#i could gather intel on both sides

[materia-girl88]

Kiss and Make Up

18+, minors dni

Graphic smut ahead

the aftermath of a fight between you and Bucky ;)

i'm thinking of doing a few final fantasy and red dead redemption 2 one shots as well :) lmk what you think!

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The bed was cold.

You rolled over onto your side, thick comforter pulled up to your chin as you curled up. The clock read 1:18am and you sighed. There was a small picture frame by the clock with a photo of you and Bucky from when you first moved in, smiling at each other with his arms around your waist as your palms rested on his chest.

Neither of you remembered what the argument was really about.

Bucky had come home earlier that evening after a meeting with Sam and Joaquin about a mission they had been gathering intel on and he was stressed.

You had tried to get him to talk about it but he had refused, snapping a "Just drop it" at you.

One thing led to another and one shouting match later, he was in the living room sleeping on the couch while you were alone in your king sized bed, eyes wide open, just wishing he was there to keep you warm.

Another 15 minutes passed before you couldn't take it anymore and you stood, blanket wrapped around you shoulders, and padded your way from the bedroom out to the living room where you could see Bucky laying on the couch staring up at the ceiling.

"Bucky," you called softly, slowly making your way to him.

His head turned, eyes becoming soft and a bit sorrowful at the sight of you. He let out a breath before he opened his arms to you with a quit "Come here, angel."

Your lip quivered a bit as you made your way to him, leaning down to lay on top of him with your legs tangling and your chin propping onto his chest.

"I couldn't sleep. I don't like laying in there without you," you told him, fingers clutching into his t-shirt as you shifted.

All you wore was one of his black t-shirts with a pair of dark blue panties, and you felt his warmth seep through to you as you both gazed in each other's eyes.

He let out a sigh, one arm coming to rest on the dip of your spine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin while the other came up to brush your hair back from your eyes.

"I don't like it either. I'm sorry for snapping at you, baby. It was a tough day and I took it out on you instead of speaking to you," he said, voice soft.

You leaned your head to rest in his palm, giving him a soft smile.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too for not respecting that you weren't ready to talk. I shouldn't have pushed it," you told him.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft peck once, twice, a third time.

On the third kiss, your lips stayed locked and you could taste the minty freshness of his toothpaste.

You sat up a bit to reach him better, sliding your legs to straddle his boxer covered hips while his hands slid to your waist.

A shudder ran through you at the coldness of his metal hand, the movement causing you to shift a bit on top of him.

Bucky's tongue slowly ran across your bottom lip and you quickly granted him access with a whimper as your tongues tangled together.

It was instinct that led you to slowly begin rolling your hips against his and he let out a grunt, hips jolting as he began to harden.

You pulled away for a moment to look at him with a small smile, "Take me to our bed, Bucky."

He didn't hesitate in giving you a grin with a "Yes, ma'am" before throwing the blanket covering you both to the floor as he stood with your arms and legs locked around him.

He made his way down the hall like a man on a mission. Once in your room, he threw you on the bed causing you to land with a squeal and a bounce, laughing as he pulled his t-shirt over his head from behind.

You went to do the same but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

"Leave it, doll," he said a bit breathlessly as his eyes roamed over you. "I wanna fuck you in my shirt. Just push it up enough to show me those pretty tits"

You flushed but obeyed, laying back and pushing the shirt up to above your breasts as you gazed up at him.

Bucky loved your body, especially your breasts, and never wasted any time in worshipping them.

Now, for example, he was slowly making his way up the bed towards you like a predator after his prey.

His hands came to rest on your knees where they were bent and he spread them apart, opening your thighs to him as he continued to make his way upwards.

Soon he was eye level with your chest and he didn't waste a moment before leaning in to suck a pert nipple into his mouth, his blue eyes locked onto you.

"Oh.." you gasped, thighs clenching around his hips as one of your hands came to fist in his hair. He knew how sensitive your nipples were and he never passed up a chance to get you squirming.

He gave you a sneaky grin around it before nipping at it with his teeth.

The jolt of pleasure it brought ran from your reddened nipple down to the apex of your thighs and your clit throbbed.

He continued the torture until your breasts were red and sensitive with a large love bite on your sternum between them.

You were slowly working your hips, trying to grind with his as much as possible. Your panties were soaking wet and all you wanted was for him to touch you.

"Bucky," you whined, and reached to grab where his hand was resting on your thigh,"Please."

You guided the hand upward to the damp fabric and saw as his eyes darkened at the feeling.

His hand moved to cup you fully and he ground his palm against you, your jaw dropping open.

"You're such a good fuckin girl" He growled, hand speeding up with the grinding until you couldn't take it.

You were on the edge, shaking like a crazy until Bucky suddenly paused.

Your breaths were heavy as you came down, giving him a frustrated look as your ruined orgasm.

He laughed before saying "Patience," and sat up, hands coming to the waistband of your panties.

With a jerk of his metal hand and a squeak from you, the fabric ripped away and all you could see was a flash of blue as he threw them over his shoulder.

You were ready to berate him but you were stopped when he dived in, lips wrapping around your clit to give a harsh suck as a finger came to your entrance to tease.

"Ohmygod," you whimpered, head leaning back as you arched you spine.

Bucky was good at most things he did whether it be fighting, training or really anything else.

But he was a god at eating pussy.

He feasted on you like you were a glass of water and he was a parched man in the desert.

His finger toyed at the rim of your entrance before sinking in, immediately on the search for that one spot within you that got you every time.

You let out a yelp when he found it, rubbing against it with his finger tip causing you to quiver.

"Please, please, please, baby," you begged, tears in your eyes as he continued his torture.

You could feel the orgasm building again and this time he let you have it, his head bobbing as he sucked at your hard clit.

A yell left you as you came and you clamped down on his finger that was still thrusting into you.

You were still shaking with the aftershocks of it when he gave you one last lick and pulled away.

He grinned down at you, his hair in his eyes and his lips and chin wet.

His hand came from between your thighs to show you the wetness that covered it and he used the other one to work his boxers down, kicking them to the side.

He grasped his hard cock with his wet hand, using your cum to lubricate himself and holy fuck was it hot.

"Bucky, c'mon," you whined as he scrambled into place, his dick coming to rest between the lips of your pussy.

"What is it, doll?" he asked teasingly as he began to grind the head of his dick against you, letting it slide against your oversensitive clit. Your hips jolted with every brush, "What do you need?"

You continued to squirm underneath him and glared up at him.

"I need you to fuck me." you said firmly, causing him to laugh at your neediness.

"Your wish is my command," he said before notching himself at your entrance.

You both let out a breath of relief as he slid inside, bare skin to bare skin.

As his hips began to move your hands came under his arms to rest on his back and he let out a groan as your nails dug into the skin on his back, raking red lines down the length of it.

"You feel so fuckin good. I could live in you forever," Bucky ground our, one hand holding himself up while the other grasped at the headboard.

You were letting out soft gasps with each thrust he gave you and you knew your hips would be sore from taking the impact of how hard he was taking you, but you loved it. You loved when you would bruise and he would spend time after trailing kisses over the skin.

His pelvis was slapping your clit with each thrust and before long you felt the heat rise in you again, your body beginning to quiver as your orgasm rose.

"Bucky, I'm close baby, please," you told him with a strained voice, grabbing for his hand that was holding the headboard and bringing it between you, "Please touch me."

Now that the headboard was no longer being held you could heard the wood of it smacking the wall and you only hoped that his super soldier strength wouldn't cause it to damage the walls again.

It's happened before.

He brought his fingers to your lips for you to suck on before trailing them down to your hard bud, rubbing circles into it roughly and causing you to cry out.

Your pussy tightened around him as your orgasm overtook you, your spine arching and your nails digging into his shoulders.

He let out a groan at the feeling of you tightening around him, his balls drawing up, and before long he too released.

You hummed in contentedness as you felt him spurt within you, warmth filling you.

He slid out once he was soft, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips before moving to lay beside you.

You moved to lay on his chest, his arms around you as you traced at the lines of his abs.

"I hate fighting with you, angel. But if this is the result, we may have to more often," he joked, causing you to laugh.

Before long, the both of you were asleep in each other's arms, legs entwined once more where you belonged.

[clockwayswrites]

Fresh Birb! Part 32

masterpost

“Thanks for the excuse to get some fresh air,” Danny said. He sounded grateful enough that Jason felt a little bad for using the ‘stroll around the yard’ as an way to gather some intel.

“Hey, trust me, I get how overwhelming the manor can get,” Jason said, “and there are a lot of us in house right now. It’s easier in small doses for sure.”

“I could see that,” Danny agreed. “But there’s also something nice about the full house. It’s all very… alive feeling.”

The words were more melancholy than they should be. They were more like how Jason, who knew the feeling of death all too well, might say them. It brought troubling thoughts to mind.

“Yeah, that can be nice about it. Sure is quieter if I’m not here or at Roy’s,” Jason agreed after maybe too long a moment.

“Is Roy that much more talkative when it’s just the two of you?”

“Oh, no. Well, yeah, but it’s more about his little girl, Lian. She’s three and a half and an absolute handful most days. She’s also at that age where she’s pretty much narrating her own life in half understandable babble so there’s just a lot of constant noise.”

Danny chuckled. “I bet. Stayed with a friend for a bit when I was between jobs and stuck there for a few months by a non-complete clause. Her one kid was that age at the time and the oldest five. I didn’t know just how much everything there was when having kids that age. It made me actually feel a little sorry for my parents.”

“You the youngest, oldest, or middle?”

“Youngest. I’ve got one older sister, Jasmine,” Danny said. “You could sorta say there’s a half a sibling too. I basically grew up with my best friend and there were some weeks I spent more time at his house than ours.”

“That close to him?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. That and it was easier, sometimes, to not be at home.”

“Oh.”

That implied some unfortunate things that Jason hadn’t quite been expecting. Danny seemed pretty well adjusted. He was even good at handling Damian, but Jason supposed that maybe part of that was because Danny had been through his own issues.

Danny just shrugged. “I have a life long friend out of it. We don’t see each other in person much these days since we’re on other sides of the country, but we still talk plenty.”

Jason gave a soft hum and, a beat later, asked, “What made you end up in Gotham of all places?”

“Wayne Enterprises, actually,” Danny said. “The rep in the industry as place to work is unparalleled really, especially for what I want to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Help people,” Danny said, honestly and with a crooked little smile. “Which I know sounds cheesy, but I really wanted to create things that help people. It’s not like I mind making a better cellphone battery or anything, but it’s nice to know that I get to work on things that help not just with the little, everyday issues but also the big, life changing ones. The fact that those things get to help the city I live in too is a real plus.”

“Gotham has a way of getting to you like that,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” Danny replied softly, gaze in the direction of the Gotham sky line.

And then a scream split the air.

Not a human scream, thankfully, but a repeated screech that had both of them starting and looking around for the source. The screech turned to a warbling clucking as Jerry emerged from behind the landscaping. His tail was high and spread, his wing tips brushed the ground, and he was looking almost shockingly colorful.

“A turkey?”

“Damian’s.”

“Damian has a turkey,” Danny said slowly.

“And a cow,” Jason said. “Cat, dog, a few snakes. He tried to keep a rat but Alfred stopped that pretty quickly.”

Danny rubbed at his temple. “This is why he knew how to take care of wings, isn’t it?”

Jason tried not to smile. “That came up, huh?”

“He’s been sending Bruce information about it,” Danny answered.

Jerry made another loud warble and struck what Jason could only describe as a pose.

“So… does he do this often?”

“His name is Jerry, and nope,” Jason said and pulled out his phone.

Jerry strutted closer to Danny, tail feathers shaking.

“Oh… oh,” Danny said with the tone of someone for who horrible realization was dawning. “Can you, ah, talk him down?”

“I’m afraid I’m morally obligated to film this,” Jason said somberly. He couldn’t hold back his smirk any longer.

Danny shot him a withering look and started to back up towards the Manor. “Really.”

“Really. Good luck.”

“Well, fuck,” Danny said and then took off running.

Jerry followed at top speed with a scream.

Jason sent the video to Bruce. ‘You have competition.’

[peanutpinet]

Soft for You - Sylus x Fem Reader

Prompt: “Let me kiss it better”

A/N: yes, I’ve fallen into this rabbit hole and all because of Sylus. There’s just something about white haired men with red eyes that’s 190cm. Hates everyone but you T^T I’m such a sucker for these characters and it doesn’t help that I’m on my period so I decided to make a lil one shot of how Sylus would react if you’re on your period and wanting to cuddle but he was in an important meeting

Warning: None, just fluff (not proofread, sorry, was so into writing this)

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

“Miss, I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb the boss right now” Luke mentioned, trying to stop you from walking further down the hall

“Yeah, he’s in a meeting right now. And the meeting, well, it’s not really going that well” Kieran added on. “Some of the low workers were trying to steal his weapons and sell them off to a higher bidding at Linkon because we heard that Linkon is currently trying to find ways to get more intel regarding the boss”

You knew that Linkon was constantly trying to uncover the mysterious Onychinus’ leader. Though they knew his name, they couldn’t find anything regarding what he looked like or any other information about him. That’s why Linkon is willing to pay a hefty amount to those who have been associated with him to gather any sort of intel. But you could care less about what political issue was going on between Linkon and Onychinus. What you cared about was that you were in pain because of your period and you wanted to cuddle with Sylus because somehow, he always helped ease your pain.

Not caring about the twins’ warning, you managed to drag yourself all the way in front of Sylus’ meeting room where you could clearly hear his deep voice echoing along with several other voices. It sounded like the meeting had just begun and you suddenly contemplated on going in and disturbing Sylus just to tend to your pain.

However, on the other side of the door, Sylus already knew that you were in front of the door along with Luke and Kieran since he could see through Mephisto’s eyes with his aether core. Though Sylus wouldn’t mind you coming in, he wanted you to come to him first instead of jumping to conclusion that you were actually looking for him.

He learnt that from past incidents where you were actually looking for Luke and Kieran but Sylus jumped into conclusions and thought you were looking for him.

Right as Sylus was about to start the meeting, he could hear both Luke and Kieran’s frantic voices calling out to you. Without uttering a word, Sylus got up but not before making sure the men in the room stay put in their designated chairs. “None of you get up from the chair or I’ll rip your legs apart from your whole body”

After his calm threat, Sylus went to the door and opened it to find you on the ground with both Luke and Kieran holding onto you. When the twins looked up at their boss, the colour from their faces were slowly drained. “B-boss” the twins managed to utter out as Sylus looked at your weak state, basically trying to hold yourself up with the help of the twins.

Without saying anything, Sylus crouched down and lifted you up in his arms and practically carried you into the meeting room where all the other men in the room were staring.

“U-uh boss? We can bring her back to her room and…” the twins didn’t get to finish their sentences as Sylus used his evol to close and lock the door

To say the men in the room were shock was an understatement because who would have thought that the Onychinus leader could be so gentle towards anyone yet here he was sitting in his chair, further away from the others with you on his lap.

“S-sylus?” you uttered, looking up to see your boyfriend looking at you with soft eyes

“You alright, sweetie? I heard you from in here. You looked like you were going to pass out in the twins’ arms. What happened, sweetie? Did someone hurt you?” Sylus asked, his eyes were searching through your entire body for any wounds but you shook your head and leaned on his chest, wrapping your small arms around his waist

“No. It’s that time of the month. It’s the first day and I don’t know why but it’s painful this time” you whined and Sylus couldn’t help but coo at your vulnerable state that he brought you closer to his chest (if that was even possible with how close the two of you were).

“Shhh, it’s alright sweetie. I’m here” Sylus kissed the top of your head as you hummed in satisfaction. “Sleep sweetie, I’ll be here when you wake up, hmm? I’ll try to keep the meeting short and quick for you” Sylus mentioned as he lulled you to sleep

As he stroked your head like a kitten, Sylus the softie was gone as his eyes looked through the entire room with a cold, sharp gaze that if looks could kill, everyone in the room would be dead by now. “Now, where were we? Ah, right. Where’s my share in the sales, gentlemen? Or did you think that you could fool me that easily by selling my weapons at a higher price by giving away some information about me?”

***

By the end of the meeting, there was practically no one in the room as Sylus dismissed them all into thin air since he needed to be quick.

Sylus almost cursed at himself for almost going too far with the lowlife men in the room until he remembered that you were practically sleeping in his arms.

Taking a deep breath, Sylus went back to look at your sleeping figure, stroking your head as he kissed your forehead before teleporting both you and him back to the master bedroom where Sylus laid you on the bed.

Leaving you to sleep, Sylus decided to shower and cook up something quick and easy for dinner which was steak and creamy mushroom soup to help ease your pain.

In the midst of finishing his cooking, he heard soft footsteps and a yawn slowly getting louder which he knew that it had to be you. Turning around, Sylus saw your now awaken figure sitting by the counter where Sylus was just behind of.

“Here you go, sweetie” Sylus mentioned, placing down a plate of steak with the mushroom soup he made in front of your sleeping figure

“Thank you, Sy. Am sorry I interrupted your meeting” you yawned, drinking some of the soup that he made while Sylus decided to eat across from you

“It was nothing, sweetie. I’ve mentioned it before. If you ever need me, just come to me. No matter where I am, who am I with, or what time of the day it is. I’ll always be here for you” Sylus mentioned, caressing your cheek whilst wiping the excess soup at the corner of your lips

“But what would those men do now they’ve seen your soft side?” you asked, holding his hand that was on your cheek

“They’re none of your concern. Besides, they won’t be able to spread anymore information anymore” Sylus smirked, making you roll your eyes. “You and your evol”

Chuckling at your behaviour, Sylus decided to feed you the dinner he made. “Are you still in pain?” he asked

Thinking about it for a second, you decided to tease him. “A bit. Mainly because you only kissed my head when the pain I’m feeling is at my stomach”

Shaking his head, Sylus went around the counter and cupped your jaw, making you look at his tall figure. “Is that so? Then let me kiss it better”

[inseobts]

Undercover Lovers

zoro x gn!reader

while waiting for luffy and the others to return from whole cake island, you and the rest of the crew are forced to go undercover in wano, where your and zoro's cover as a loving couple quickly gets complicated.

PART 2

words count: 1.2k

tags: wci and wano spoilers, fake dating, romance, soft zoro

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You and Zoro stand in the shadows of the misty Wano streets, hidden in plain sight. The night is thick with tension, and the smell of the night air is saturated with the scents of food and unfamiliar spices.

“Alright” Zoro mutters under his breath, his gaze darting around. “This mission is simple. We blend in, gather intel, and keep a low profile. No trouble.”

You glance at him skeptically “Simple? Nothing here is simple, Zoro. Especially when we have to pretend to be a couple...because I don't know if you looked at yourself”

Zoro, ever stoic, adjusts the sword at his side “It’s just an act. Play the role and we’ll be fine.”

You don't know who has this brilliant idea but you're hating them all.

You scoff “That’s what you think. I don’t think you fully understand what it means to pretend to be someone’s lover.”

He grins faintly “I think I do. You make it sound like I'll be terrible at this.”

The two of you exchange a glance, the awkwardness palpable. You had to assume this would happen, but the idea of him being your pretend lover makes your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t expect. You’re both meant to lay low while Luffy, Nami, Chopper, and Brook are rescuing Sanji on Whole Cake Island. But you and Zoro are left behind, needing to keep the rest of the Straw Hats safe while undercover.

“Now, let’s go” Zoro commands, the stoic warrior in him taking over. “Remember, just act natural.”

You and Zoro enter a local tavern in the heart of the capital. The noise from the patrons fills the room, but everything about this place feels off, like a hidden danger lies in the air. As soon as the door swings open, all eyes turn to you, and the tavern goes silent.

The bartender raises an eyebrow “What’s this? A foreign couple?”

You force a smile and link your arm with Zoro’s, making sure your posture looks casual and affectionate “Yes, we’re just here to enjoy the local food and drink” you say, your voice smooth.

Zoro stands beside you, towering and quiet, his gaze scanning the room. His posture is stiff, uncomfortable, and it’s clear that he’s not used to playing the role of someone’s lover.

“You’re an odd couple,” the bartender says, a smug smirk on his face “The woman seems more… lively. And you...” he eyes Zoro, “look like a man who could care less.”

Zoro barely glances at the bartender “I’ll take some sake.”

The bartender nods, but there’s a smirk on his face “Of course. For you two lovers, the first round’s on the house.”

You exchange a look with Zoro, both of you realizing that staying in character would be harder than it seemed. As the drinks arrive, you take one and drink it slowly, trying to hide the tension in your shoulders.

As days pass, the two of you work together to gather information, keeping up the act as a loving couple. But things become more complicated when one young local guy, Miyamoto, starts showing more interest in you than you’re comfortable with.

You’re sitting in a quiet corner of the town square, Zoro casually sitting by your side, when Miyamoto approaches with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Ah, y/n” he says smoothly “I didn’t expect to see you here. Care for a walk?” His eyes flicker toward Zoro before returning to you “I can show you some of the best views in the town. Perhaps Zoro doesn’t mind… after all, I’m sure he’s busy with his… training.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his boldness. You glance at Zoro, but to your surprise, he’s sitting there, arms crossed, his usual indifferent expression masking any emotions.

“Zoro’s fine” you say quickly, trying to shut down Miyamoto’s advances “We’re fine here. And besides, I’m not one to leave my loving companion behind.”

Miyamoto chuckles, though the sound is more mocking than playful. “Loving? You don’t have to pretend, you know. I’m sure Zoro would be fine with me taking care of you for the evening”

This is making you mad, not just his advances but also Zoro sitting them like nothing was happening, not even caring to look over you and notice the uncomfortable air around you.

You clench your fists and you're about to storm out of there until Zoro finally turns his gaze toward Miyamoto, narrowing his eyes. His usually passive attitude shifts, and there’s an unmistakable tension in the air “You’re making a mistake if you think I won’t mind and I would let you”

You watch the exchange carefully, feeling the air grow thick with unspoken words. Miyamoto takes a step back, and Zoro’s eyes briefly meet yours, the unease in his gaze not going unnoticed.

It’s late into the evening. You and Zoro are once again walking through the dimly lit streets of Wano, the mission nearing its end. The tension from Miyamoto’s advances still hangs in the air, and for the first time, Zoro seems a little different.

“You’re quiet” he remarks, glancing at you “You looks upset since that last meeting with Miyamoto, are you?”

You look at him briefly "pretty much yeah... I was feeling uncomfortable and yet you waited that long to even say something"

"I knew you could handle it alone"

"Well... I actually couldn't"

He suddenly stops walking. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. You can feel the weight of unspoken words pressing between you.

Then, with a sigh, he finally speaks.

"For the record, I didn’t like it either" Zoro mutters, voice quieter than usual.

You blink at him, caught off guard "What?"

His gaze flickers to the side, as if reluctant to say more "That bastard...Miyamoto. The way he looked at you, the way he talked to you." His grip on his sword tightens. "It pissed me off... but if I did something we would have been in bif trouble"

After a pause he continues, “I didn’t like the way he looked at you” Zoro says, his voice unexpectedly serious.

Your heart stutters in your chest, unsure of whether you’re hearing things “What?”

Zoro glances at you, a slight frown tugging at his lips “I told you. I actually didn’t like the way he was talking to you. He was crossing the line”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest, unsure whether it’s the alcohol or something else making your heart beat faster “Zoro…” you start, but your words fail you.

“Forget it” he says gruffly, looking away as if the conversation never happened. But there’s something different in the way he speaks, something real this time.

You pause, staring at him. Could it be that… the act was becoming more than just a mission? Was Zoro feeling the same as you were?

“Zoro” you start again, but before you can say anything more, he steps forward, closing the gap between you two. His hand touches yours, almost like it’s an accident, but when he doesn’t pull it away, you realize it’s not.

The moment stretches on, and you can feel the tension dissipate into something new.

Without thinking, you lean into him “Maybe this act wasn’t so bad after all.”

Zoro stares down at you, his eyes flickering with something indecipherable “Maybe not” he replies, voice low and barely above a whisper.

He takes your hand in a better and firm way now and start walking again, hand in hand.

You smile at him, a small blush on his cheeks, trying to avoid your eyes. And for the first time, you wonder if the lines between the pretend lovers and real feelings are starting to blur.

[vvifeys]

This is my first time ordering here. AAAAAHHH It took me a while to gather up the courage.

I want one from the time Violet was in prison. I totally imagine Vi having her first experiences with the woman who did her tattoos (tattoo artist), with her being the only person Vi trusts in prison and more experienced then our fighter. 🫦👀

OOOHH I'm embarrassed now 🙈🙈 Me feel a teenager again

new to this.

sub!vi x dom!reader. tw: smut. fingering. vi is inexperienced. light degradation. praise. men dni! a/n: AWW HI THERE!! i'm glad that you got the courage to ask me for this, because i love this idea so much!! fair warning, i have a kindergarteners level knowledge about prisons, but i know that prisoners typically have cellmates so you guys are cellmates! i'm following a more real life logic rather than arcane 😅 i apologize if this is inaccurate in any way, thank you for this again, anon~

vi was laying on her side in her bed– if you could even call it that. the mattress was so thin it barely covered the wood it was laying on. uncomfortable, but she'd gotten used to it. used to laying on her side staring at your pretty face. you were the thing that made this prison bearable.

you were the resident tattoo artist. most of the inmates in stillwater that had tattoos (vi included) had gone under your steady hand to get them. your work was incredible, and it earned you lots of favors. intel, extra food, cigars even– but you always declined. you had given up on keeping score long ago, not too long after being thrown in here.

thrown in here with... the prettiest girl you'd ever seen. honestly, you didn't understand how such a sweet girl could commit a crime heinous enough to be tossed into a place as horrid as this. you very quickly learned, however, that it was false imprisonment. it wasn't easy, but you'd managed to grow close to your pink haired cellmate, and you'd become quite fond of her. she came to you for all three tattoos she wanted, and thanked you endlessly for the incredible work.

being fond of her was a crime in itself, though. you found yourself staring at her more often than you should've, and you caught her staring back at you more often than not. your gaze often traveled down to her arms, her hands, those thighs... you'd fallen asleep many times with thoughts of her in your head. her constantly getting into fights didn't help– she'd be returned to your shared cell with a bloody nose or a black eye, and you'd take care of her, as always.

tending to her wounds just led to more longing. you hadn't realized how badly you'd been yearning for her until she'd gotten a particularly nasty fork wound on her thigh. she was sitting there in boxers while you made sure to clean the bleeding holes to the best of your abilities. that was months ago, but you still remember the feeling of her eyes on you, the way your stomach flipped at every little gasp or twitch from her, and the way your eyes kept drifting just a little further upward.

months later, here you are in your current predicament. you're staring at her from across the room, both of you holding eye contact. your heart is beating faster than usual. you'd both just gotten done eating, and now it was lights out. there were a couple dim lights on in the hallway, the shadows making vi's face look even softer than it usually did. there was an unspoken tension, and you knew she felt it too if the way she was looking at you like she wanted to kiss you was any indication.

"violet, you want something. i know that look." you state, propping yourself up on your elbow.

"i- hey! i don't like how you know me that well. i just... i've been thinking." vi sighs, you can immediately tell something is wrong. she sat up, but she's not looking you in the face anymore.

"about?" you prompted after a few minutes of silence. vi was obviously contemplating something, and it was making you anxious.

"you? us? i don't know. just... there's something between us, and i know you feel it too." her eyes flicked up to yours, then down to the bedsheet a couple times.

you didn't even speak. you got up, walking over to sit down beside her and grab her hand. vi turned to look at your entwined hands, giving a light squeeze before meeting your eyes. you leaned in, mouth close to her ear.

"do you want this?" you ask, voice hardly louder than a whisper. your free hand moved to rest on her thigh.

"want w- oh. i've never... i'm new to this." vi hesitated, nervous to say it out loud. she swallowed so hard, you swore you could hear it.

"hey, hey, that's okay. let me show you, yeah? we can stop at any time if you want to." you pull back enough to look her in her soft, grey eyes. you bring your hands up to cup her cheeks, making sure she's focused and listening.

"yeah... i'll let you." vi nodded in your hands, eyes closing with a soft sigh.

you kept your hold on her face, but leaned in to kiss her. her lips were softer than you expected them to be, your own eyes closing as you relaxed at the feeling. you pulled back, but before you could even open your mouth to check on her, she presses her lips on yours again.

vi was a little messy with her kisses, but the more you kissed, the more she got the hang of it. your hands started to wander, one moving back to her thigh, and the other coming to hold her waist. your hands on her gave her the confidence to start to touch you. you felt one of her hands slide up your back, while the other held the side of your face. you smile into the kiss, both hands moving to her hips to gently tug her into your lap.

soon enough, you had vi straddling your thighs– knees on either side of your hips as you kissed. you pulled back, trailing your mouth down her jawline and to her neck. you nipped a little just above her collarbone to test her reaction. vi's soft gasp drew a wicked smile from you as you bit harder. you sucked a couple hickeys into her neck, giggling at her soft whimpers.

"can i take this off, pretty girl?" you ask, hands coming up to the hem of vi's shirt. she nods immediately, leaning back to help you pull the shirt over her head.

your eyes widened once her shirt was off. she was toned, you'd watched her work out before but you'd never seen her shirtless like this. you traced the contours of her torso with a hungry gaze, eyes coming to rest on her tits. her nipples were hard, chest flushed a light red from the blush that had taken over her face.

"stop staring! it's embarrassing." vi protested, crossing her arms over her chest.

"ah, ah. don't cover yourself up, vi, you're so gorgeous." you tell her, hands coming up to pull her arms away from her chest.

you used one hand to pull her body closer to you, your mouth latching on to one of her nipples. your free hand came up to twist the other one, drawing a moan from vi's pretty lips. you pulled back, your hand stopping it's movements.

"sshh, don't be so loud. do you wanna wake the whole hall?" you whispered, purposefully squeezing her breast to pull another noise from her. she quickly shook her head, resting her forehead on your shoulder.

"yeah, that's what i thought. c'mon, baby, can i lay you down?" you speak softly, feeling the vulnerability radiating off of the girl in your lap. you feel vi nod against you, and slowly move her onto her back. she's looking up at you through pink locks of hair, her lips parted as she breathes a bit heavier than usual.

you crawl between her legs, leaning over her to plant a couple kisses on her lips. her head tilts back as you kiss down her neck, breath quickening. her hands fist the sheets as you trail down her collarbone, to the valley between her breasts, down her stomach, and finally to the waistband of her pants. you look up, eyes meeting hers and hands coming to rest on her hips.

"can... is this okay? can i take these off?" you slowly rub her hips, keeping your voice soft. you're trying to make her feel as comfortable as you can.

"y-yeah, uh," vi clears her throat, taking a deep breath. "go for it."

you nod, beginning to slowly slide her pants down, and eventually off her ankles. you run your hands up and down her thighs, trying to soothe her.

"you're so pretty, vi. so, so gorgeous. are you okay?" you query, resting your head on her inner thigh as you stare up at her. your breath hits dangerously close to where she wants you, causing her to try and squeeze her thighs together.

"mmh- yeah, fine. want you so bad." she pants, voice taking on a higher pitch than usual. she's doing her best to keep quiet, you can tell.

"yeah? i'm sure you do, baby. let's get these off." you smile at the neediness in her voice, moving to slowly pull her boxers off. it takes everything in you not to let out a moan at how pretty she looked.

vi's pussy was already soaked. she was practically dripping onto her sheets already, you hadn't realized how long you'd been staring until she closed her legs. you immediately pushed them back open, earning a gasp from her. you reached one hand up, running your index finger through her folds to see how she'd react. she almost jumped out of her skin, hips jerking with a sharp gasp.

"fuck! baby-" she whined, immediately covering her mouth with her hands. you smiled, giggling at how desperate she was already.

"aww, what is it? you need me that bad, huh?" you ask, voice falsely saccharine. you ran your finger through her heat again, dragging it more firmly over her clit.

"uh huh! mmf, please, please! i need it." vi begs, turning her head to bury her face in the thin pillow. it wasn't doing much to hide her, but you wouldn't tell her that. you did, however, warn her.

"okay, baby, okay. i'm gonna put one finger in, alright? is that okay?" you continue rubbing her outer thigh with your free hand. you kept a close eye on her face, half of it still visible, for any signs of discomfort or pain.

that's the question that made vi look up at you, her expression already looking fucked out despite you having not even done anything. she nods, a string of quiet begs coming from her. that's all you need to push your finger in, watching as vi's hips twitch slightly. she brings her hand to her mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you push your finger in and out. you do that for awhile, trying to get her used to the feeling.

it doesn't take her long before she's already begging for a second, and of course you oblige. who are you to decline a pretty girl whos asking so nicely? a second finger being pushed in draws a low groan from her, back arching.

"that feel good, sweetheart?" you scissor your fingers, pace gentle as you let her adjust. she doesn't properly answer, just whines and pushes her hips down on your hand faster.

"aww... such a slut for me, huh? so greedy." you tease, voice slightly condescending. your words draw a high pitched whine from her. you watch as her hands move to fist the sheets, eyes looking down between her thighs.

"please? more, i need more- oh god!" vi's words quickly cut off whenever you hit a gummy spot inside her after hooking your fingers. her hips jerk into your hand, moans more freely spilling from her lips.

"ah, there we go. you sound so pretty, baby." you smile, happy she was enjoying herself so much. you angled your fingers to keep hitting that bundle of nerves in her, drawing moan after moan and whine after whine. vi had given up on muffling herself, she knew she was probably waking up the whole block but she couldn't care less.

she felt way too good, feeling the electricity run through her body. the muscles in her stomach tightened, back arching further off the bed as she panted. vi couldn't help it, her hand reached to grab the hand you had on her outer thigh. she squeezed it, and almost immediately, all of the tension in her body released. pleasure washed over her like a wave in the ocean, and her body went lax. she was breathing heavy, eyes closed, hand death gripping yours.

you pull your fingers out of her, licking them clean before trailing kisses up her thighs, over her stomach, all the way up to her face. you take a second to dip down and lick the rest of her clean, not bothering trying to clean the sheets knowing laundry day was tomorrow. once she lets your hand go, you both sit up and face each other.

vi is still panting, but she's breathing easier now. "oh my god. does that always feel that good?"

"yeah, pretty much. god, you looked so pretty." you praise, moving her hair out of her face and gently cupping her cheek.

she blushes bright red, looking down instead of making eye contact. "h-hey! you can't just say that. you were doing all the work." she argues.

"hush, you did good too. i'm proud of you for going out of your comfort zone for me." you smile softly at her, thumb caressing her cheek. "let's get your clothes back on, yeah? you can sleep in my bed tonight." you offer.

vi looks up at you and nods immediately. "sounds good to me! lucky we did this before laundry day..." she shakes her head playfully, standing up and stretching before bending to pick up her clothes.

"i'm tempted to hide your clothes from you so i can see your body for longer." you tease, watching as she slides her boxers and pants back on.

she giggles, turning around to look at you as she puts her shirt on. "you hide my clothes, i'll never get another tattoo." she jokes back, knowing how much you'd been begging her to get another tattoo from you. she looked so pretty inked up, how could you not?

"hey! okay okay, no hiding clothes!" you stand up, grabbing her hands. "you truly are gorgeous, though." you say, sighing as you stare into her eyes with adoration. vi leans to kiss you, pulling you over to your bed.

"whatever you say, babe." she lays down, gesturing for you to lay beside her. you do, resting your head on her chest and closing your eyes.

"i love you, violet."

"i love you too."

a/n: i am SO sorry this took me so long, i was dealing with a lot of shit this week and part of last, on top of going through a big period of feeling more ace so 😅 working on this was difficult, but i'm finally done!! i'm very inexperienced at writing smut, so i apologize if any of this sounds cringy or bad. thank you for the request, anon, and i hope you request again !! i loved this idea <3

[saeist]

it was just a mission. something about gathering intel at some event. it's simple, you've done this multiple times but the main problem? your boyfriend is pretty hands on with these kinds of missions

it wasn't out of the ordinary that you would be sent out on missions with nagumo. you two are members of the order and maybe to the higher ups, it was way more convenient this way (not that you minded)

now here you are, in a bar at some skyline rooftop in tokyo, gathering much information you can about an upcoming grand ball happening in a few weeks

your boyfriend, who happens to be your work partner is seated beside you, casually having a great time at the bar

in work settings, you and nagumo maintained a professional relationship. not only that it helps with your work ethics, it also prevents potential problems that may come in your way with your relationship (in regards to the work place. you wouldn't want to bring problems into your own home, now would you?)

but sometimes nagumo may take things too far just like right now.

nagumo had managed to find an important figure for the event and as expected, he charms his way to get information out of her. you watch them like a hawk as nagumo basically impresses this woman so much that she's already spilling company secrets to him

in retrospect, nagumo could've gotten this information in millions of different ways and scenarios. he has done shit like this too many times to count but since you were his partner for this specific mission, where's the fun in doing things he'd usually do without you?

he takes a look around the bar. just for a second to check if you were already looking at him– you are

nagumo holds in his smirk as he turns his attention back to the poor woman who was now babbling on about her life and company secrets

"that's cool" nagumo nods along to whatever the woman was yapping about, "so you're like super involved with the process of the production? that's interesting" nagumo hums, his voice dropping an octave lower in order to sound seductive just to see your reaction

now, you aren't exactly the jealous type. you were an assassin, you were bound to get into situations like this. it's all part of the job but something about nagumo flirting his way through this mission was rubbing you the wrong way

was it the drinks? it couldn't be. you are basically trained to withstand alcohol consumptions no matter how much you drink

the woman was now wrapped around nagumo's finger with the way she was giggling like crazy. twirling her hair and all as she leans onto nagumo's chest

nagumo got her right where he wanted

nagumo pauses his little chitchat with the woman to steal a glance towards your direction. you aren't exactly looking right at them but your bloodlust and hostility was going off the roof that nagumo couldn't help but look over

when you feel his gaze, you only look at him with a neutral expression though nagumo sees right through it. your eyes don't lie. you wanted to kill both the woman and him at the same time. he can literally see how you wanted them dead on the spot

the woman, still oblivious to your presence nor what you meant to nagumo, decides to take it up a notch and place her hand on nagumo's exposed chest

nagumo's eyes widened as he tries to pry her hands off of him. oh fuck, he thinks to himself. totally not expecting the woman to be handsy

the woman caresses his chest as she stares at him like he was eye candy (he is). she couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his exposed tattoos. fuck. maybe i should've just kept it at bay from the start, nagumo thinks to himself. he then stiffens when he feels the woman brush her fingers against his tattoos. his hand flies towards her wrist to brush her off as politely as he can.

nagumo tries to keep his expression as casual and neutral as he can but how could he when he can feel your intense stare at the side of his face.

he's so fucking dead

you click your tongue loudly in annoyance. the glass in your hand cracked under your grip. you were too busy ignoring the simmering feeling to notice til you felt some liquid seep through your fingers. nagumo nervously looks over at your direction again, trying to telepathically tell you to calm down

"so nagumo, any plans for tonight?" the woman purrs, leaning back on him

okay. that was your last straw.

you slam the glass down on the countertop, breaking it into tiny pieces. you push yourself off the bar as you make your way to the car. the mission might as well be over with since nagumo basically gathered all the information you two needed

nagumo winces as the glass shattered. even scaring the poor woman who's all over him. she grumbles about how you were too drunk to notice that you were getting physical

"i'll be going to the bathroom for a bit, excuse me" nagumo chirps, effortlessly pushing the woman off of him as he catches up to you

he's definitely done it this time around

nagumo makes a face as he rushes towards the parking lot where you were likely most waiting in. he considers the mission done when he got every possible detail needed for the upcoming plans

now onto his next mission: how to calm your not so jealous, jealous girlfriend down

when he makes it to the parking lot where your car was parked at. he was pleasantly surprised that you were waiting for him. for a second there he thought he would have to take an uber back home

you were busy distracting yourself on your phone when you hear a knock at the window. without even looking up, you unlocked the car and waited for nagumo to get inside

"hi" he greets, sitting on the passenger seat, "have i ever told you that you look beautiful tonight?" nagumo smiles, leaning over to your side to peck your cheek

you don't spare him a glance. hell, you didn't even acknowledge him. instead, you start the car and get the fuck out of the parking lot

"whoa! someone's in a hurry" nagumo jokes, gripping on the grab handle tightly as you floor it through the streets of tokyo. you ignore him and grip the steering wheel tighter. so tight that your knuckles turned white

you can't tell if nagumo still couldn't get the hint with the way he was just sitting in the passenger seat like the passenger prince he is. your eyes flicker towards his direction for a second and there you see his infamous smile on his face

for some reason that just upset you further

so you took a sharp turn that the tires were screeching. nagumo yelps in surprise

"babe, i'm gonna throw up at this rate with the way you're driving!" nagumo whines, reclining the seat back so he could rest a little. he was already getting a little car sick

"then get out and walk home" you snap, slamming on the breaks. nagumo was thankful that he had his seatbelt on or else he would've already flew out of the windshield

"oh so you are mad.." nagumo murmurs, "like mad mad"

you never wanted to strangle your own boyfriend til now. you can't even tell if he's being serious or being a little shit (it's most likely the latter) but the icky green feeling in your stomach was basically controlling you and your emotions right now

your silence was the answer nagumo needed. he lets out a chuckle. you are so easy to read

"is my baby jealous?" he teases, nudging you a bit. you shake off his touch, not wanting him to touch you in any way shape of form despite being in the same car as him, "you totally are" he coos, laughing at your reaction

you grit your teeth in annoyance, "i don't know, am i?"

nagumo hums, entertained by this whole conversation. he has never seen you act like this so this was a first. who knew you'd be cute like this

"it was just for the mission, baby. don't be upset" he says, reaching out to pinch your cheeks

"it wasn't just the mission, nagumo. you let her flirt with you" you seethe, frustration and irritation bubbling inside you

nagumo leans back on his seat, tapping his finger on his chin as if he was deep in thought. "well, i had to get the information one way or another so why not make her believe that she was some hot shit?"

"so you think hitting on people even when you have an actual partner, that was beside you the whole time mind you! would be the perfect way to fish out information? wow" you retaliate, shoulders dropping as you stare at the empty road in front of you

nagumo winces at your words

"okay maybe the flirting bit was a little too much–"

"what the fuck? so does that mean you do this every single time when you need intel behind my back? all this fucking time?" you cut him off, turning to nagumo with hurt evident on your features

nagumo's eyes widens at your accusation. he would never!

"what? baby no! i would never do that to you!" nagumo argues, sitting up properly. the look on your face is something he never wants to see ever again. seeing the hurt on your face hurt him more than a blade piercing through his skin

"i mean that maybe this time it was too far! i would never do that to you. it just so happens that the woman was flirting with me even if i was just being nice! i'm sorry baby. for the woman and for the way i acted tonight. i'm sorry" nagumo apologizes sincerely

you don't say anything. you continue to focus on the road so you could get home in one piece. nagumo waits and watches for your reaction but when he notices that you aren't saying anything he sighs

nagumo carefully reaches out for your hand that was on the gear shift. he slowly intertwines them together and places your hand on his lap

"baby, i'm really sorry that i made you feel this way. it wasn't my intention" nagumo rubs his thumb across your hand, "i just thought it may be a little funny to see how you'd react if i let other people flirt with me–"

luckily you were already on your street by the time nagumo was rambling because hearing his words just now made you slam on the breaks

"jesus babe. if you want to kill me then just stab me in the heart instead of trying to make me fly off the car" nagumo groans as he lurches forward but the seatbelt that he was wearing prevented him from flying out

"you deserve it" you glare at him, shaking off his hand as you exit the car. nagumo follows like a lost puppy

by the time you finally get inside your shared apartment, you were still irritated with nagumo, who has not left your side since. he's been following you around the house. from the living room to the bathroom and now at the kitchen where you were making yourself some tea to wind down before going to bed

nagumo wraps his arms around your frame and rests his head on your shoulder as you boil water on a kettle

"... are you still mad at me?" he mumbles in your ear, watching you add your usual spoons of sugar on your cup

you huff, "is it not obvious?"

"sorry"

nagumo pouts and decides pushes his luck. he presses a soft kiss on your cheek, in attempt to make you swoon. usually on normal days, this would've worked

"that's not gonna work this time around" you grumbled, turning off the kettle as it goes off. you pour yourself some hot water as nagumo continues to hold you close to him

"what is?" nagumo decides to play coy. again, you were just so easy to read. this time instead of kissing your cheek, his lips ghost against your jawline. nagumo feels you stiffen at the gesture. he smirks, hands sliding down your abdomen before they rest on your hips

"still mad?" he purrs in your ear. you shiver when you feel him finally press his lips against your jawline and trail kisses along side of it. he then flips you around, your back is now pressed against the cold tiles of your kitchen island. you stare at nagumo with wide eyes. you were supposed to be mad at him!

nagumo leans in, slowly closing the distance between you. his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes like he was waiting for you to say something but instead he notices the way your breath hitches and your fingers twitching against the countertop like you were holding yourself back

"if you're still mad then let me make it up to you, baby" nagumo chuckles, hands rubbing random shapes on your exposed skin. you narrow your eyes at him, silently challenging him to bring it on. you aren't going to give in that easily

although all those thoughts go out the window the moment you feel his lips against yours. as cheesy as it is and no matter how long you've been dating nagumo, every time you two kiss its like time slows down and sparks fly

your hands immediately find their way around his neck, closing the distance. nagumo hums against the kiss, looks like he finally won you over

things take a turn after that and let's just say your tea is now long forgotten and maybe he may or may have not made it up to you

[sunflowersatori]

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.

[alexiroflife]

"exes"

satoru gojo

mdni

The very last person on this earth that you would have wanted as an ex is Satoru Gojo, and for plenty of reasons.

Aside from the obvious, of course, suffering the loss of such a lively and attractive spirit from your life remains one of the many reasons as to why breaking up with Gojo was a difficult thing to go through with.

But in addition to your mourning of his charm, personality, and presence, there comes the burden of his persistence that you should have known would proceed outside the barriers of your faded relationship - or at least, what Satoru would call a "temporary break."

It began with little things, like the music he would play on his social media that had a very blatant reference to you and your bond, which he refuses to believe has actually come to an end. When you enforce no contact, he takes to his stories and Instagram notes, bombarding them with the intimate songs you would share with one another, songs only you could recognize as specific to yourselves.

Then came the indirect check-ins... through other people. The two of you have always had the same group of friends, however, at times the group splits in two: Satoru, his best friend Suguru, and then you and Nanami. Shoko likes to float between the two, as if the rift is connected by some bridge allowing her to gather intel from both sides.

And you would roll your eyes every time Suguru would randomly shoot you a text inquiring about your wellbeing or what you're doing when in reality you know that Suguru preferred to leave you to your own devices and respect your space... unless of course, a certain blue-eyed nagger insisted he speak to you on his behalf.

God, and Shoko was no better. In fact, she was worse, often buzzing about to share information on how badly Gojo's been doing without you, only to run back and report how you're doing to him, no doubt. The only person who exhibited somewhat normal behavior when it came to the two of you was Nanami, but of course, he never much cared for Gojo's antics and was consequently happy to stay out of them.

And you wish you could hate Gojo the way Nanami did. You wish you could ignore every sign and every shout to be seen and heard he's thrown your way. You wish it annoyed you enough to never want to speak to him again, but much like how you reacted when he pulled similar stunts to begin dating you, you're undoubtedly attracted to his reckless persistence.

"See? S'not so bad, now is it honey?"

His whisper is heavy, hot breath dragging into your ear as sweat drips from his pale skin onto your own like a faucet leaking water. You want to scream at him, punch him, push him away, but the silkiness of his lips gliding over your cheekbone, graciously kissing away as though you have starved him does little to make you oppose.

You whine as your hands fling to press into his spine - a noise of desperation or frustration you're not quite sure - but Satoru is quick to thrust his hips down into your own teasingly, slowly, bruisingly in response and you're filled to the brim with the weight of his obsession with you as well as his throbbing length.

"I hate you," you manage through a low hiss, vision blurring over as you stare up past ivory locks. Satoru kisses your temple sweetly, tucking his previously propped arms under your own to press his body into and hold you impossibly close. His hips stutter, circle, and plunge with devastating, prolonged strokes. Your eyes screw shut and a cry spills from your lips just in time for your ex to hush you softly, his nose buried into the crook of your neck.

"I love you too, baby," he groans, intoxicated, dizzy with arrogance and ardor that never died. "Love you so much. You're always so good to me."

And just like that, your back in his claws. Stuck. Unable to move on from your heckler of an ex-boyfriend. Constantly pushing and pulling, promising that the last time is truly the last until he shows up at your door again with those hypnotic crystal eyes peering down at you as though he could never glance into anyone's direction but yours for the rest of time.

You hate it. You hate having Satoru Gojo as your ex because you know that you will never allow yourself to truly get rid of him.

[fandom-random-help]

Part 1

Part 2 of Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Military!Reader

As the days went on, the mission should've ended quicker than expected. Nothing prepared you for the ambush. It all happened so fast. One minute you and Soap are finishing up a stealth mission, quickly and efficiently gathering all the intel you needed to go home. The next? Getting shot at while you think you made it into the clear.

You and Soap kept running to get out of range, but they were following close behind. The woods you were both running in was rough terrain and with it being dark out made it difficult to navigate. Gunshots and yelling rang out from behind you as you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. That's when you spot it, a river to your left. You look at Soap, who is also on your left, and devise a plan. "You're gonna hate me for this Sudsy." You say as you tackle Soap until you both are rolling down the hill, off the beaten path, and into the river. The water felt cold as it hit your skin, cooling you down from the deadly marathon you just ran. Harsh breaths and running water was all you could hear as you slowly calmed your once rapid heart-rate. Soap turns to you and lets out a little laugh.

"Christ Bonnie, didn't think you were that tough." Was all he said as you begin sit up. You winced. You looked down and notice you've been shot on you right side. Not too critical, but bad enough it needed medical attention. Soap quickly got up to assess your state. He quickly grabbed for his radio to talk to anyone who would listen. He called for medical help and when asked what happened all he said was that you were shot. On the other end of the radio Price is worried, Gaz is keeping cool on the outside, and Ghost? He was internally panicking.

Why didn't he go with you? Why did he choose to stay with Price and Gaz? Why did he ignore your insistence on having him go with you? Why did he push you away?

All these thoughts were running through his mind as he wondered how bad it was.

Meanwhile, Soap was getting you to a safepoint. It started out easy, you were able to walk so nothing was a hassle. That was until the blood loss really hit and it was getting harder to stand, to see, to think. Soap noticed and caught you before you could hit the ground and carried you the rest of the way. He kept urging you to stay awake and think of "happy things" as he put it.

All you could think about was Simon. It's who you always thought about in times like this, but right now, it was anxiety-inducing.

How is he going to react? How is he going to look at you now? Will he leave you? Will he even tell you?

You were so caught up in the what ifs that you didn't realize you were crying. Your chest felt heavier than usual. Your breaths were short and quick. Soap reassured you that you were almost there and he wasn't lying. It felt like mere seconds had passed and then you were laying in a makeshift bed. The field medic slowly started removing your gear as Soap stood by, worried for you.

"I'm going to have to remove your mask. I can't have you hyperventilate." The medic said as she reached for the mask. You flinched away from her and asked if you could have privacy first. She nodded and turned to Soap telling him to leave. He wasn't about to let that happen. He watched you almost die on the way to the medic and he wanted to make sure you were okay. He was about to argue until you yelled, "Soap can I just have some goddamn peace! I don't want anyone to see me!" He was taken aback by your words until you whispered out. "My boyfriend is gonna kill me when he sees me like this." Before he could get any words out the medic ushered him out of the room.

Soap made it to the rest of the team when they started bombarding him with questions of what happened? and were you alright? He explained what happened on the mission to the guys while Ghost stood in the corner taking it all in. When Soap got to the end and said your boyfriend was going to kill you if he seen you injured. Everybody froze.

"Boyfriend? Since when did she have a boyfriend?" Gaz asked.

"She never said anything about a boyfriend the entire time she's been with us." Price stated.

"Maybe he's a prick." Ghost said, cutting everybody's attention towards him. He shruged and continued, "She never talks about him, she said he would kill her if she was injured, she's always quiet when we talk about our relationships. If I'd known any better I'd say he's a prick."

That's when the theories started rolling about what kind of boyfriend you had. Gaz thinks he's verbally abusive as you always seem a little stunned when you recieve compliments or praise for your work. Price thinks you were worried about him finding out about your job since you never brought him up until you were hurt. Soap thinks he probably has the ugliest mug anybody has ever laid eyes on and you stay with him out of pity even though he isn't right for you. Ghost doesn't say anything the whole time. He feels like he's said enough, but it makes him wonder how bad your life is outside of work must be if you never talk about it.

You, on the other hand, are in pain and calming down from the slight anxiety attack earlier. The medic bandaged you up, but said you needed to be treated back at base. Since you and Soap's mission was the finishing touch to the deployment it meant you would be back on base quicker than you thought. You left two days before the rest of the task force due to your injury. The ride on heli back to base was...silent. Not even your anxious thinking was loud. You missed the guys though, wondered how they were taking it.

You were whisked away to the infirmary as soon as you touched the ground. You got a proper physical exam, and was given the order to rest and recover. You told the nurses that you didn't want visitors. You were a private person, and having anyone see you hurt felt almost uncomfortable. After getting settled in your room you pulled out your phone. Numerous texts and phone calls raided your phone's notifications. All of them were from Simon. You almost got choked up knowing you've been ignoring, but not ignoring your boyfriend the entire month. You knew you couldn't keep doing this. You had to tell him whether you liked it or not. He had to know, for your sake and his.

The guys made it back two days later. As soon as they got on base they walked to the infirmary. Soap and Gaz were practically running to the front desk. After a long back and forth with the nurses, they were turned away defeated and disappointed. "I can't believe she doesn't want to see us? We're her friends." Soap says, almost heartbroken. "You think it has something to do with her boyfriend?" Gaz questioned. Ghost rolled his eyes as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He froze slightly, but kept walking with the guys. After a few seconds, he quietly separated from the group and went to his room. He closed the door and pulled out his phone. It was a text from you that read:

"Sorry Baby! I've been sooooo busy with work lately. I did want to let you know I might be a few days late coming home. Flight schedules are fucked. I love you so much and I hope you made it home safe <3"

He smiled a little. This meant he could suprise you when you actually come home. He replied back:

"It's alright love. Made it home just fine. You be safe coming back home. I love you."

Simon spent that night doing his paperwork and filing his action report. After he was done he took his papers and walked down the hall to Price's office. The light was still on in his office so Simon knocked on the door. "It's open." Price said plainly. Simon walks in and noticed that Price is staring at the phone on his desk. "Somethin' wrong Cap'n?" Simon asked. Price sighed, "I'm supposed to call Grasshopper's emergency contact, but I'm worried it might start something that she doesn't need right now." Simon huffed, "It's protocol Cap. Might as well do it. 'Sides if he causes a scene, we can take'em." Price looks up at Simon and gives a small nod. After Simon drops off his paperwork, he walks back to his room. Once he's back in his room he goes to lay down before his phone starts buzzing on his nightstand. He picks it up and looks at the caller ID.

Why is Price calling him?

Part 3

[shadowdaddies]

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.

[charliemwrites]

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

[ichorai]

chiropterology — knight in shining kevlar.

drabble synopsis ; batman forgets to turn off his comms. warnings ; sexually suggestive.

series masterlist.

Gotham was a murky city. Polluted smog crept through the alleys, too thick to be water vapor, but too thin to be dangerous to inhale. Just terrible enough to survive. The streets were fissured, walls graffitied, and lights constantly flickering. 

Your shoes echoed pattering noises as you hurried down the puddle-strewn sidewalks. Being out this late was something you often tried to avoid, as it was practically begging for someone to come and mug, kidnap, or shiv you in the guts. You’d lost track of time while helping Tim “gather intel” on a few criminals, which was really just stalking, but you were nothing if not supportive of your son.

As you turned into a rather dark and dreary, but empty pathway between two run-down buildings, having taken this path a million times through the city to get to the manor, you suddenly heard a familiar whoosh-and-thud noise behind you.

A grin twisted the corners of your lips.

“You shouldn’t be here,” said Batman, his cape and mask casting an intimidating shadow onto the side of the building, voice deep and gravelly. You understood why so many civilians were terrified of him; if you hadn’t known that was your husband under that cowl, you would be, too.

“I’m getting deja vu,” you hummed, drawing closer with a smile and raising a finger to slot beneath his stubbled chin. “Except—last time you landed on top of me instead of behind me. I'm glad you've improved your aim.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” he susurrated, making a pleasant tremor dance along your spine, like a spider skittering up a wall. Bruce began to step forward, crowding you behind a rusty metal fire escape. “You’d like it if I landed on top of you again.”

“Mmh, Batman,” you protested, a laugh edging into your tone. “I’m a married woman.”

The uncovered half of Bruce’s face twitched with amusement. He watched the way your chest rose and fell, your pupils dilating with want, kindling excitement behind his ribs.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you whispered, breathless, tugging on his chest plates with two fingers, pulling him even closer.

“Not if you play nice. Unless you want me to…” growled Bruce, the tip of his nose brushing your cheek, lips only a hair’s breadth from yours—

“DEAR GOD, MAKE IT STOP!” a tinny voice screamed so loud that you could hear it clear as day from Bruce’s mask. Both you and Bruce violently flinched at the interruption. 

“Is that—Spoiler?” you whispered, eyes cartoonishly owlish.

Bruce looked genuinely shaken as another voice awkwardly said, “Hey, Bats. Oracle here. You kinda… left your comm lines open.”

There was a long pause, Bruce quietly asking, “How many of them heard that?”

“Uhm… all of them?” came Oracle’s apologetic response.

“I need bleach!” shrieked Stephanie. “For my ears!”

“Please, someone call Black Canary so she can blow my eardrums,” Tim lamented. 

“Someone kill me again,” Jason groveled. 

“I do not understand,” Damian’s voice added on to the chaos. “Why would she think Batman would hurt her?”

This ensued another round of terrified howling. Bruce drooped at the sound of his kids screaming in his ear. He leaned against you as you started giggling, shoulders shaking with the effort of muffling your snorts. 

“Cutting your comm line,” Barbara said, though not without a laugh in her own voice.

“So—we can never go home now,” you said, looking none too troubled by the thought. “This is a great time to tell you that I’ve been working on one of those miniature boats, you know the useless ones that are always trapped in the glass display bottles, and I was thinking I’d take my shrink ray and reverse-engineer it to make things bigger and—”

Bats sank further into your touch, effectively shutting you up. You ignored his sharp armor poking at your stomach. “The kids are never going to let us live this down.”

“Honey,” you chortled, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to face you. “Forget the kids—I’m never going to let you live this down.”

This only made Bruce curl into you further with embarrassment. You began to laugh so hard that tears sprung into your eyes. “This isn’t funny. I’m going to have to go into hiding.” Well, it was clear where Dick got his dramatic side from. 

As you recovered from your fit of giggles, you wiped a stray tear away, still chuckling to yourself. “Chin up, Batsy! On the bright side, at least this’ll spook them into giving us more time alone.” 

Bruce merely grunted at that, still looking unhappy, reminding you of a drenched cat that had been forced to have a bath. “Hn. I guess so.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss against his exposed jaw. “Now stop sulking and take me home. My knight in… shining kevlar.”

“Hn.” One of Bruce’s arms wound around your waist as he produced a grappling hook from his utility belt. “Hold on tight.”

[drghostwrite]

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~

[goddamnitmahtin]

Seabreeze or Amaretto Sour

And so the plot continues as we dissect my weird ass dream. This post is the sequel of the post called Damian’s Babysitter and part 3 of the Fuck You Tim (Not Really) AU.

Danny heard a voice he recognized coming from Wes’ laptop. It was his dashing boyfriend across the country doing smart people things. It had been a while since he had heard his voice since Danny had gotten totally swamped with his final dissertation for his astrophysics major and his final project for his aerospace engineering major. It was around finals every semester that he cried himself to sleep for deciding to double major. Even now at this gala, Danny really should have been working on his dissertation. It was a miracle Wes had been able to pull him away from his computer for game night with Sam.

“Oh hey Tucker!” Danny said excitedly. He wasn’t looking at the computer but he still said hi. Danny was trying to mentally figure out where the platter Damian got his in the head with came from. All he could really see was a room full of children so he couldn’t tell which one could have thrown it.

“Oh hey Danny! You two are both at the gala then? Sam told me about the bet,” Danny heard Tucker say. He turned his attention to the discord call, hoping Tuck’s cam was on. It wasn’t.

“Oh uh- yeah. We are both here,” Wes said in a sheepish tone that Danny had never heard before. It made him look at his cousin a bit closer. He was blushing. Oh. OHHHH- Of course Tucker would not only seduce him but also his own cousin. Massive respect.

“Who is that?” Damian asked, almost as if he were trying to gather intel rather than make conversation.

“That’s my boyfriend Tucker. He’s in school at Harvard,” Danny said, smiling. Wes continued talking to Tuck with a dreamy look in his eye. It was hilarious.

The child huffed with a nod, “I see. I would like to speak with him.”

Danny chuckled, “Okay but let’s give Wes a minute to wrap his conversation first okay? I’m gonna go get a drink from the bar.” He then got up off the sofa to make his way to the bar he saw in the main room. It was really fancy. Way fancier than any dive bar he and Wes would go to on the weekends. It was like a legit setup and all the barstools were fully intact.

“Could I get a seabreeze?” Danny asked, already ruffling his pockets for his wallet.

“No,” the bartender said curtly.

“Hold on I have my id. And you’re right I should probably do something lighter. How about an amaretto sour,” Danny found his wallet and got his id out to show the bartender.

The bartender didn’t even look at it, “I will not be fooled by your forgeries again Mister Drake-Wayne.”

Danny was confused, “No- my name is Danny Fenton, look at my id. I’m 21.”

The bartender let out a very pompous sigh and proceeded to look at his id very dramatically, “You did very well forging it this time. Unfortunately for you, I recognize your face sir. I know that you are Tim Drake and not-” the bartend read the id card, “Daniel Fenton. Now run along. I do not wish to be on the bad side of your brother, Mister Grayson.”

Danny couldn’t fucking believe it. What did he mean that he recognized his face?! Danny had never even been here before! What the fuck?! Apparently some Tim guy was trying to get drinks? Did this bartender REALLY mistake him for some fucking kid? Whoever this Tim guy was just ruined Danny’s chances of getting a drink for the rest of the entire night which meant he had to be SOBER for an ENTIRE GALA. Honestly? Fuck you Tim (not really).

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ On the Shoulder of a Giant

Megatron x Reader - transformers prime

Your life was nothing compared to his, minuscule, short and insignificant, yet you were no fool when poor excuses were concerned. For all his speeches, infuriatingly wonderful poetry, and his oh-so-deep and pleasant voice, not even Megatron could fool you with the reason he gave for keeping you by his side.

Sat atop his shoulder, clinging tightly to a protruding spike, you side-eyed him as he smirked at you, far too pleased with himself for rendering you so fear-stricken. Well, fear-stricken in his optics, you for your part were both that and greatly annoyed. Within your glass cage you had at least been warm with enough time to think through your life and choices, whilst here, atop the tyrant’s shoulder, the world rumbled with each step he took, threatening to send you to an abrupt end. You did not fully believe he would let you fall and die; he’d surely catch you, but only for as long as he saw value in your life.

The human who had been seen close to Optimus Prime surely must be of great importance, and though you remained tight-lipped and uncooperative, the warlord had proved himself surprisingly patient. Within your glass cage, you’d been still as a statue, unwilling to even entertain anyone with anything. Atop Megatron’s shoulder pad? Well, constant fear had a way of chipping away at your mind, and you would eventually let something slip, whether it was out of frustration or anger.

Nothing was revealed to you. Every screen was filled with Cybertronian symbols, and although Ratchet had attempted to teach you some, you were, unfortunately, a slow learner. Megatron also ensured you understood nothing of what they spoke either, so here you were, clinging to the worst being to ever enter Earth’s atmosphere like a lifeline.

He seemed to take some sadistic pleasure in knowing that you knew your life was in his servos. If not for him, you’d be at the whims of his Decepticons, some of whom appeared more than eager to cause you suffering; Airachnid chief among them. You detested the way she looked at you, and you detested the fact that you hid against Megatron, squeezing in close to his neck to evade Airachnid’s searching optics.

The rumbling of his chuckling had made your cheeks flush with humiliation and anger.

“Take care in not frightening the human too much, Airachnid. We wouldn’t want their feeble little heart to give out too soon, would we?” he said, glancing down at you with those glowing red optics of his. You sent him a scorching glare in return, and he laughed. “Such fierce hate! You greatly amuse me, little one. Perhaps I ought to keep you as my pet once you’ve revealed the location of the Autobot base.”

“Eat dirt,” you said, wishing to curse him out but being too afraid to push the limits. The deep chuckle you received in return made you look away, eyes refusing to meet his optics as much as you were refusing to accept what you were feeling.

Was it a ploy to soften you up to him? Had they been watching you, gathering intel about your interests before kidnapping you? Surely it was no coincidence as to why Megatron spoke to you about poetry, art, and music whenever you were alone.

He’d threatened you at first, done his job quite well in frying your nerves, but as he’d noticed the way you’d listened closely when he gave a speech, and the way your eyes had followed the movements of his servos and arms, well… he’d begun to indulge himself.

The less paranoid part of you believed he didn’t get to speak to others about his interests often, at least the ones that didn’t involve the war, so perhaps your unhidden fascination had sparked an interest in him? Surely that was one of the reasons why he insisted you stay seated atop his shoulder, which was also why you tried your best to not meet his gaze; feigning disinterest so he may let you back into your cage.

Unfortunately for you, Megatron was attentive, and with you so near nothing was missed on his accord. You understood that far too easily once you dared to glance his way only to immediately find him smirking at you, those sharp denta glinting in amusement.

It would have been easy to hate him. You should hate him; despise him, wish him dead. Yet, you could not. Not when you’d been the one who caught him off-guard, only for a moment, and you’d seen a small window where he was not smirking, but smiling, genuinely, optics a gentle red as you’d been momentarily lost to the sound of his voice grazing your ears with the most beautiful poetry you’d ever heard.

Just as much as he’d taken in your expression of wonderment, you’d caught him with a smile that spoke of gratitude and… You dared not even think of what that second word could be, because if you did, then your heart may sway towards a sea of bloody red which appeared to calm its storm for you; only you.

Next Music: Vangelis – Dreams of Adventure Part 2

[mingi-s-dimples]

No Safe Haven - Jongho

“You're mine. Utterly, completely, mine.”

pairing: military general!jongho x captured fem!spy

genre: army/military au, 18+, filth, enemies to lovers

summary: you never thought infiltrating in his base would get you utterly destroyed and ruined in his office.. but he made sure to make you scream his name.

wc: 5.4k

warnings: military au, enemies to lovers, mean dom!jongho, bratty!reader, lots of cursing, lots of marking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, wrist restraint, lots of talking back tehehe, fingering with a glove, fingering in general, three rounds in total, desk sex, lip biting, biting, possessiveness, unprotected sex (boo use protection irl) completely consensual, for sure forgot something &&& will edit later.

Author's Note: HELLOOOO GUYSSS it's been a while since I've posted a fic of my own, of my own idea 🫣. I've been super into military attire and stuff these days because for uni I'm going to choose the military general medicine part not the citizen one 🤞 and I got pleeentyyyy of ideas to write just about thinking of the uniforms - ups (I'm a whore for this man I'm so sorry-). Anyways it's pure filth- enjoyy 😋🎀

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The battlefield had been bloody, ruthless. You had done everything you could to keep your cover intact, but in the end,

Jongho had caught you.

You had been sent to infiltrate his ranks, gather intel, and sabotage his forces from within. But the war general, known for his unshakable control and brutal tactics, saw through your deception from the very start. Now, you were his prisoner.

The heavy scent of leather, steel, and smoke filled the war tent where you knelt on the cold stone floor, arms bound behind your back. Your head remained high despite the tight ropes digging into your wrists, despite the oppressive weight of the man standing above you. Jongho hadn’t said a word yet, but his presence was enough to suffocate you.

Boots scraped against the floor as he circled you, slow and methodical, like a lion taking its time with a wounded prey. “I should have you executed,” he mused, voice deep, rich, unwavering. “That is the price of betrayal, after all.”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Then do it.”

His lips curled at your defiance, a smirk that was both amused and completely in control. "No," he murmured, crouching to your level. "Death is a mercy you don’t deserve."

Your breath hitched as he reached out, gloved fingers tracing the side of your face in a touch that was far too gentle, too intimate for an enemy.

“You infiltrated my army,” Jongho continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Lied to me. Manipulated my men. And yet… look at you. Still trying to act strong.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to break under his gaze. But then, his grip shifted—fingers tightening around your chin, forcing your head back until your neck was bared to him. His next words sent a shiver down your spine.

"Let’s see how long that fire lasts, little spy. Because make no mistake…" His lips brushed dangerously close to your ear. "I will enjoy watching you burn."

Your pulse was hammering, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Not when he looked at you like he already owned you.

He was too close—too much, too commanding, too intense. His breath fanned over your lips, his fingers still resting just under your chin, as if he were deciding whether to stroke or break.

You hated how easily he made you react. How his voice settled into your bones, how the weight of his gaze made your stomach tighten. So you did the only thing that made sense.

You spat in his face.

The moment the spit landed, a slow, dangerous silence settled between you.

Jongho didn’t move. Didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t react at all for a long, agonizing moment.

His head tilted as he slowly dragged his tongue across his teeth. His fingers flexed at his sides before he reached up and wiped the spit off his cheek with the back of his glove, watching you like a predator who had just decided to play with its food.

"You're fucking bold, aren't you?"

You barely had time to breathe before his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.

Not crushing. Not yet. But firm, a warning.

His hand tightened around your throat, firm enough to keep you still, to remind you that he was the one in control here.

You should have been terrified. Any sane person would be. But you weren’t.

Not when his pupils were blown wide, Not when his breath came out ragged and heavy like he was barely holding himself back.

"You just don’t fucking know when to stop, do you?" his hand hovered in the air almost like he'd hit you, but he didn't. He backed off in a second.

Despite the way his dominance wrapped around you like a vice, despite the way his grip sent a heat spiraling through your core, you still smirked.

"You wanted to slap me," you murmured, your voice smooth, taunting. "But you didn’t."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something darker in his eyes. Something almost feral.

"You really don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to.”

And then—his grip flexed, not enough to choke, but enough to steal your breath for half a second.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to something dark and commanding.

"I should throw you to my men," he murmured, his breath scorching against your skin. "Let them deal with you, break you the way traitors deserve."

A shiver rocketed down your spine.

"But you won’t," you breathed. "Because I belong to you, don’t I?"

The words tasted dangerous, but they weren’t a surrender. They were a challenge.

Jongho stilled and chuckled.

"See, that’s the thing," he muttered. His grip on your throat loosened just enough for his thumb to press against your bottom lip. "You talk like you have a choice."

His thumb dragged down, pulling your lip slightly—teasing, testing, owning.

"You think you can keep fighting me?" he scoffed. "That you can keep pretending you’re not fucking shaking for me?"

Your lips parted to spit something back, but you never got the chance.

Because he kissed you. And fuck, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a war, a claim, a punishment.

His lips crashed onto yours, hot and demanding, swallowing your gasp as his fingers tangled in your hair. Then—he yanked your head back.

A sharp pull, just enough to make you arch into him, just enough to make you fucking feel it.

The kiss was messy, deep, raw. His tongue brushed against yours, then forced its way in, taking, stealing, consuming.

You hated how easily he made you respond. How your body melted into him despite the fire in your veins.

His teeth sank into your lower lip, sharp, punishing, enough to draw a gasp from deep in your throat.

Jongho groaned, deep and wrecked, his dominance dripping from every touch, every movement.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath ragged. His fingers tightened in your hair, keeping you close, keeping you right where he wanted you. Then, just as suddenly, he ripped himself away.

Your chest heaved, your lips tingling, swollen, fucking ruined. His forehead pressed to yours, his breathing uneven, heavy.

"I’ve wanted to fucking ruin you since the moment I found out you infiltrated my base."

Your stomach flipped violently. Jongho’s voice was rough, pure gravel, pure torment.

"I should have had you killed." His lips brushed against your jaw, your cheek, your ear. His grip on your hip tightened, pulling you flush against him. "But I didn't."

Your breath came in short, quick bursts.

"Why?" you whispered, and you hated how breathless you sounded.

His smirk was pure sin. "Because I wanted to be the one to break you," he murmured. "Wanted to see you fall apart under me, wanted to hear you fucking beg."

Your nails dug into your palms, the last remnants of your resistance hanging by a thread.

He tilted his head, his nose barely brushing yours. "I hate how much I want you," he murmured. “And I fucking love it at the same time."

The air between you was scorching, suffocating, dangerous.

"Tell me, little spy," he murmured. His lips ghosted over yours, his words dripping in dominance.

"Are you still going to pretend you don’t want this?"

And for the first time… You didn’t have an answer.

The silence between you was thick, suffocating, stretched to its very limit.

Jongho was still so fucking close, his breath ragged, his pupils blown wide, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike. Then—he snapped.

With a low, wrecked curse, he yanked you forward, his grip like iron around your wrist. Before you could react, he lifted you up effortlessly, manhandling you like you were nothing, your back colliding with the small desk in the room.

His body followed—towering, overwhelming, consuming. And then, he shoved you back.

One palm wrapped around your throat, the other sliding up your waist, fingers digging in, staking his claim as your spine hit the cold wall behind you.

Jongho’s breathing was wrecked, his expression nothing short of feral.

"You really fucking love pushing me, don’t you?" he muttered, his lips crashing onto yours before you had the chance to respond.

This kiss was pure fucking destruction.

Hot. Messy. Feral.

He wasn’t kissing you—he was taking you.

His tongue pushed in, deep and demanding, licking into your mouth like he had something to prove. Like he wanted to ruin the way you tasted.

He swallowed the gasp you let out when his fingers tightened around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin.

"Fuck," he groaned against your lips, his hips pressing flush against yours, his grip tightening on your waist.

His thumb brushed up, pressing against your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

And god—his eyes.

Dark. Wild. Possessive.

"I swear to fucking god," he muttered, his voice low, dripping in dominance, "if you don’t tell me you want this, I’ll stop right now."

You licked your lips, still dazed, still burning from the way he kissed you.

He waited. Just a breath. Just a second. Then—you smirked.

"Stop?" you echoed, your voice syrupy sweet, teasing, testing. “You won’t."

Jongho’s jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard his teeth grind.

His grip on your waist tightened, fingers digging into your flesh, grounding himself.

"You really wanna play this damn game, don’t you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath scorching hot.

You tilted your head, batting your lashes. "I don’t know what you mean, General," you taunted. "I thought you were going to stop."

Something in him snapped at your words. "Fuck," he cursed, low and sharp and fucking wrecked.

Then, he kissed you again—harder, deeper, with even less patience.

His hand slid down from your throat, down your chest, gripping your waist, your thigh, spreading you open for him.

"Tell me you want this," he muttered, his lips dragging down your jaw, your throat, biting, sucking, leaving his mark.

His teeth scraped against your skin, his breath scorching hot against the bruises he left behind.

You inhaled sharply, every inch of you burning, every nerve alight with him.

Then, just to test him one last time, you murmured—so fucking soft, so fucking bratty—

"Make me."

Jongho groaned, deep and wrecked, his hand tightening on your waist like he was seconds away from breaking you completely.

"Oh, you have no fucking idea what you just asked for.”

His lips were relentless. They left no space untouched, trailing down from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your throat—biting, sucking, marking. He wasn’t just kissing you. He was ruining you.

The first sharp bite to your neck ripped a whine from your lips, your head tilting back as pleasure and pain mingled in a dizzying haze.

And just as you sucked in another breath— His hand wrapped around your throat. Not tight. Not yet. Just enough to remind you who the fuck was in control.

"Shut up," he muttered, his grip flexing, silencing the sound still stuck in your throat.

Your nails dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles white, body burning.

His other hand—hot, rough, possessive—slid up your waist, finding the torn fabric of your blouse.

Jongho exhaled sharply at the sight of your black lace bra, his breath coming out heavier, rougher, his restraint hanging by a fucking thread.

"God damn.." he muttered under his breath, his hands splaying over your ribs, thumbs brushing just under your breasts.

Then—his mouth was on you again.

His lips latched onto the swell of your chest, kissing, licking, then—Biting.

The first mark sent a jolt straight between your legs, a soft whimper slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Jongho groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your waist harder, his desperation slipping through the cracks.

His hat—that goddamn general’s cap he always wore like a crown—finally tumbled off, landing somewhere on the floor.

And god, that sight alone—his dark, tousled hair finally exposed, his head buried against your chest, his body pushing you further into the desk—It was almost too much.

And yet—you couldn’t resist pushing him further. You chuckled, low, teasing, amused by his sheer fucking desperation.

"You’re pathetic," you murmured, your voice dripping in mockery.

Jongho stilled and laughed.

Then, with zero warning, he sank his teeth into the curve of your breast. Not gentle. Not sweet. A punishment.

A small cry tore from your throat, but his hand tightened on your neck, keeping it trapped, keeping it his.

"You think this is funny, huh?" he muttered, his breath scorching against the bruises he left.

You grinned, breathless, wrecked, but still teasing.

"Yeah," you whispered, your lashes fluttering as you met his gaze.

Jongho exhaled sharply, his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen, damp with you.

"God, you just don’t fucking stop," he muttered, his hands tightening on your waist, holding you in place.

"Then maybe," he continued, his lips trailing up your chest, your throat, back to your mouth,

“I should shut you up myself."

You licked your lips, still tasting him, still feeling the way his hands had claimed every inch of you.

And yet—he still hadn’t ruined you. Not completely. So you did what you did best. You pushed him further.

"You keep talking about ruining me," you murmured, tilting your head, voice syrupy sweet, taunting.

Jongho’s fingers twitched on your waist, his jaw clenching.

You smirked. "When are you actually gonna do it?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience snapping like a thin thread. Then—his hand was on your throat again. Tighter. Unyielding. His grip forced your head back against the wall, your body completely at his mercy.

"You wanna be ruined, huh?" he muttered, his voice low, dripping in danger.

You barely had time to breathe before he pushed forward, pressing his lips to your ear.

"You wanna be destroyed, hm?" he whispered, his voice a promise.

Your breath hitched, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up.

Jongho felt it. He fucking felt it.

"Let's see.. I wanna make you beg," he muttered, his hand sliding lower, his grip on your throat loosening just enough to let you breathe.

His lips dragged down your jaw, back to your throat, biting, licking, marking you deeper.

"I wanna hear you scream my name," he continued, his words scorching hot against your skin.

You sucked in a breath, your nails digging into the edge of the desk as his hands traveled lower, claiming, consuming.

"I wanna make you cry, cry for my mercy" he whispered, his teeth grazing your pulse. “But you won't get any.”

A small sound—something between a moan and a gasp—slipped past your lips.

He groaned, wrecked at the sound of you.

Jongho’s grip on your waist tightened, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"You really have no idea what you’ve done," he murmured, his gaze burning into yours.

"You really don’t fucking know how long I’ve waited for this."

His fingers dragged along your thigh, teasing, tormenting, pushing you closer to the edge without even touching you properly.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he whispered.

"You’re mine now."

His grip tightened on your jaw, his mouth hovering just above yours.

"And I’m gonna fucking destroy your pretty little pussy.”

He was looong gone.

The moment he yanked off his thick army jacket, revealing the sheer strength beneath—the broad chest, the cut muscles, the battle-worn scars beneath his black shirt—your breath caught in your throat.

And when he reached for your blouse, tearing it away to finally reveal the toned body that came with being a spy, his eyes darkened.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his gaze drinking you in, raw and hungry.

You should have been embarrassed. Should have felt exposed.

But instead? You liked it.

You liked the way his eyes devoured you whole. Liked the way his breath hitched as he took in every inch of you.

And god, his personality? That commanding, ruthless dominance?

It was everything you wanted. Everything you needed.

Maybe it was because of your career, the way you were trained to fight, to defy, to challenge the most dangerous of men.

Or maybe—you just liked men who knew how to fucking take.

Jongho’s fingers moved to your pants, unfastening them with zero hesitation. With one sharp tug, they were gone, pooling at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

And that’s when he saw them.

The scars.

Faint. Barely there. Memories of fights, of battles you survived.

Jongho stilled. Not in hesitation. Not in pity. In pure, raw admiration. Then—he lowered himself. Dropped to his knees. And he pressed his lips to the first scar. Then another. And another. Each one kissed, licked, marked.

Your breath shuddered, your head tilting back against the wall, your thighs trembling beneath his hands.

You wanted to touch him.

Wanted to tangle your fingers in his thick, black hair, yank him closer, make him stay there forever. But you couldn’t. Your hands were still tied.

Jongho exhaled sharply against your skin, his hands tightening on your thighs.

"You’re fucking perfect," he muttered, his lips brushing over the inside of your leg, his voice deep, reverent, utterly wrecked.

Then—he lifted his head. And that look?

That ravenous, all-consuming, predatory stare?

It sent a violent shudder through your entire body.

Jongho didn't even bother taking off his gloves.

His breath was ragged, heavy, dripping in hunger as he pushed himself back up, towering over you again.

His gloved fingers—rough, calloused, strong—trailed from your breasts, grazing over your tight, sensitive skin, dragging lower, lower—

Until he reached the soaked fabric of your panties, barely covering what was his.

He exhaled sharply, his hot breath hitting your face as his lips brushed over yours, teasing, taunting.

"You’re dripping," he murmured, his voice a low, filthy rasp.

His fingers pressed against you, teasing the soaked material, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble.

You whined, hips twitching.

"Mhm, you want it," he muttered, his tone dark, knowing, dripping in dominance.

He didn’t ask. He knew.

You glared at him, refusing to answer, refusing to give him what he wanted. So, he took it.

With one sharp, impatient tug, your panties were gone—ripped off like they were nothing.

And then—his fingers were on you. Bare, exposed, nowhere to hide.

A choked moan escaped your lips the second his fingers slid through your slick folds, gathering everything you were giving him.

Jongho let out a low, pleased sound, his jaw tightening.

"You’re fucking soaked," he muttered, almost to himself, almost like he was losing control just from feeling how wrecked you already were.

And then—he pushed in.

One finger, thick, gloved, sliding into your cunt with ease, filling you up in ways that made your breath hitch.

You clenched around him instinctively, a sharp moan escaping before you could stop it.

Jongho cursed under his breath.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as he shoved in another finger, stretching you open, preparing you.

He didn’t ease you in. Didn’t tease. Didn’t wait. He destroyed. His fingers pounded into you, rough, deep, deliberate. Thrusting. Stretching. Curling just right.

Every drag, every push, every pump had your legs trembling, your breath hitching, your body shaking.

You moaned again, louder, a desperate sound that only spurred him on.

"That’s it," he muttered, his lips grazing your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper.

"Let me hear you."

His free hand gripped your waist, holding you still as you writhed under his touch, helpless, wrecked, desperate for more.

He thrust his fingers harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over and over until—

A strangled moan tore from your throat, your body clenching, tightening, shattering.

Jongho groaned, watching as you came undone around his fingers.

"Good fucking girl," he murmured, his lips trailing down your jaw, over your pulse, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat.

And then—he yanked his fingers out, his gloved hand covered in your slick.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he brought them to your lips.

"Open."

Your breath hitched. But you did.

And the second your tongue met the taste of yourself on his fingers, Jongho groaned—deep, guttural, wrecked.

"Fuck," he muttered, his jaw clenching.

Then—his hands were on his belt. Unbuckling. Unzipping. Freeing himself.

"You took my fingers so fucking well," he murmured, his voice a promise, dark and deadly and drenched in filth.

"Now—"

He grabbed your hips, dragging you to the very edge of the desk, lining himself up against your still-twitching entrance.

"Let’s see how well you take my cock."

Jongho didn't waste a second. His hands went to his belt—quick, precise, impatient.

The metal clinked as he unfastened it, and then—his pants dropped, pooling at his ankles, leaving him in nothing but his tight black briefs.

Your breath hitched.You could already see it.

The outline. The size. The sheer thickness. And then—his briefs went next. Fuck. He was big. Thick, long, heavy, the tip leaking with proof of just how much he fucking wanted you. And the look on his face? Ravenous. Starved. Like he was going to eat you alive.

Then—his teeth clenched around his gloves.

One by one, he yanked them off with nothing but his fucking mouth, his sharp canines digging into the fabric, his jaw tightening.

The sight? Sinful. Dangerous. Absolutely lethal. And the second they were off—he grabbed you. Spread your thighs wide open, lined himself up, and—

Slid right the fuck in.

One, brutal, devastating thrust. Every inch. Every single inch, buried deep inside you.

Your back arched off the desk, a broken moan ripping from your lips as he filled you completely, stretching you wide, making you take him.

A deep, low, animalistic sound escaped his chest, his hands gripping your waist so tightly it was borderline bruising.

"Tight as fuck," he hissed, his jaw clenching as he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing against the very deepest part of you.

You clenched around him—hard. Jongho cursed under his breath. And then, when his gaze flickered to your face—

When he saw the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips trembled, the way your eyes glazed over with unshed tears from the sheer stretch of him—

His expression darkened. And his cock fucking twitched inside you.

"Look at you," he muttered, his voice husky, sinful, absolutely wrecked.

"You gonna cry for me, sweetheart?"

His thumb wiped away a stray tear that slipped down your cheek.

"Yeah," he murmured, his lips grazing yours, his fingers gripping your thighs.

"You will."

Then—he moved. And ruined you. Hard. Deep. Merciless. His thrusts were brutal. Animalistic. Completely unhinged.

Your body fucking bounced with every snap of his hips, every shove, every relentless drive of his cock inside you.

"Taking it so fucking well," he muttered, his jaw clenched, his nails digging into your skin.

Deep. So deep. So goddamn good.

Your moans turned to whimpers, your whimpers turned to broken cries.

His fingers tightened on your waist, his thrusts turning sharp, rough, pure devastation.

"That’s it," he muttered, his voice a low, dark rasp.

"Fucking take it."

And you did. Every inch. Every thrust. Every ounce of filthy, reckless, dominating pleasure he gave you. You loved it. Fucking loved it.

And Jongho?

He was going to make sure you never forgot it.

Jongho’s grip on your waist tightened—bruising, possessive, unrelenting.

His pace grew harder. Deeper. More powerful.

Each thrust sent you reeling, your body rocking with the sheer force of him, the desk beneath you creaking under the weight of it all.

Then—his hand slid to your back. A sharp tug. A forceful pull. He dragged you closer, forcing you to take him even deeper. A wrecked cry left your lips. You cursed. You whined. You moaned.

Low, deep, almost feral—his voice drenched in raw satisfaction.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath warm against your ear.

"Every inch of me inside you, just how I’ve fucking wanted—"

His head fell forward, a growl vibrating in his chest. He was close.

And then—his next words sent a full-body shudder down your spine.

"Gonna fill you up, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice hoarse, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, desperate.

"Gonna fuckin’ ruin you."

And then—he did.

He buried himself deep, filling you up, holding you there, making you take everything he gave you.

You gasped, your body clenching around him, your mind spinning, your breath hitched—

But Jongho wasn’t done. Not even close.

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. His fingers brushed up your spine—slow, teasing, dangerous.

Then, in one swift, powerful motion—he flipped you over.

You barely had time to gasp before he dragged you to the edge of the desk, forcing your chest against the cold wood.

And then—his hand wrapped around your face. A firm push.

Your cheek met the surface, your breath hitching as he leaned over you, his weight pressing into your back, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

"Not done with you," he murmured, his tone dangerously low.

"Not even fucking close."

Then— a yank.

His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to make your eyes meet his. And his gaze? Dark. Feral. Completely wrecked.

"Look at me," he muttered, his grip tightening, his breath ragged.

"Watch me while I fucking destroy you."

And then—he did exactly that.

Jongho’s grip on your hair tightened, forcing your gaze onto his. His hips snapped forward—ruthless, punishing, relentless. Harder. Deeper. Unyielding.

Every thrust was a claim, a vow, a promise to ruin you beyond repair.

The desk beneath you creaked, your body jolting with every devastating movement.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his voice dripping with dominance, his tone laced with pure, unfiltered possession.

"Feel how deep I am? How I’m making you take it?"

Your breath hitched, your body tightening, the coil in your stomach winding dangerously close to snapping.

Jongho noticed. Of course he did. He smirked—dark, knowing. And then—he stopped. Pulled out.

Your body screamed in protest, the pleasure that had built up to a near-breaking point now cruelly ripped away.

A strangled noise left your lips. "You—"

"You think you get to come?" Jongho cut you off, his hand gripping your hip, forcing you still beneath him.

"You think I’ll let you have it that easily?"

Then—he was inside you again. Filling you up in a single, brutal thrust, dragging you back to the edge— And stopping. Again.

"Fuck—" you gasped, your hands clenching into fists behind your back, your legs trembling.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Not until I hear you," he murmured, his grip tightening, his voice deep, wicked.

"You want to come, sweetheart?" His breath ghosted over your ear, his hips rolling into you with slow, deliberate torture.

"Then say my fucking name."

You swallowed hard, your pride fighting against the sheer desperation flooding your body.

You were so close, so ruined, so wrecked—

But you refused to give in. So he did it again. And again. Brought you to the peak—then ripped it away. Over. And over. And over. Until—

"Jongho!"

It tore from your throat, raw and desperate, a curse, a plea, a surrender all in one.

Only then did he give it to you.

Only then did he let you fall.

And when you did?

You shattered.

The pleasure crashed over you in violent waves, your body tightening, clenching, convulsing around him as he groaned through clenched teeth.

"That’s it," he murmured, his pace turning wild, ruthless.

"Take it. Fucking take it.”

And then—he followed.

Burying himself deep one more time, his grip bruising, his body wrecked as he spilled inside you—

Filling you. Claiming you. Destroying you.

And when the tremors faded, when your breath finally returned, when your body lay limp against the desk, utterly spent—

Jongho? He wasn’t finished.

Not even close.

His fingers slid to your chin, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze.

And his next words? A promise.

"You think I’m done with ruining you?"

His lips brushed yours, his voice dark, wrecked, hungry.

"You don’t even know the half of it.”

Jongho didn’t stop.

Didn’t let you breathe. Didn’t let you think.

Your body was still trembling, still wrecked from the last orgasm, but he wasn’t done with you.

His fingers pushed deep—so deep you nearly screamed.

"You feel that?" His voice was dark, rough, dripping with possession.

"You’re taking everything I give you, and I haven’t even ruined you completely yet."

His other hand grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him, forcing you to see the hunger in his gaze.

Then—he shoved his fingers between your lips.

"Suck."

It wasn’t a request.

Your tongue flicked over them, hot, wet, sinful— and Jongho groaned, low and wrecked.

"That’s a good girl," he muttered, his fingers dragging over your tongue before pulling free with a wet pop.

"Now, let’s see how loud I can make you scream."

And then—he was inside you again. Hard. Deep. Devastating.

Your back arched, a moan breaking from your lips, but Jongho wasn’t satisfied with that. His fingers found your clit, pressing, rubbing, teasing— You jolted. Cursed.

"Too much?" he mocked, his pace turning brutal, his grip on your waist tightening.

"Too bad."

His thrusts were merciless, unrelenting, driving you higher, harder— Until the pleasure became unbearable.

Your body convulsed, tightening, clenching, shaking— And Jongho felt it.

"Give it to me," he ordered, his voice pure command, pure dominance, pure destruction. You finally shattered.

Your scream broke through the room, your body wrecked, trembling, convulsing around him—Jongho groaned, his own restraint snapping, his grip on you bruising, unyielding—

And then he followed.

Filling you to the brim this time, all over again, cum dripping from your cunt on the desk.

And when it was over—when you were nothing but a trembling mess beneath him—

Jongho leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

Jongho didn’t move for a long moment, his breath still ragged, his body still pressed against yours, the heat between you still unbearable.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear, his voice low, wrecked, commanding.

"I’ll untie you," he murmured, fingers dragging down your spine, teasing, taunting, possessive.

"But only if you swear yourself to me. To my side."

You inhaled sharply. You knew what he meant. He wasn’t just asking for loyalty—he was demanding it.

"Join me," he continued, his fingers tightening around your wrists, his touch still firm, still controlling. "Or I keep you here. Forever.”

The threat—or promise—sent a dangerous thrill down your spine. A smirk tugged at your lips despite the exhaustion in your limbs, the soreness in your body, the undeniable fact that he had completely, utterly wrecked you.

You tilted your head slightly, voice teasing, sultry, defiant.

"You know," you mused, deliberately slow, deliberately provoking,

"I was gonna retire from being a spy for them anyway."

Jongho stilled.

You grinned, eyes flashing as you added, "Guess you're stuck with me, General.”

Jongho still had that dark, commanding presence as he loomed over you, his grip firm, his body still radiating heat and power. His fingers traced over the marks he’d left on your skin, a silent reminder of what he’d just done to you.

But you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

Even wrecked, trembling, and utterly ruined, you still had your pride.

You smirked, tilting your head up slightly, feigning innocence.

"Didn’t you get enough of me, darling?" you teased, your voice dripping with mock sweetness, your eyes flashing with mischief despite the raw pleasure still lingering in your body.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a sinful whisper.

"Didn’t I ruin your pussy enough?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw, his tone dark and taunting.

"You’re teasing me because you want more, aren’t you?"

His fingers trailed down your spine, sending a shiver through your exhausted body, his presence still overwhelming, still utterly in control.

Your smirk didn’t waver. His didn’t either.

“You're mine. Utterly, completely, mine.”

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