked you enough to take the risk.”

He took another step forward, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. “Now I know you’re not like them.”

Your heart ached at his words, the weight of your emotions crashing over you. “Hawks, I—”

Before you could say anything else, Hawks leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—just a quiet moment of understanding, of forgiveness. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“We’ll figure this out,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet determination. “Together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from guilt or fear. They were from hope.

For the first time, you believed that maybe, just maybe, things could turn out alright.

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months ago

Text

where the brook bends

the wistful wyvern, chapter two

a/n: something about fighting giant spiders just feels so quintessential skyrim...

summary: “you are two of my most trusted warriors. If it can’t be me out there, then it should be you two,” his glance then shifted between you both as he noticed the look on your face, “unless, of course, you have any objections.”

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity, arachnophobia (giant spiders), weapons, violence, bathing in a river

word count: 2243

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“This is the third time in two years that dragon has attacked us,” the king’s jaw clenched, “third time, and we still don’t know how to slay it,” leaned against the central table in the war room, he glanced up to find Bucky’s eyes, “I was planning on going on a mission to gather intel, find its lair, study the beast, but–… things have changed,” on a heavy exhale, he let his eyes momentarily fall shut, “I need to stay here,” he stated slowly, “I can’t risk my life on a quest like this, not now that Cordelia is born… so,” his gaze fluttered back open, “I’m here to ask the two of you to take care of it.”

Shooting a glance over at Bucky, you hesitantly uttered, “us?”

You wanted to say no. A mission such as this could take months, and being stuck with Bucky for that long, just the two of you on the road, having to work so closely together, it might break you for good.

But then when Steve’s gaze locked with your own, the declination got stuck in your throat.

“You are two of my most trusted warriors. If it can’t be me out there, then it should be you two,” his glance then shifted between you both as he noticed the look on your face, “unless, of course, you have any objections.”

“No, of course not, your majesty,” you swiftly replied, knowing that this plague was so much bigger than your own little feelings, “it would be an honour.”

“Hi, I’m here to pick up an order, it should be under the name Y/l/n.”

“Ah, yes,” the blacksmith nodded with recognition, “your blades are right over here,” he turned to retrieve them, “it was five new daggers, correct?” he glanced over his shoulder as he gathered the crafted arms in his grasp.

“Oh, six actually,” you slightly raised yourself up onto your toes to catch a glimpse.

“Right,” he turned his attention back to the table of finished and shiny weapons, “uh–”

But then before the blacksmith could begin to panic, a young apprentice came running over from the forge, “uncle, here!” and handed him the last dagger, “sorry, I was sharpening them and forgot one of them by the grinding stone.”

“Thank you, Peter,” he then let his expert eye wash over the metal, “ah, you’re getting better!” a bright grin crept up on the lad's face, “excellent work, my boy,” the blacksmith then walked back to where you waited and slid the cloth-bound blades over the soot-stained counter, “here you are, miss.”

“How much do I owe you?” you opened up your coin purse and began to flick through the change.

“Oh, no,” his hands raised up before him, “no charge,” a gentle shake tipped his head, “that’s already been taken care of by his royal majesty himself.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “received a letter yesterday morning for anything that you, or your other warden friend out there, might need, to put it on his tab.”

“Alright, then,” a grateful chuckle bubbled out of you, “thank you.”

And as you headed back out of the open smithy onto the quaint streets of Borün, the proprietor cheerily called after you, “have a good day!”

“You too!” you glanced back over your shoulder and offered the two figures a small wave.

Nestled in a t-intersection, the heat of blacksmith swiftly got soothed by the breeze from the docks that bloomed only a few storefronts down to the left. The melody of gentle waves crashing against the harbour sloshed directly into your soul. One seagull had even dared to bravely wander past you into the town square that unfolded in the opposite direction. Casting a brief glance down there, by the bistro on the corner, you saw an energetic child spring and flee from the rest of their family, as they sat around one of the cosy outdoor seating options and enjoyed a quiet lunch, to favour a sprint around the vast tree that stood rooted in the centre of the square.

“Did you get what you needed?” Bucky asked as you exited the shop, his grasp clutched tight around the reins of both Echo, his own horse that had a shiny black coat, as well as Zenna, the brown spotted mare you’d ridden for years.

“Yep,” you tugged the newly acquired weapons into one of the saddlebags strapped to your horse, “you ready to go or do you have any last-minute errands before we head out?”

“Nope, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” he exhaled as you slid up onto Zenna, “let’s head out.”

“So, the dragon always escaped out west,” Bucky spoke, shooting a glance in your direction as you rode beside him, “every time, it was that direction.”

“Hm…” you searched your inner map, your vision dancing betwixt the trees you passed as you cut through the south-eastern corner of The Noll Woods, “could it be dwelling out by Anng?”

“Maybe…” he cocked his head, “there are a lot of small islands all along that part of the coast, maybe it could have claimed one of them?”

“Possibly…” one of your brows then tilted up as a theory struck you, “or perhaps it’s even closer than that,” your neck twisted and you met his eye, “The Asadånie Mountains.”

“That certainly is a possibility,” his gaze averted as he thought on it, “I mean, the mountain range is immensely vast and dangerous by design. I don’t even think it’s ever been properly represented on a map yet with how few venture up there.”

A noise then suddenly found your ear. A shrill clicking call from somewhere within the forest.

“Shh, shut up,” you swiftly snapped as you pulled on the reins to stop your horse.

Not hearing your hushed tone, Bucky kept on rambling, “it’s perfectly tucked away and secluded for a creature such as a dragon.”

“Barnes, I mean it, shut up,” you raised your voice sternly as your eyes raked the overgrown area around you.

“What?” he finally stopped as well a few paces ahead of you, “what is it?”

Sliding off of Zenna, you carefully looked around, listening intently for the sound that had chilled your bones.

You should have looked up, because if you had, then you would have maybe spotted the giant spiders lurking before they dropped down from their vast webs spun throughout the treetops above.

When one pounced on you, its curled fangs gnashing for a bite of your flesh, Bucky jumped off of Echo, though didn’t reach you before two skittered out to get him.

Drawing a dagger in each of your grasps, you then sank both of them into the spider’s dark and clustered eyes, twisting them clockwise before it sank to the forest floor below.

As you yanked them back out, a spray of ickier trailed your blades, even as you turned to throw one of them into the bigger of the creatures advancing on your comrade, your aim slaying it instantaneously, the viscus scattered against the side of your face at the toss.

But then a fourth one came from out of nowhere and pinned you down in the dirt. With the weapon still in your palm, your reach was too limited to strike it anywhere vital, though you still dealt a few blows where you could. Pierce it open above you, slimy viscera spilt out and showered your struggling form.

On your next attack, the hilt of your blade managed to get stuck in the tough hide of the monster, and with the spider guts that slicked up not only your grasp, you began to fear you wouldn’t be able to pry it back out.

But just before your hands slipped, as you tried to push it off of you and not render you its dinner, the spider suddenly went limp above you and you glanced up to see a thick bolt splitting its skull.

“Hey,” you snapped as you scrambled up onto your feet, “I had that one!”

Swinging his crossbow back over his shoulder, Bucky simply smirked, “sure, you did,” and bent down to pick up the dagger you tossed to save him, briefly flipping it playfully in his palm before he glanced up and threw it. For a split second, your eyes went wide, but then the short blade flew past your ear, and as your neck twisted to follow it, you watched as it logged itself into a younger spider you hadn’t noticed till now.

As the horses grazed and drank from the nearby stream, you unfastened your own bedroll from the back of Zenna.

When it was nestled under your arm, you offered the horse a gentle pat before turning back to the makeshift camp for the night. Sparks finally began to dance from Bucky’s efforts and the pile of twigs he had gathered was set aflame.

Once your bedroll was unfurled on the mossy ground, you quietly sat atop of it, chewing on some dry rations you’d found in the bottom of your satchel and stared at the sun as it slowly sank into the horizon. As your vision danced between soft pink clouds in the lavender sky, your gaze suddenly grew wide as Bucky stood up from his side of the fire and began to shed his clothes.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he peeled off the partial chainmail he wore and swiftly the dark blue tunic beneath, revealing his bare back to you before he cast a glance over his shoulder.

“Going for a dip. What does it look like I’m doing?” not slowing down at your alarm, he fiddled with his belt and stepped closer to the riverbank, “you know, you could use one as well,” he playfully added before stripping off the last of his clothing, “you reek of spider guts, my friend,” your gaze instantly fled up towards the sky before you could see more than just his backside.

At the splash of his jumping into the water, you subtly sniffed yourself before reluctantly uttering, “alright, fine,” and you pushed yourself up to your feet. After gathering a clean shirt as well as a wide rag to dry yourself off with from your supplies, you piped up again, “but you stay up here, I’ll go find somewhere more private further down.”

“Ah, come on, snow, you don’t have to do that!” he argued as you began to wander away, “what do you want me to turn around? Promise not to sneak a peek at your goods?”

But you just kept up your stride and called over your shoulder, “enjoy your bath, Barnes!”

The stream luckily curved slightly a ways further down. Not a lot, but enough to grant you enough assurance to give it a go. After you’d peeled off your layers of clothing and the pieces of leather armour that protected your frame, you slowly dipped a toe into the cool water.

The blushing skies slowly melted into black as you bathed in the river. When you took a moment to rinse out the ivory tunic you’d worn, your gaze flickered down the stream to spot Bucky as he splashed water up onto the part of him not submerged. As droplets danced down his skin, you nearly stopped breathing entirely as you followed their trail down to what the water obscured.

But then, like snapping awake from a dream, the dizzying sensation gave away to the depressing reality.

Once you’d scrubbed and cleaned yourself the best that you could, the stars above began to twinkle as you patted your skin dry and shrugged on the acquired clean shirt, a burgundy one, as well as the rest of your attire.

When you found your way back towards the camp, Bucky was already sitting by the fire, dressed and with his hair still dripping gently and turning the shoulders of his navy tunic nearly as dark as the night sky.

After you’d hung your wet shirt over a nearby branch, without sharing another word with the other warden you travelled with, you laid down on your bedroll and closed your eyes.

But before too long, Bucky’s low timbre found your ears over the crackling of the fire.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?”

“Uh, I’m trying to fall asleep,” you sighed loudly, “just as you should.”

“No, I mean what’s going on?” he persisted, “are you mad at me or something?”

Your eyes then blinked open to stare up at the stares, “why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know, yet you’ve given me the cold shoulder ever since you came back from Efira,” he then asked, “did something happen there?”

“Other than comb through tombs with a boring ass lord,” you huffed, “no, nothing happened.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he demanded.

The muscles in your jaw clenched tightly before you uttered, “nothing’s wrong.”

“Did I do something to piss you off?” he kept pushing, “because if so, I’m sorry.”

Your muscles flexed as you forcefully raised yourself up on onto an elbow and twisted to shoot him a glare, “look, we are here on an important mission. We don’t have to be all buddy-buddy and reminisce about old times in order to get the job done, alright?”

Dark brows tightly knitted together, he stared back at you before eventually huffing, “fine.”

“Great,” you then heatedly flopped back down and tensely turned your back to him, “goodnight.”

#lea’s writing #eflorr au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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Could U PLZZZ name the Reader Isabel!! plz some smut, bucky barnes, choking kink, kinda innocent... mainly winter solider look!

PRETTY plz it would mean SO muchhhh

Okay but imagine you have an up and coming mission which requires you to take on a new identity. Isabel Rosa, the young daughter of a business man, looking to buy art in the black market. You're to attend a gala hosted by an investor so you can get some intel on the target but you're nervous because you've never done this before.

To make sure everything goes well, you're given a "bodyguard" to ensure no one messes with you or tries anything when you attend that night.

And the plan works perfectly because no one dares look at you twice when you stroll into the event dressed in your pretty pink dress with the 6ft+ winter soldier attached to your arm. There isn't a soul in the room who doesn't know who that is. Dressed head to toe in an all black suit, his dark chestnut hair framing his face, piercing blue eyes enough to make everyone look away. He wears his mask as he escorts you and you can feel all the weapons he has strapped to him when he puts his arm around your waist.

"Relax bunny" He whispers when you shiver nervously, plucking a flute of champagne for you. "it's gonna be fine. No one can touch you as long as I'm here"

You silently nod, taking a small sip while he scans the room, guiding you to the target so you can get closer. He knows his job is to focus on keeping you out of harms way and he does that with ease but he can't help get a little distracted each time you nuzzle further into his side. He loves the way you tightly cling onto him each time you introduce yourself to someone. Its hard to ignore the way you make his pants feel too tight and his composure starts to falter when you both go to an office room to grab a flash drive.

He locked the door behind him while you crack open a safe, pocketing all the contents inside. You gasped, suddenly feeling him right behind you, his tall form towering over you.

"Isabel" He purrs into your ear while you bite your lip nervously, his gravelly muffled voice making your heart race. "Such a pretty name, bunny, y'know that"

"James, we have to go" You squeak, ignoring the throb between your legs while he shakes his head, grabbing you and plopping you onto a large wooden desk.

"Shhh" The rough, hard material of his mask brushes against your shoulder as he continues to whisper, "Don't think I can't smell you bunny"

He gathers the skirt of you dress up, shamelessly shoving his hand into your panties, letting his fingers gather your slick before playing with your sensitive clit.

"Look at you Isabel" He teases, pushing a finger in without warning making you cry out. As soon as a sound slips out, his metal hand grabs your throat, softly squeezing the sides. "Quiet, before all your little investors hear what a whore you are"

You instantly shut up while he continues his slow torture, loving the way you whine and whimper for more.

"What's wrong love" He cooes at your glassy eyes, pressing his erection against your dripping cunt.

"Please soldier" You quietly beg and who is he to say no to such a perfect doll asking for his cock. He legs go of you for a second to undo his pants and pull his length out, pumping it while you gape at the size.

"Never seen a cock before, bunny?" Bucky smirks, using the head to flick at your button a few times, guiding you to look down at the way his pink tip leaks, making your clit sticky with his arousal. "Gonna fill you right up, doll, don't worry"

He hasn't forgotten the mission, his eyes still glancing at the door, ears still sharp for footsteps but he's not about to let this opportunity go. He slides in, shoving his cock in all at once, grasping your neck again before you could scream. He starts to pound relentlessly while your arms and legs cling onto his body, silently sobbing from pleasure.

He growls feeling your cunt squeeze him making his cock throb, smacking your thigh when he feels you clench. He knows you want to scream so bad, the quiver of your lip driving him insane. He takes his mask off, shoving it in your mouth.

"We're gonna be here a while Isabel, better he quiet"

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opulent-valkyrie · 3 months ago

Text

Something i thought of while writting my exam :3

Chuuya x Reader

Sharing a bed situation

The mission hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. The intel you and Chuuya were supposed to gather ended up being far more of a trap than you’d anticipated, and after narrowly escaping, you both found yourselves stranded in the middle of nowhere at a run-down motel with only one room left.

“Of course, there’s only one bed,” you mused, smirking as you tossed your bag onto the sole piece of furniture that qualified as a mattress. “A setup straight out of a bad romantic comedy. Tell me, Chuuya, are you the type to steal the blankets?”

Chuuya glared at you from across the room, rolling his eyes as he removed his hat and tossed it onto a chair. “Shut up, this is temporary. We’ll be out of here in a few hours anyway, once Mori sends backup.”

You stretched out on the bed, sprawling as much as you could just to get on his nerves. “Sure, sure. But until then, looks like we’re sharing. Don’t worry, I won’t bite… unless you ask.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed, and you could practically feel the heat of his irritation boiling over. “You’re such a pain,” he muttered, stalking over to the bed and yanking the pillow from under your head.

You pouted dramatically, flipping onto your side as you watched him with amusement. “Aw, is the big bad mafia executive afraid of a little closeness? You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

Chuuya’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “You and your feelings can shove it,” he snapped, before plopping down on the opposite side of the bed, as far away from you as possible.

You sighed contentedly, shifting slightly so that your back was to him, but still speaking in that teasing tone you knew would set him off. “You’re so tense, Chuuya. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re uncomfortable being this close to me. Does the great gravity manipulator not know how to handle a little emotional gravity?”

You snickered, loving how easy it was to rile him up. “Promises, promises,” you said, your voice light and playful. You could almost hear him grinding his teeth beside you. The silence that followed was thick with the tension you knew he was desperately trying to ignore.

“Keep talking and I’ll throw you out of the room with more than just gravity,” he growled, pulling the blanket over himself aggressively.

A few minutes passed, and you could sense Chuuya trying to get comfortable. You shifted slightly, moving closer just enough to brush against his arm. “You’re so warm,” you commented, a sly grin spreading across your face.

“*What the hell do you think you’re doing?*” Chuuya barked, pulling away from you as if you’d set him on fire.

You turned to face him, eyes wide with mock innocence. “What? I’m just trying to get comfortable! Can’t a colleague appreciate some body heat?”

He shot you a glare that could’ve burned through steel. “You can appreciate the floor if you’re that cold.”

“You’re so cruel,” you sighed dramatically, laying an arm across your forehead as if in some tragic play. “Here I thought we were partners, allies. But no, the great Chuuya Nakahara would rather see me suffer than share the warmth of his tiny little heart.”

“Will you stop talking?” he grumbled, turning his back to you and tugging the blanket tighter around himself.

You watched him for a moment, feeling that familiar spark of enjoyment from watching him struggle to hold his composure. There was always something fun about pushing Chuuya’s buttons—it was like watching a beautifully controlled explosion.

But beneath all the teasing, there was something else. Something that made the closeness between you two feel more dangerous than any mission.

Without warning, you slid closer again, just enough that your breath tickled the back of his neck. “You know, Chuuya,” you murmured, your voice taking on a more serious tone, “for all your barking, you’ve never once asked me to leave.”

He froze, and you could see the tension ripple through his body.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “It’s just easier to deal with you when you’re in one place.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, and you propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him. “Is that what you tell yourself? That you tolerate me because it’s convenient?”

Chuuya’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, he rolled onto his back, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your playful demeanor falter for just a second.

“You really think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” he asked quietly, his voice low and controlled, but there was something simmering beneath the surface—something more than just the usual irritation.

You shrugged, the playful smile returning to your lips, though now it felt a little different. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just waiting for you to figure it out.”

His gaze didn’t waver, and for once, neither of you had a quick retort. The tension between you shifted, something heavier now hanging in the air. Chuuya’s eyes searched yours, and for a split second, you saw that vulnerability he tried so hard to hide beneath all his bravado.

But then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone. He scoffed, turning his head away. “Whatever. Just stay on your side of the bed.”

You grinned, laying back down beside him with a satisfied sigh. “Sure, Chuuya. Whatever you say.”

The silence that followed was different than before. You could still feel his presence beside you, the tension no longer something you wanted to provoke, but something you knew would be there, unspoken, between you.

For now, at least.

#chuuya x reader #bsd fluff #bsd chuuya #chuuya x y/n #bsd #chuuya nakahara #new writer boost #new writers on tumblr #fanfic #sharing a bed #kafka asagiri #y/n #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n

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pandapetals · 2 months ago

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I absolutely LOVE your stories! They’re some of my favorites to read, especially the Logan and reader being in an established relationship series. They’re so adorable 🥰

I was wondering if you could do a story with Logan (any Logan) and his girlfriend/wife (could be the established relationship series or separate). The girlfriend/wife is jealous of a female mutant Logan has to do a mission with where they have to act like a couple…something like that!

Thank you so much! <3 I had to rework this like 5 times but I think I'm finally happy with it. Thank you for the request and hopefully I did it justice.

logan howlett x fem!mutant reader - jealousy, angst, jean slander sorry–she’s the mutant who tries something on logan, some fluff at the end, soft logan, cocky logan, mission, x-men, established relationship, no y/n used, no reader description, mutant reader but no powers mentioned

The tension in Xavier’s office was thick, almost suffocating, like a storm cloud pressing down on the room. Everyone stood with rapt attention as Xavier outlined the mission, his calm, steady voice doing little to ease the weight of what was at stake. This was no routine intel-gathering run. Rumor had it that a mutant underground club was doubling as a recruitment hub for Magneto’s latest scheme. If the rumors were true, the people inside could be dangerous—either willing recruits or innocents caught in the crossfire. The team’s job was to confirm the truth without tipping their hand. Subtlety was key.

Subtlety, unfortunately, wasn’t Logan’s strong suit. And focusing, apparently, wasn’t yours.

You tried to focus—really, you did—but the heat of Logan’s shoulder brushing against yours kept pulling your attention away like a magnet tugging at metal.

It wasn’t entirely his fault—you knew that. Since you and Logan started dating, focusing on anything else has become challenging. Especially when Logan, with that cocky smirk and the gleam of mischief in his hazel eyes, seemed to delight in testing your resolve.

“I can tell you’re not listening, gorgeous,” Logan murmured, his gravelly voice low enough for only you to hear. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your pulse quicken as his arm brushed lightly against yours.

You shot him a warning look, though your hand betrayed you by slipping around his waist, pulling him just a bit closer. “I am listening,” you whispered.

Logan turned his head slightly, the stubble along his jaw catching the light. “Oh yeah?” he muttered, his tone dripping with amusement. “What did Chuck just say?”

You opened your mouth, a retort ready, but Xavier’s voice broke through before you could fire back. “You and Logan will cover the west side together. Jean and Scott, the east. Ororo will remain in position for aerial observation and backup.”

Your stomach flipped. Of course, you and Logan were paired together. How were you supposed to focus on anything when he was constantly finding ways to get under your skin—and under your dress if you weren’t careful?

Xavier continued, “The club caters to both humans and mutants, so your priority is to remain inconspicuous. Blend in. Gather intel. And for once,” his gaze lingered pointedly on Logan, “please keep things subtle.”

Logan shrugged, utterly unbothered by the implication. “Subtle’s my middle name.”

Beside him, Scott let out a snort, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah, right.”

Everyone nodded, the plan solidified and began filing out of the room. Logan lingered just long enough to lean down, his lips brushing your ear. “West side, huh? Guess we’ll be busy.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the way your cheeks flushed. “Don’t slow me down.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The mission led the team to a dimly lit part of the city where the target location—a grungy underground club—throbbed with energy. Neon signs flickered above the entrance, throwing shades of electric blue and pink across the sidewalk. The thumping bass spilled into the street, vibrating through the soles of your boots. You could already feel the tension of the place: it wasn’t just another club. The air buzzed with unspoken power as if everyone inside was waiting for something—or someone.

You tugged at the hem of your black dress, feeling exposed compared to the usual leather uniforms. The club’s dress code dictated a casual look, but “casual” for Logan apparently meant his usual jeans, a worn leather jacket, and a white shirt that clung just enough to remind you why your focus always wavered around him. He caught your eyes roaming and smirked.

“You clean up nice,” you said, though your tone was dry to keep your cool.

Logan’s smirk only deepened. “Don’t look too hard, sweetheart. We’re supposed to be blending in, not staring.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “But you love it.”

Before you could reply, Scott’s voice interrupted. “Can you two please cool it for five seconds?” His voice was already tight with irritation, the way it always got around Logan. He adjusted the cuffs of his blazer like a stressed-out principal about to scold unruly students. “We need to focus. This is a mission, not a date.”

“Relax, Boy Scout,” Logan said with a shrug, his tone casual but deliberately antagonistic. “I’m just blending in. Pretty sure flirting counts as recon in a place like this.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t,” Scott shot back, glaring.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand as Logan leaned in closer, his smirk widening. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get paired with you,” Logan murmured.

Jean stepped between them before things could escalate, her presence commanding yet calm. Her red hair shimmered faintly under the neon glow as she raised a hand. “Enough,” she said, her voice low and measured, like a scalpel cutting through the tension.

Scott bristled but backed off, “We split up here. Stick to your assignments. Keep your eyes open and your comms on. Regroup in an hour unless someone finds something first.” His jaw tightened as he turned, but not before reaching for Jean’s hand and storming off with her trailing behind him.

You sighed, the tension lingering in the air long after they disappeared into the crowd. Beside you, Logan exhaled through his nose, clearly amused. He reached for your hand, his calloused fingers rough but steady as he began weaving through the throng of bodies. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Can’t let the Boy Scout hog all the fun.”

The bass thumped through the floor, vibrating up into your chest as you let Logan lead the way. The crush of people, the flashing strobe lights, the humid press of bodies—it was all overwhelming, the kind of chaos that seeped under your skin. You tugged at the hem of your dress, wishing for the familiarity of your leather uniform, or at least the comfort of knowing where the real threats were hiding.

“You look uncomfortable,” Logan said, leaning in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His breath was warm, and damn it, the heat of him this close to you made your stomach flip.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice sharper than you intended. The noise and the crush of bodies weren’t the only things making it hard to breathe. It was him—always him. Logan had a way of turning your focus into a tangled mess, and you hated how much he knew it.

He smirked, his free hand settling lightly on your hip as he guided you toward the bar. “Sure you are. Just don’t step on my toes if we have to dance.”

You gave him a pointed look, arching a brow. “Dance? You don’t seem like the dancing type.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Guess you’ll find out, huh?”

Before you could retort, Ororo’s voice crackled through the comm in your ear, sharp and focused. “Heads up. Security’s tightening near the back. Someone might’ve tipped them off.”

The playful ease between you and Logan evaporated in an instant. You straightened, your eyes scanning the room more carefully now. The crowd still swayed to the rhythm of the music, but you spotted shadowy figures moving along the edges of the space. They were coordinated, and precise—not like usual club security. Their sharp, assessing gazes cut through the crowd, searching for something. Or someone.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, stepping closer to Logan without thinking. Your body gravitated toward his instinctively, as though the safest place in the room was next to him.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Logan tilted his head, glancing toward the figures in the distance, his hand briefly brushing your lower back before pulling away. “I’ll keep an eye on you,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. He leaned down, lips brushing your temple in a fleeting kiss that sent a jolt through you. “Try not to get us into trouble, gorgeous.”

“Try not to enjoy yourself too much,” you shot back, your words sharper than you meant them to be. He smirked but didn’t respond, disappearing into the crowd with the easy confidence of someone who could move through shadows like he belonged there.

You leaned against the bar, crossing your arms as you let your eyes roam the packed room. Scanning for anyone suspicious was easier said than done with the neon lights flashing and dancers moving like one writhing, chaotic mass. Every other face looked ordinary—until it didn’t. The line between an innocent bystander and a potential enemy blurred in a place like this.

You tried to focus, but your eyes kept drifting, scanning for a familiar silhouette. And then, through the press of bodies on the dance floor, you spotted Logan. Relief flickered through you briefly—until you saw who he was with.

Jean.

Your stomach tightened as you watched them. Jean’s red hair glimmered under the strobes, her figure elegant even amid the chaos. She stood close to Logan—too close. They were facing each other, her head tilted toward him as if they were sharing a private conversation. Your pulse quickened, though you told yourself it was the commotion in the club that caused it. Not them. Not this.

You knew their history. Everyone did. It wasn’t a secret that Logan had carried a torch for Jean for years. And though he’d insisted—again and again—that it was all in the past, the sight of them together now made your chest tighten with something sharp and bitter.

Then, you noticed him: a man near the edge of the dance floor. His eyes weren’t on the crowd—they were on Logan and Jean. He stood out against the backdrop of revelers, stiff and alert, his gaze predatory. Something about him screamed danger: the way he carried himself, the faint scar cutting across his cheek, the subtle tension in his stance. Recognition flickered in your mind—he looked like one of Magneto’s men, someone you’d seen before.

Your grip on the edge of the bar tightened as realization dawned. Jean must have noticed him, too, because she suddenly stepped closer to Logan, her hand brushing his arm. She said something, her lips moving quickly, urgently. Logan glanced toward the man, then back at Jean. His jaw clenched, but then, he nodded.

To your disbelief, Jean slid her arm around Logan’s waist, leaning into him as though they were nothing more than a couple enjoying the music. Logan didn’t resist. His hand came to rest on her back, pulling her closer, and for one agonizing moment, they looked too real.

Your stomach twisted, and you hated yourself for it. This was a mission. You knew that. It wasn’t personal, and yet it felt like a punch to the gut. The way Logan leaned down, his lips brushing Jean’s ear as he whispered something—it was a performance, you told yourself but that didn’t stop the jealousy curling hot and bitter in your chest.

You forced yourself to look away, your nails digging into your palm as you tried to focus on the mission. The man was still watching them, his expression unreadable, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong.

You couldn’t just stand there, not when the man’s sharp, calculating gaze kept flicking between Logan, Jean, and the crowd as though he was deciding on his next move. Your heart was still twisting from the sight of Logan and Jean pressed so close together, but that wasn’t what mattered right now. The man was dangerous—you could feel it in the way he stood, too poised for someone casually attending a club. He was waiting for something, and you weren’t about to let him make the first move.

Steeling yourself, you pushed off the bar and weaved through the crowd, keeping your movements casual. The bass pounded beneath your feet, the flashing lights making it harder to focus, but you never lost sight of him. He was still near the edge of the dance floor, his hand resting near his hip—too close to where you guessed he was hiding a weapon.

As you approached, you caught his eye. His gaze sharpened immediately, locking you like a predator noticing prey. You gave him a practiced, easy smile, tilting your head as though you’d wandered over for no other reason than to flirt.

“Hey,” you said, your voice light despite the way your pulse thundered in your ears. “You look like you’re not having much fun. Bad night?”

The man didn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes darted past you, likely tracking Logan and Jean over your shoulder. His jaw ticked, his face impassive but rigid, and he shifted his weight, subtly adjusting his stance.

You stepped closer, determined to draw his focus fully onto you. “I know this place can get a little crazy,” you continued, tilting your head and letting your lips curve into a faint smirk. “But I’d hate to think you came all the way here just to sulk in the corner.”

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and cold. “I suggest you walk away.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You’d expected deflection, maybe an excuse. Not this. His tone carried a weight of threat, and now you were sure—you’d been right. This guy wasn’t just anyone.

Feigning a laugh, you took another step forward. “Walk away? Come on, now. I’m just trying to make conversation.”

That’s when you saw it: the briefest flicker of movement near his side. His hand darted toward his hip, toward what you were sure was a concealed weapon.

Instinct took over. Before he could draw, you lashed out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it sharply. The motion forced him to drop the weapon—a sleek, black blade that clattered to the floor. He reacted instantly, yanking his arm free and shoving you back with surprising force. You stumbled but caught your footing just as he lunged toward you, his movements quick and deliberate.

You managed to dodge his first swing, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your veins. “Guess we’re skipping the small talk,” you muttered under your breath, shifting into a defensive stance.

His second swing came fast, but this time, you were ready. You ducked beneath it, stepping inside his guard and slamming your elbow into his ribs. He grunted, staggering back a step, but the fight wasn’t over yet.

Unfortunately, neither was your luck.

Just as you braced for his next move, a familiar voice rang out behind you—sharp, commanding, and far too loud.

“Get down!”

You barely had time to react before a blast of energy ripped past you, slamming into the man’s chest and sending him flying backward into a table. The wood splintered beneath his weight, the force of the impact leaving no question as to who had intervened.

You turned, your heart sinking as you spotted Scott standing a few feet away, his visor glowing faintly with residual energy. His expression was grim, his shoulders tense as he lowered his hand. The crowd around you froze for a split second before chaos erupted.

Screams filled the room as people scrambled toward the exits and the pulsing music abruptly cut off. Bodies pushed and shoved past you, the panicked crowd turning into a stampede. Strobe lights flickered overhead, casting the room in chaotic bursts of shadow and color.

“What the hell, Scott?” you shouted over the commotion, throwing your hands up in frustration.

Scott was already moving toward you, his face tight with determination. “He was about to kill you,” he snapped, his tone clipped. “You’re welcome.”

“I had it under control,” you shot back, though even you knew that was debatable. Still, it didn’t matter now. The damage was done.

The comm crackled to life in your ear, Ororo’s voice cutting through the noise. “What’s going on? Your cover’s blown—we’re seeing mass panic on the cameras.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, dodging a panicked clubgoer who nearly knocked you over. “Scott just blasted the guy I was questioning. Pretty sure everyone in here knows we’re not here for drinks.”

“Damn it,” Logan’s voice growled through the comm, the irritation unmistakable. “I’m on my way. Keep her safe, Summers.”

The crowd surged again, making it harder to keep your footing. Scott grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him as a group of heavily armed men burst into the room from a side entrance. Their uniforms were black and sleek, their weapons unmistakably high-tech. Magneto’s people, no doubt about it.

“We need to get out of here, now,” Scott barked, shoving you toward the nearest exit.

You hesitated, glancing back toward the dance floor where you’d last seen Logan. Panic gnawed at your chest, but Scott’s grip on your arm tightened, dragging you forward.

“Logan can handle himself,” Scott said sharply. “Our priority is getting out of here alive.”

You gritted your teeth, frustration and fear warring inside you, but you didn’t have time to argue. The mission had gone sideways, and now it was all about survival.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The jet ride back to the mansion was quiet, but the air in the cabin was heavy with unspoken tension, crackling like static electricity. Everyone was accounted for, and alive, but you couldn’t shake the pang of jealousy still twisting like a knife in your chest. Every time you closed your eyes, the image of Jean leaning into Logan on the dance floor flared back to life—her hand on his arm, his hand on her back, the way they moved in sync as if it were second nature.

It didn’t help that Scott was stealing glances at them, too. His jaw clenched and his hands fidgeted, flexing into fists and then relaxing again. For once, you couldn’t blame him. His eyes kept darting between Jean and Logan, flickering with something unspoken. Maybe it was the same ugly mix of emotions brewing inside of you.

You stayed silent the whole ride, simmering in your thoughts, trying and failing to bury the bitterness bubbling in your chest. You told yourself it was nothing. A mission. A cover. That’s all it had been. But you couldn’t ignore the sharp ache of it, the nagging voice in your head whispering that Logan and Jean had been too comfortable with each other. Too natural.

By the time the jet landed and everyone started filing out, you’d had enough. You couldn’t sit in this anymore, couldn’t let the tension keep eating away at you.

Jean was halfway across the room when the words spilled out of you, sharp and cutting before you could stop them.

“You couldn’t have done that to Scott—you know, your boyfriend, Jean?”

Your voice rang out louder than you expected, making everyone pause. Even Logan stopped mid-step, glancing back at you with a frown.

Jean turned, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way you were all over Logan on the dance floor,” you snapped, stepping toward her. The words felt like a dam breaking, everything you’d been holding back spilling out in an uncontrollable rush. “You said you were just telling him to ‘watch out’? Really? Because it looked a hell of a lot more like you were trying to grind on him!”

Jean blinked, her expression flashing from confusion to shock and then to something more defensive. “Excuse me? I was warning him about the guy watching us. It was part of the cover. I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t what?” you interrupted, your voice rising. “Weren’t leaning into him like you’ve done a hundred times before? Weren’t touching him like you used to when you thought no one was looking?”

Jean’s face fell, and you could see the hurt flash in her eyes, but your frustration burned too hot for you to stop now.

Logan’s voice cut through the rising tension like a knife, low and rough. “That’s enough.”

You turned to face him, your pulse pounding in your ears. “Is it?” you shot back, your chest tightening as you met his gaze. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Logan’s hazel eyes stayed steady, but there was a flicker of something softer and patient, even as his jaw tightened. “Yeah, it is,” he said evenly, stepping closer to you, his voice dropping low so only you could hear. “We’re not doin’ this here.”

You wanted to argue, to push back, but the weight of his hand on your arm stilled you. His touch was steady and grounding, and despite the fire still burning in your chest, you let him guide you out of the room, leaving the others behind.

He didn’t stop until you were outside in the cool night air, the mansion looming behind you like a silent witness. The faint chirping of crickets filled the space between you, but it did little to ease the knot in your chest.

Logan finally turned to face you, his expression calm but resolute. “Alright,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s get this out now.”

You crossed your arms, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “What do you want me to say, Logan? That it didn’t bother me? That seeing you and Jean like that didn’t make me feel like—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, shaking your head. “Like I didn’t matter?”

His brow furrowed, and he took a step closer. “Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “It was just a cover. You know that.”

“Do I?” you shot back, your voice quieter now but no less pointed. “Because it didn’t look like it.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looked almost... unsure. Vulnerable, even. It wasn’t a look you were used to seeing on him, and it made you hesitate.

“You really think I’d do that to you?” he asked, his tone quieter now, almost disbelieving. “After everything?”

You dropped your gaze, the anger in your chest cooling just enough for guilt to creep in around the edges. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... her. You and her. You have a history, Logan.”

He let out a breath, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of space between you. His hand brushed against your arm, his touch gentle but insistent, as he needed you to understand. “Yeah, we got history,” he said, his voice steady, “but that’s all it is—history. What we had, it’s done. Been done. You’re the one I’m with now. You’re the one I want to be with.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it harder to hold onto the jealousy still simmering inside you. “Then why did it look so... easy for you two?”

“Because I know how to act,” Logan replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Figured I had to sell it, right? Thought that was the job.” He tilted his head, his smirk fading into something softer. “But don’t get it twisted. That’s all it was—an act. You’re the real deal.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the knot in your chest loosening little by little. The way he looked at you—steady, unwavering—left no room for doubt. You hated how easily he could disarm you, but at this moment, you were grateful for it.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your arms uncrossing as you leaned into him. “You’re lucky you’re good with words,” you muttered, your voice softer now, teasing.

Logan chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “Not words, sweetheart. Just the truth.”

And for the first time that night, the tension in your chest eased completely.

#logan howlett #wolverine #x men logan #x men wolverine #james logan howlett #marvel #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #x men movies #x men comics #jean grey #scott summers #logan x reader #logan x fem you #logan x fem!reader

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starlight-write · 9 months ago

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lee!Vox and ler!Alastor fic??? 🤔🤔

Stalker

Requests: Open

Summary: Vox's little obsession with stalking his nemesis lands him into a bit of trouble.

Pairings: Lee!Vox, Ler!Alastor (Mommy Issues)

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing

Words: 1666

——————————————————————————————

It was a common understanding for most of Hell’s residents that you’d have to either be brave or stupid to be caught on the streets of Hell in the middle of the night, especially alone. Unless of course you were powerful enough to be considered a threat yourself.

Fortunately, our favorite TV Overlord was a perfect mix of powerful, brave, and stupid.

Vox whistled to himself as he walked out the doors of the antique shop, having just planted a shit load of spyware in case that bastard tried to interrupt another one of his broadcasts.

Velvette had given him an earful that afternoon going on about how he was "obsessed" and "borderline psychotic" referring to his recent attempts at gathering intel (not stalking thank you very much) on his enemy.

"He's a threat to our image! The two of you should be thanking me!"

Their little argument sparked when Velvette noticed the pathetic little man had spent a concerning amount of time in front of his gigantic screen wall. Having sent multiple drones that week to spy on the hotel and its residents.

While he still hadn't found any useful information on his nemesis, just knowing where that bastard was at all times was enough to calm his nerves.

Still not stalking.

The Overlord strolled down the sidewalk with his face buried into his phone checking for updates from the drones.

He noticed one of them was offline, only returning a black screen. Vox swiped furiously on the device, heart racing as he tried to figure out what the FUCK was going on?!

Vox picked up his pace a little bit, his screen buried in the other screen, not at all aware of his surroundings.

The man was to consumed by his panic to realize he was being followed before it was too late.

Vox screamed when he felt someone snatch his arms before dragging the man into the dark alleyway he was just about to pass by.

The creep managed to drag him a good distance down the alley before he came out of his shock enough to fight back.

The man twisted, turned, kicked, punched but only managed to free himself once he let off a good amount of electricity. However, his attacker recovered quickly and a fight broke between the two.

Thankfully not a long one. Soon enough, four tendrils emerged from the wall and wrapped around each of the man's limbs before yanking his body and pinning it to the wall.

Vox grunted and emitted more of his electrical shocks before realizing these things were immune. The tendrils had him pinned several inches off the ground with both arm on each side of his screen. He pulled and tugged at the bonds before realizing how monumentally screwed he was.

An annoyed sigh prompted him to look up at his attacker. Only the small light from his screen allowing him to identify the other.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

Alastor stalked towards the other, his menacing smile never faltered as he stared daggers into the trapped man.

The demon stopped mere centimeters away from Vox's face before delivering a quick punch to the wall right next to the other's screen causing the brick to crumble.

"Were you a fucking formula baby or some shit?!" Alastor hissed, stepping away slightly. "Did your mother deprive you of attention that bad that you have go around seeking it from everyone else?!" The demon snarled, seemingly pulling Vox's missing drone out of nowhere as he threw it in front of his feet.

"That's besides the point-" He said. "I MEAN-!"

Alastor snatched the other man's tie forcing their faces together again. "What exactly were you hoping to find, hm? Do tell because I'm dying to know what intel could possibly be valuable enough for you to get your soul torn to shreds over."

Vox smiled down at his captor, completely unfazed by the threat. "HA! You don't scare me, Alastor. Besides, there's nothing in that crappy hotel that was worth seeing anyways. All I saw was shitty improv skits and a bunch of half-assed attempts at redemption. The whole place is one big-fat-fucking-joke, which makes sense considering your clown ass is running the show."

Alastor felt his eye twitch but released his hold on the other's tie, causing his neck to snap up and bang his head on the brick wall.

"That mouth of yours is going to be the death of you, my friend."

Vox shook his head, trying to get his bearings once more. "Don't call me that. And let me go already, I'm not telling you anything."

"What else is there to tell?" Alastor asked, picking up the discarded drone. "You've already proven yourself to be quite desperate for my attention, I figured the best way to punish you for this little stunt is by giving you exactly what you want." Alastor stared the demon down as he crushed the drone with his bare hands.

Vox laughed. "Oh, I'm soooo scared! What are you gonna do? Bore me to death with your little- AAH!" Vox screamed when he felt the other's hands grab his waist.

"Not exactly." The demon laughed.

Oh shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT. NO-!

A million memories suddenly flooded Vox's mind. Memories of laughing his guts out under the other demon. Memories of their their little 'fights' that occurred when one or both of them were bored, which Vox always seemed to lose. Memories of Alastor completely losing his patience and tickling Vox mercilessly until he was in tears.

Alastor smiled, relishing in the sight of that cocky smirk being wiped off his rivals face. The demon snickered as he tightened his grip around the other's waist. "Oh Vox, did you really think I would forget? You've begged for my attention countless times like this before, remember? I know exactly how to shut that big mouth of yours~"

Vox started to squirm, the hands weren't even moving yet but just the thought of it sent tingles through the demon's skin.

"Wait- hehA!- Wahait! th-This is sihilly. C'mon, surely yohohou can thinkik of a better wahahay to- AAAHH!" Vox shouted as those hands began slowly pinching up and down his sides.

Alastor chuckled, softly raking his fingers along the other's sides. "I don't think so, old pal. You've had this coming for a long time now."

Vox shook his head as much as he could, given what little space he had. Failing to suppress his giggles as he tugged furiously at his restraints.

"fuhuhuhuck- no- no plehehehease! wahahahahahait- wahahait a minute!" Quiet, panicked giggles were forced from his throat. Remembering how unbearable the softer tickles proved to be, Vox squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth but still couldn't hope to block out the unbearable tingling sensation.

"Begging already?" Alastor teased. "That's no fun. You know we're just getting started right?~"

Vox cursed at the teasing. Unintentionally emitting electric sparks due to his flustered state. Alastor remembered how easy it was for the man to overheat and took the teasing down a notch. Instead switching tactics and opting to scribble viciously under his arms.

Vox blue-screened for a split second before letting out a high pitch squeal. Full on cackling at this point while he desperately tried to pull his arms down.

"AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!- HOLD ON- HOLD OHOHOHON!!! WAHAHAHIT AHAHAHALASTAAAAA- PLEHEHEHEAHAHA-"

Alastor had that self-satisfied smile he always wore whenever he got what he wanted. Vox hated that smile.

"Oh come now Vox~ You're well on your way to be one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell! Surely this can't be all it takes to break you~"

Vox's screen began to glitch and the whirring of the fans became audible as the man began to overheat.

Oh, right. Teasing is a no-go if we want to continue.

Alastor sighed. Well, if talking was too much for Vox, maybe he'd prefer something else instead~

The hands suddenly removed themselves from underneath Vox's arms and moved to either side of his head. The Overlord was to busy cooling down and catching his breath to realize that the other was positioning his face at the crook of his neck.

The feeling of sharp teeth gently nibbling at his neck was enough to snap him back to reality and into another hysterical fit.

"nononONO!- WAHA-AAAIIEEE- WAHAHAAAAA- AHAHAHAHA!!"

Vox cackled and screamed at the intense feeling. Fighting with everything he had to free himself from his bonds, panic flooded his systems at the feeling of being hopelessly trapped and completely at the other's mercy.

To which, of course, Alastor had none.

The demon could feel the heat radiating from the TV demon's systems and knew the poor, pathetic man didn't have much fight left in him.

Deciding to go for the kill, Alastor repositioned his hands at the other's hips and began squeezing rapidly while also blowing a few raspberries at his neck for good measure.

Yeah, Vox literally didn't last half a second.

No screaming. No cackling. No fighting. The demon's screen just glitched brutally before going black and his body instantly went limp.

Alastor pulled back and looked at his victim for a moment.

"Well, shit." He sighed.

He'll admit, he'd been itching to do that again for some time now but it seems he got carried away and the fun got cut short.

Oh well. He was sure there would be a next time.

Alastor grabbed the other's phone and released his body, letting it drop gracelessly on the floor of the alleyway.

Charlie had taught him the basics of how to work one of these things and thankfully Vox was cocky enough to not enable a password on his device.

Assuming the contact name "Doll-Faced Bitch" was one of his colleagues, he sent a photo of Vox's limp body as well as the location before tossing the phone away and heading back to the hotel.

Someday, he'll learn not to mess with The Radio Demon.

But hopefully not anytime soon.

#sfw tickling community #hazbin hotel tickle #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickling #hazbin hotel tickles #lee!vox #ler!alastor #i can't sleep and it's affecting my work #HELP #my stuff #hazbin tickles #sfw tickling

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