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moyazaika · 2 months ago

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tbh jaded lawyer darling trying to save yan crime kingpin from getting his ass thrown into prison for life — yet again.

he’s lingering at the court’s steps, entertaining the news reporters with a dazzling smile, the entire world waiting with bated breath to see whether this is the day his billion dollar criminal empire comes crumbling down—

“the whole world knows you did it!”

“are you ashamed of yourself?”

“do you really think you’ll walk away a free man after today?”

that gets his attention.

“darling, don’t ‘ya worry about me,” he turns to the journalist, and tilts his head to the side, pulling out his lollipop from between those lips, curled in a sly grin. “i ain’t gotta worry ‘bout no fuckin’ laws when i got the world’s best damn lawyer on my side.”

a young man, then. thick glasses and braces on his teeth. far too thin and lanky, for all his balls of steel as he speaks up. “are you implying that your lawyer is an accessory to your crimes? a corrupt lawyer for a guilty man on his way to the gallows?”

he hears you approach before he can think to respond. the familiar, expensive echo of the dress shoes he’d bought you the first time you’d won a case, before you’re there where he thinks you belong; right by his side.

“alleged crimes,” you correct, and your kingpin turns to greet you with a million dollar smile. “now, my client will not be taking any more questions. kindly, fuck off.”

cameras flash instantly and countless more mics are shoved into his pretty face, still mesmerised by you, even when you grab him by the back of his collar (unironed, you notice with absolute dismay) and pull him inside, away from prying eyes.

“you’re being tried for sixteen drug and weapons counts,” you hiss, digging your newly manicured nails into his skin, as you pull the lollipop he’s sucking on right out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and toss it to the side, seething. “when will you fucking get serious!”

he only dumbly stares back at you with a slack jaw, and stars in his eyes. his voice dips an octave lower, deep in his throat when he speaks. “oh, i could get very serious if you wanted to give me a kiss. or, y’know, maybe you could act as a replacement to that sweet lollipop of mine ‘ya just—oh, fuck!”

when you stride into the courtroom later, in your neat, pressed suit and slicked back hair, nobody dares ask why the infamous ‘alleged’ crime lord is following after you with a bruise blossoming on cheeks that flush a deep, deep scarlet.

the judge announces the jury's verdict, and you don’t even look up from the documents you’re perusing when he’s found ‘not guilty’ in a court of law, yet again—

“jesus fuckin’ christ, i knew you were gonna save me!” your kingpin jumps up from where he’s sitting besides you, pressing his face into your shoulder as he breathes you in with an elated, shuddering breath. “can’t even imagine which ditch i’d be rottin’ in without ‘ya, sweet pea.”

“excuse me, sir.” you pry his hands off you with a detached air of reservation you reserve for when the two of you are in public, but the way your knuckles are white when you gather the countless files and papers of yours scattered on your desk tell him everything he needs to know about how pissed you are. “hands off.”

he knows he’s in for it when the two of you get home, and yet, he looks forward to the sight.

it’s always more… exciting than it should be; when you’ve got him shoved right up against a well, going off about how ‘irresponsible’ and ‘immature’ he is, nails leaving his skin bleeding from how deep you sink them into his body, too caught up in your own irritation to notice or, honestly, care.

and maybe, he thinks, as he follows you out, tonight he’ll go pay a visit to someone after you’re done with him.

a man’s got needs, y’know?

he’s high off the rush of his latest win when he walks up the porch steps hours later. it's really only the latest achievement in a long line he attributes solely to you and your efforts.

he’ll make sure to repay you one day, with all you’ve done for him. he’ll take such good care of you; let you do whatever you wanted to him, as a token of his appreciation for how hard you've worked to keep him on the streets he rules and out of the prisons he knows he belongs in.

in fact, his efforts start right here and right now; on the steps of a nice, suburban house, that belongs to the journalist with thick glasses and braces and a wiry frame. the white picket fence and 'keep off the grass' sign do little to deter the man outside. then again, the poor bastard could have had gates of iron, and he still would have found a way to creep inside.

he never knew being a journalist paid so well. shit, maybe he should’ve gone down this path instead of, y’know, running a criminal empire. this bastard's got balls of steel, for what he had the nerve to say about you. but it’s okay! hey! he’s here to take care of it for you!

you don’t ever need to find out what he’s done in your name. ♡

he’s very adamant about this, choosing to see the job to completion all alone, slinking away from your critical, watchful gaze—only once he’s made sure you’re knocked out by watching you sleep, crouched by your bedside, for a few hours—to make sure the problem’s all taken care of.

the kingpin rings the doorbell, and patiently waits for the door to open with his scarred hands held behind his back. there’s a glock in his left back pocket, and a silencer in the right. a swiss army knife curled in his fingers, because he’s always been creative.

yeah, can you believe that? his teachers used to tell him he would make a great artist one day. and he is, he likes to think. only that his canvases are a little less traditional, and not in the banksy way. you know how it is! life imitates art... or some hippie shit like that.

there's no rules in art for what you can paint with, right? or what surfaces you can carve up into pretty shapes...

and so, when the lock clicks open, and the handle turns, it’s exactly like he said; a man’s got needs!

so sue him! really, so what if his needs mean his heavy hands are clamping over the journalist’s mouth, twisted into a silent scream—

so what if he knocks the smaller man back, a fist flying to his face, those wide eyes and all, slack jaw stupidly hanging open in disbelief—

so what if he shoves him inside and kicks the door behind them shut?

your kingpin knows what comes with the life he chose, and sullying his name is one thing—but nobody gets to drag your name through the dirt and live.

he makes sure of that, personally.

“where did you go last night?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the weekly newspaper in your hands. there, on the front page, a greyscale photo of you and your headache of a client, descending the court’s steps after the verdict. “and why didn’t you ask for my permission before you left?”

the headline, in big, bold letters, splashed above the picture; INTERNATIONAL OUTRAGE AS INFAMOUS DRUG LORD EVADES LAW YET AGAIN. SHADY LAWYER TO BLAME?

“just takin’ out the trash, lovely. don’t you worry ‘yer pretty little mind about it.” as he says that, he abandons his own breakfast, suddenly snatching the paper out of your hands and ripping it up, but not before noting the name of the article’s author, tucking it away for later.

shreds of the weekly paper you hadn't even gotten to read yet fall to the floor, fluttering this way and that. you close your eyes and smile. “haha. funny. well, my ‘pretty little mind’ is telling me to throw the coffee in my hands all over you.”

“tryna mark me up?” he purrs, “if you really wanna wake me up, can i suggest somethin’ else ‘ya could throw at me? or on me, really. but—”

“i’m going to kill you in your sleep, one of these days.” you deadpan, turning back to your food. he’s like a little kid, and you’re not about to indulge him by giving him the attention he so desperately wants from you.

“'yer serious??" he grins, hands flying to his face in elation, a curious blush colouring his skin a deep pink. “you mean you actually wanna step into my bedroom— at night— of 'yer own damn will?“

you take another sip of your coffee, fingers trembling around the cup. don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what—

“damn... guess i should start sleeping naked, then.”

extra; what if darling was a prosecutor instead?

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sailortongue · 4 months ago

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Lima Bean

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: kenji makes his intentions clear and a certain reporter is a little too committed to his job

an: ik the title is kinda dumb but bear with me i have an idea (title is still subject to change if the idea falls through). also tags are being kind of silly and I don't know how to get them to act right so if you asked to be tagged but didn't get notified I swear I tried 😭

wc: 2k

navi | prev | series mlist

--------

“I’m pregnant.”

Those two words changed Kenji’s entire demeanor in seconds. His face dropped and his jaw hung open in complete disbelief. “. . . Are you sure?” He asked.

“Positive test, missed period, morning sickness,” you listed off. “I’m going to make an OBGYN appointment anyway just to be 100% sure, but so far yeah I’m pretty sure.”

“Ah,” was all he could say in response, his mind both blank and racing at the same time. Had he really not used protection? Was he that drunk? He tried to think back to that night, but all he could seem to remember was a flash of you under him and his lips on your neck. His face immediately flushed scarlet.

“Are you angry?” You asked, noticing the rapid shift in his complexion.

He rushed to deny your assumption. “No! No, nothing like that. I'm just . . . not sure what to make of this.”

“I know how you feel,” you said wryly. “Just thought you should know, I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling almost hollow inside with the knowledge that your life was about to undergo a drastic change.

“I appreciate it, thank you. If you don’t mind, uh,” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “I'd like to be present. To be a father.” He thought back to when he took care of Emi and how much he came to love her. He was confident in his ability to take care of his own biological child, even if these weren’t the circumstances in which he imagined he’d have one.

You looked at him as if you were meeting him for the very first time, entirely taken aback by his willingness to step up. Truthfully you'd expected him to deny any responsibility, but there he was, asking to raise the baby alongside you—to step up to the metaphorical plate and be a dad. “Really? And you’re not going to leave at the first inconvenience?”

“No. You have my word on that.” His expression was one of utmost sincerity. “I want to be a dad. Granted, this isn’t how I expected it,” he laughed awkwardly, “but it’s how it happened, and I won't run away from it.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I'll be honest, I didn't expect you to be so noble.”

“Thought I’d tell you to get rid of it or just throw a check at you to never contact me again? I understand the concern, but I want to be there every step of the way.”

“Then, would you like to come with me for my appointment? I haven’t scheduled it yet but . . .” you trailed off, realizing you were asking a very busy man to take time out of his day to accompany you to a doctor's appointment. “Unless of course you’re busy or don’t want to,” you added quickly.

He laughed at how flustered you’d gotten. “I'll be there. No matter the weather, practice, or a game, I will be there. That’s my kid you’ve got in there after all,” he said with a broad grin on his face as he pointed to your abdomen. “And that takes priority over everything else.”

“Wow. You’re smitten with something that’s probably the size of a lima bean right now,” you teased.

“Woah now, that’s our lima bean and I’m going to be the best dad a bean could wish for,” he asserted, imagining teaching his future son or daughter to play baseball with him or helping with homework, even what it would be like to do his daughter’s hair, or perhaps teaching his son how to tie a tie.

He was snapped from his thoughts when you slid your phone towards him from across the table, the screen displaying a new contact. “If we're going to be coparenting we should have each other's numbers.”

He picked up the device to input his number and then checked his own phone. He showed you the screen, a message from your own number displayed there.

It was only when he handed your phone back to you that you noticed how late it had already become. “Oh wow, I didn’t realize the time. I didn't mean to keep you so late,” you apologized.

“No no, it’s fine. I'm glad you, or, Ami, I guess, insisted we have this conversation in person. Think if I had been told over text I’d still be sitting on the couch reading it over and over again,” he laughed.

“That was how I felt looking at the test. It didn’t feel real.” You had a smile that mirrored his own, and you couldn’t believe how fortunate you were that Kenji wasn’t the douche you expected he’d be when he found out. Quite the opposite, to your pleasant surprise.

“Do you need a ride back home?” He asked earnestly, not quite ready to say bye. After all, you hadn’t allowed him the chance the last time you had met.

You shook your head as you stood from the table. “No, I drove here, but thanks anyway. I guess I'll keep in touch?”

He hummed in affirmation, standing from his chair, his impressive height towering over you. He gestured for you to walk first, following close behind you, his hand lightly pressed to your lower back as he walked with you to your car. While the two of you were wishing each other good night, another patron of the cafe was typing furiously into his phone, notifying his boss that he had just overheard the sport's world's juiciest scandal in months.

-❀-

The first thing you did the following day was schedule an appointment with an obstetrician. There had been a recent cancellation so you were able to get a slot in just a few days. You sent Kenji a text to notify him when and where, a small part of you looking forward to seeing him again. He responded quickly, saying he would definitely be there.

When the day came, he called you to ask if you wanted to go together, rather than take two cars. You agreed and told him your address, choosing to wait for him inside due to the biting cold of December. When you heard a car pull up, you exited your home, and it took all of your willpower not to gawk at his car, which was probably worth more than your entire house. You saw the driver's door begin to open, and he stepped out, breathtakingly handsome as usual. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and waved, greeting you with a jovial “Morning!”

“Good morning, Kenji,” you returned, a smile gracing your features.

As you approached the car, he slid back into the driver's seat and looked over at you, taking in the sight of the mother of his future child. He'd lain awake all night, playing with the idea over and over in his mind. He was really going to be a dad. How different could it be to raise a human baby if he’d already done so with a 20-foot-tall kaiju baby?

You noticed his gaze in your peripheral vision, but as you turned to look at him he snapped his attention forward and made himself busy with inputting the name of the doctor’s office you’d given him into the GPS.

The ride was filled with pleasant small talk, asking each other how you had been since last time, basically avoiding the elephant in the room and talking about everything except the new life between you. After parking, he made sure to open the door to the office for you and entered after you, a rush of cold air enveloping you as you approached the front desk. You confirmed your appointment with the receptionist, and she directed the two of you to sit in the waiting room and told you your name would be called when the doctor was ready.

As you were waiting, you noticed Kenji’s leg bouncing up and down rapidly, showing his nerves despite it not even being his appointment. You took the opportunity that had presented itself and placed your hand atop his knee. He looked over at you, his brown eyes wide and his lips pressed into a thin line. “You can wait in the car if you’d prefer—“

“No!” He all but shouted, refusing to let you believe for even one second that he would run out. “I said I would be here for you and I will,” he said adamantly, placing his hand over yours where it was still on his knee and squeezing tightly, a physical reassurance that we was staying put.

“y/n l/n.” You heard your name called. You and Kenji stood together, his hand not releasing yours. Instead, he rubbed calming circles on the skin as you were escorted into the patient rooms, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was meant to ease his nerves or yours. Either way, it was a sweet gesture.

-❀-

The gel was cold as it was spread across your exposed skin, sending shivers up your spine. A grainy black and white image showed up on the screen, and the doctor pointed to a small grey object depicted on it, surrounded by a sea of black. “This,” she started, “is the fetus.” You looked at the screen in awe before glancing over at Kenji. He was seated in a chair against the wall, his elbows braced on his knees as he leaned forward, his attention rapt on the screen and his lips open in a small “o” shape.

The doctor chuckled at your amazed reactions. “Excited to be parents?” She asked.

You don’t think Kenji even heard her, so you answered. “To be totally honest, this was unexpected, but I think we can make it work. Kenji here made it very clear that he wants to be a dad.”

“That's wonderful to hear. Well, looking at the scan I'd say you’re about 7 weeks along and you can expect to welcome the baby around August 11.

Kenji was practically bubbling as you each took your seats in the car, and he kept stealing glances at your tummy even if you weren’t showing any visible change yet.

-❀-

These past few days of tailing the nation's sweetheart baseball player were so worth it, thought the man sitting in his car while browsing through the photos of Kenji Sato and a woman he’d never been seen with before entering and leaving an OBGYN facility together. Interesting. Very interesting. With those photos there was no denying that Kenji Sato, baseball heartthrob, was a soon-to-be father.

-❀-

Kenji put the car in park in your driveway. You made to get out of the car until he exclaimed “Wait!” You re-situated yourself on the seat, angling yourself towards him. He seemed almost at war with himself, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually say what had prompted him to stop you from leaving. “Would you, uh,” he faltered, chuckling awkwardly. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” He gave you a hopeful look.

Heat flushed across your face and ears, and you beamed at him. “Doing things way out of order aren’t we?” You joked.

He laughed mirthfully as well. “Way out of order,” he agreed. “So, was that a yes? To go out?”

“Yes, that was a yes,” you giggled, finding his eagerness endearingly sweet.

He nodded his head. “Ok. Ok, great. Are you free this Saturday? I'll pick you up?”

“I’ll see you then,” you agreed cheerfully, and, deciding to take another risk since you were doing things all out of order anyway, you leaned over and placed a quick peck against his cheek before hopping out of the car and waving goodbye. He continued to wait in the car until he saw you safely enter your home, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest and his face crimson red, one hand placed lightly against where your lips had touched his skin.

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#ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato #kenji sato #ultraman rising #ultraman rising x reader

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ckret2 · 24 days ago

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The second dimension has burned up, almost(?) everyone is dead, the ones that aren't dead wish they were, and this funny little yellow triangle the Axolotl met one time is some kind of god ghost party host tyrant.

Wanna make it even worse?? I know you do. Let's make it so much worse.

Here, have a fic. Last week's Part 1 is about Bill doing some kind of cosmic horror shit to the Axolotl; part 2 here is about the Axolotl trying to process the most horrifying thing he's ever seen while a bunch of the most annoying gods you've ever seen argue about building inspections and vandalism.

####

When the Axolotl tumbled out of the bloated pocket of reality where Dimension Zero's singularity was supposed to be, for a moment he thought he'd gotten turned around and flown straight back in, because here again was the yellow triangle's nightmarish party: the geometric rainbow of corpses and undead puppeted into dancing for their "magister," the flashing strobe lights, the hissing whispery white noise like the echoes of a Big Bang had gained sentience and started passing secrets to each other, the cacophonous music that seemed to be every song playing at once.

He had to shake his head to clear it and make sense of what he was seeing. No corpses, no dancing: all he was seeing was all the gods who'd gathered together outside the incinerated two dimensional wall to help deal with the criss, at least triple what there had been before he'd entered what-wasn't-Dimension-Zero. The flashing lights were the cameras and broadcasting equipment of reporters, cordoned off from the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force's main center of operations but still crowding as close as possible to see what the firefighters and ATTF were doing. The whispers were the buzz of activity among the emergency response workers.

And the music was only playing in his own head.

A few gods glanced at him as he emerged from the immense roiling miasma that had replaced Dimension Zero, but they had their own business to deal with and he wasn't part of it, so he was quickly ignored. He wouldn't know what to say if anyone had spoken to him. It was hard to think of anything but the dancing.

He should tell someone what he'd seen. Numbly, he looked around for the storm cloud with the ATTF he'd spoken to earlier, but couldn't pick it out from the crowd.

There was one "face" in the crowd he distantly recognized: a harried-looking vending machine filled with planets and moons—VENDOR, the Axolotl was pretty sure. Some politician. THEY were irritably shifting THEIR worlds back and forth on THEIR spiral racks as THEY spoke to one of the ATTF's many apocalypse cops; THEY'd already vended five planets that the apoc cop had cradled in their tentacles. As the Axolotl swam past the duo in search of the cloud, he heard VENDOR snapping, "—I'll have you know elections are coming up again. The last thing I need is Municipalitron suggesting this lackluster response to a gaping hole into Dimension Zero is MY fault! By the time those rubbernecking reporters make it around your flimsy barrier, I want to be able to report you've cleaned up this mess—" Was the incinerated Dimension 2 Delta even in THEIR district?

He saw THEM on the news from time to time at cosmic crises like this, providing temporary planets for refugees until they could be moved to other worlds (or, in dire enough circumstances—other dimensions); that must be what THEY were here for now. It tended to get THEM a lot of good press. The Axolotl didn't know how much of it was deserved.

To the Axolotl's further distaste, there were also cops here now—not the apoc cops, they were fine, but cop-cops: he saw one crablike being with red and blue mushrooms growing out from where his eyes used to be, and two interlocked fiery rings with a hundred distrustful eyes. They were talking to the hapless furred serpent the Axolotl had seen before he'd gone in to investigate Dimension Zero, the one who'd called in the emergency. She didn't look at all comfortable with whatever they were asking. Why the hell did a spontaneously combusting universe call for the police? Who did they think they were going to arrest? Who did they think they could blame for the fire? The fire itself?

Unless they thought it was arson?

There was the storm cloud: it was talking to another apoc cop, a floating flock of sheep with an ATTF badge pinned in their rain-soaked wool. The Axolotl headed their direction—but paused at the sight of the triangle's sun.

Before Dimension 2 Delta had burned, the little triangle's two-dimensional home planet had been illuminated by a sun shining down on it from the third dimension—a sun no one but the triangle could see. With 2Δ gone, the third dimension was slowly falling into Dimension Zero's nauseating threshold; and in the time the Axolotl had been talking to the triangle, his sun had fallen halfway toward the threshold.

He carefully picked it up and nudged it a safe distance back, then shook the sting of heat out of his paws.

Someone said, "Hold on, you're the one who defaced the Department of Multiversal Vehicles' office!"

The Axolotl turned to look. VENDOR had apparently ganged up with the cops against the serpent. He groaned under his breath.

Looking between the trio with panic in her eyes and clutching her spray paint can anxiously to her underbelly, the serpent was saying, "Okay, okay, maybe I was out here to do a little graffiti—"

The Axolotl winced and muttered, "Oh, don't voluntarily confess anything." The cloud could wait. He hurried in their direction.

"—but I hadn't actually started anything when the dimension caught on fire! I mean—all right maybe I'd done a couple of tags, but only in vacuum, nowhere near any stars! And the fire started way off from where I was—"

"That sounds likely," VENDOR said.

"You've already got a rap sheet for vandalism," the crablike cop said. "Decided to try out arson—?"

The tentacled apoc cop who'd been speaking to VENDOR earlier cut into the conversation. "Lay off, we've already checked her out. The combustible material in a can of spray paint would only take out a solar system at most. Do you have any idea, any idea, just how much power it takes to burn a whole dimension?"

The dual fiery rings wheeled aggressively in front of the apoc cop. "You let us do our job, calamari. Just focus on doing your own."

"Don't mind if I do," the Axolotl said. He put himself between the accused criminal and the gods of punishment, gills flared and curled forward. "I believe this serpent was a witness to the fire. Is she under arrest?" (He could feel some of the mental numbness wearing off, the horror loosen its grip on his heart as he focused on doing his job.)

VENDOR took one look at him and scoffed. "Oh, you. I know who you are," THEY said. "I suppose this is one of your pro bono clients." All one hundred and two of the cops' eyes immediately snapped to the Axolotl.

Why did everyone think that today? "No," the Axolotl said exasperatedly, "she's not. But I do know her rights. Including her right not to answer any of your questions." (The serpent's jaw snapped shut.) "Do you?"

The cops both bristled. VENDOR drew THEMSELF up to THEIR full height (which was the same height THEY'd already been, a metal brick being rather inflexible like that) and prepared to retort—but THEIR internal camera caught on something just to the Axolotl's side. "Oh, no. Not her."

The Axolotl turned. Hovering in the void behind them, so small and translucent she'd be unnoticeable if not for the faint pinkish glow she gave off, was an astrally-projected mortal soul: a four-armed salamander-like woman with a robe and a string of beads wrapped around one wrist. She opened her eyes, blinking up at the Axolotl.

"Oracle," the Axolotl said, half greeting, half a surprised query. The Oracle bowed her head to him.

To the mortals she served, the Oracle was a priestess who received messages from a god: prophecies to help her people understand the divine and navigate the future. To the beings powerful enough to get called gods, the Oracle was essentially one in a long line of intern news bloggers that the Axolotl occasionally had coffee with to discuss local politics and court cases. His Oracles were almost always low-level mortal criminals who had gotten themselves involved in enough trouble to attract gods' attention, but whom he'd taken under his fin to help get out of that life before they graduated to crimes against reality. The Axolotl thought it was important to offer mortals help before they crossed a line they could never uncross, and important to keep an open conduit of information between higher and lower planes. He thought the people who had the power to shape reality owed transparency to the people living in the realities they shaped.

Not everyone agreed.

"You smuggled your reporter past the barricade," VENDOR said accusatorially. (The cops visibly flinched at the word "reporter," the crablike one nervously clacking his claws and the ringed one's many eyes widening.)

"No, I had no idea she was coming." Which was unusual. Usually, the Axolotl visited the Oracle in her sleep to catch her up on his day's work and how it might affect mortal affairs; it wasn't often the Oracle sought him out first.

"Well, I'm not making a statement." VENDOR abruptly turned THEIR back to the Axolotl and his Oracle. "If anyone asks, no comment. I'm not commenting on the current incident." The cops also took the opportunity to quietly slink off. The Axolotl watched them go, making sure they didn't find someone new to bully as they left.

The Oracle shot VENDOR and the cops a puzzled look. The Axolotl said, "Don't worry about THEM. Why are you here?"

"Our seers have had premonitions. Could you enlighten us on their meaning?" the Oracle asked.

"Of course. What did they see?"

"They've received visions of an explosion in the... sky..." She trailed off, staring in wonder at the gap into Dimension Zero behind the incinerated wall. "Is... that the explosion?"

Before the Axolotl could answer, the storm cloud he'd been looking for swept past to loom over her. She flinched as her view of her god was suddenly blocked by a torrential thunderstorm, and flinched again as a sunbeam pierced the clouds to shine directly upon her and a serious voice boomed down from the tempestuous heavens: "Your people witnessed it?"

"There you are," the Axolotl said. "I was looking for you—"

The cloud pointed at him with a finger of lightning. "I'll get your statement second. Mortal's first. They don't last as long." (The Axolotl didn't think the Oracle was going to die of old age in the time it would take him to explain what he'd seen in Dimension Zero, but he didn't argue.) It said to the tentacled god, "Get those planets out to the flat worlders. The flock's already out there."

"On it." They tightened their tentacles around the worlds VENDOR had already passed over, and quickly scuttled off toward the line of blue light on the interdimensional horizon.

The storm asked the Oracle, "Can you describe what happened?"

"Uh..." She looked around nervously, trying to find the source of the voice, not realizing it came from the storm itself. "That's... what I came here to find out."

The Axolotl slipped his tail over her as an umbrella. (He needed the water, anyway; he'd been too close to too many fires today.) "Just tell it what your seers saw, like you were telling me. You may be able to help us."

"Help how?"

"None of us directly witnessed the 'explosion' your seers did."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "How do the gods not witness something?"

The Axolotl hesitated. "Even gods' eyes aren't all-seeing." He decided he didn't want the first thing he told his Oracle about the situation to be that all the gods that could have directly witnessed the "explosion" had been killed by it.

As the Oracle spoke, the storm cloud took notes in a damp notepad it kept steady with a current of air, burning the information onto the pages with a thread of lightning that meandered across the page like a Tesla coil. VENDOR, who'd backed out of "interviewing" range but not out of hearing range, partially turned to listen to her statement. (And while the other gods were distracted, the furred serpent quietly slunk off, trying to hide her spray paint as she did; the Axolotl didn't call attention to her. If the storm needed anything else from her, no doubt it had already gotten her contact info. Better that she go before the cops circled back to harass her some more.)

The Oracle said that her people's seers had seen a whole patch of the sky burning bright blue and collapsing together, the edges going black and the center growing impossibly bright, until everything sank into the center—and then went dark. Only once it was dark could they see what the light had been concealing: behind the collapsed patch of sky, there was a sea of seething colors. (The assembled group tried not to stare too obviously at the multicolored miasma that used to be Dimension Zero.) One seer had gone blind staring straight into the light, trying to discover anything about its nature.

The cloud asked, "And did she see anything important?"

The Oracle said hesitantly, as though not sure whether this detail mattered: "She said the light was... triangular."

A chill settled over the Axolotl.

The cloud stopped, perplexed. "Huh." And then it dutifully burned that information down as well.

(Maybe it was nothing; triangles were very common symbols, lots of phenomena naturally formed triangles. Or maybe what she'd seen was whatever the triangle had done to try to save his people. Or maybe, maybe....)

While the cloud was focused on taking down its notes, the Oracle dragged her eyes from the tumbling colors of Dimension Zero and turned to the Axolotl. "We're worried about what these visions mean." She switched from interviewee to interviewer, all journalistic professionalism. "What did they see? What was this explosion?"

The Axolotl focused on the question to push the triangle from his mind. His eyes began to glow, as he recited:

"The multiverse is layered planes,

Stacked to bear existence's strains.

1D pillars, 2D walls,

3D rooms in 4D halls;

On a 0D foundation:

That's reality's construction.

One wall falls into the basement,

It can shake the whole apartment.

But other walls can still load-bear

Until the gods can make repairs."

"Okay... Thank you. And—our plane is 3D?"

"That's right."

The Oracle took notes of her own: one of her four hands spun in loose loops, like an absent-minded conductor. In her physical body, she'd be holding a marker in a trance, copying down the prophecy the Axolotl had given her. No doubt it would be in the mortal papers on her world by tomorrow. The Axolotl thought it was better that the mortals know there was something wrong but that the people who had the power to do something about it were on the job, rather than just worry without answers. (Again, he was sometimes in the minority opinion. VENDOR was managing to give him the stink eye without a face.) "Is the multiverse actually structured like an apartment complex?"

"No," the Axolotl said. "It's a helpful visual metaphor." And it had rhymed with basement.

"But... this is something you can fix?"

"It is. There are gods of space and doomsday already here working to stabilize the foundation and repair the fallen wall." (VENDOR's lights flickered a bit brighter at the positive acknowledgment to the press.)

"Gods of doomsday?" She gave him an alarmed look.

"It's a misleading title. The ones here work to prevent accidental apocalypses."

"You're underselling the severity of the issue," the storm cloud muttered, not looking up from its notes. "This isn't your run-of-the-mill cosmic repair job. A second dimension's fully collapsed into the zeroth dimension. That's a plane packed into a point. That shouldn't be possible. It's destabilized everything built on top of the zeroth dimension—which means the entire multiverse." (VENDOR tried to shush it. It didn't acknowledge THEM.) "Plus, this fire is kicking our collective butts. One- and two-dimensional gods are getting incinerated, not even afterlives and underworlds are escaping the fire, reality itself is at risk of collapsing, we still don't know what's doing it—"

VENDOR let out a beep that was as loud as a car alarm. "Is there any reason the mortals need to know that!"

"Ehh... not that I can think of." The cloud glanced up from its notes. "They're powerless to do anything about it. It'd just make them worry about something that's out of their h..." Its roving sunbeams caught on the Oracle, still diligently taking notes on this out-of-control fire. "Oh."

Quietly, the Oracle asked, "You're sure the multiverse will be fine? If this fire even kills gods..."

The Axolotl paused. "I was more sure a second ago."

"It'll stand," the storm cloud said grimly, "but if we can't stop the fires, not for long. We've called out every god we can to help, but..."

"It should stand," VENDOR said quickly. "I'm sure the other walls are fine—I've personally seen to it that we're rigorous about maintaining our dimensions' structural integrity."

The cloud's sunbeam aimed ruefully at the missing wall. "Good work," it muttered.

VENDOR rounded angrily on it, "Well all the preventative cosmic inspections in the multiverse are useless if the inspectors didn't do their job right! Which they clearly didn't!"

The cloud raised a wall of fog defensively.

VENDOR paced in an angry figure 8 as THEY fumed, "It's incompetence all around! I'll bet anything it was electricians who miswired the laws of electromagnetism and shorted them out, or—or something! A properly constructed load-bearing wall imploding, much less dumping into the center of reality, just doesn't happen! And nobody noticed the danger?"

"We can't rule out the possibility of terrorism yet," the cloud said.

VENDOR rounded on the cloud to demand, "What terrorist would risk destroying the multiverse?!"

Angry lightning danced around its tornado. "How should I freaking know! A stupid one?!"

"Hah! That's all you've got?! The dimensions might have been burned by a stupid terrorist?" THEY turned on the Oracle. "Do not print that!"

Her hand froze mid-loop.

Thunder rumbled in the storm cloud. "Look, apocalypse Origin & Cause is still investigating, and the cosmic engineering inspector isn't here yet. If you'd give us five nanoseconds to do our jobs—!"

"What do you mean, isn't here yet! What's taking them so long?"

"I just put in the call—"

"That's no excuse, they ought to have been here before you called! Do engineers have time tapes or not!" VENDOR let out several irritated beeps as THEIR internal motors ground in irritation. "Probably dragging their heels because they didn't do their job properly before the dimension fell! Oh, I'm going to give them a piece of my mind." THEY charged off, still muttering, "I'll have the heads of the last inspector and the lazy subcontractors who didn't build this dimension up to code! If this does anything to jeopardize my reelection— You there, police!" (The crab cop, who'd attempted to make himself useful by eyeing the reporters still outside the cordon menacingly, started at being directly addressed again.) "I need your assistance! I need someone to hold up a phone for me."

The Axolotl gave THEM a wide berth as THEY passed. Even as a god who almost exclusively dealt with the dead, this level of devastation left the Axolotl stunned with horror. But VENDOR's biggest concern wasn't the loss of life? Nor the threat to public safety posed by the exposed and mutated Dimension Zero? It was a stupid election?

He made a mental note to look into Municipalitron's policies before the next election.

Quietly, the Oracle asked, "Are you safe here? If there's a fire that can even kill gods..."

When the storm had told the Axolotl about 2Δ's fire, it had said not even gods and ghosts made it out— The Axolotl's frills perked up. "Right, I came back here to tell it— Er, yes, I think I'm safe—but I need to tell—" He turned to the storm cloud, "I haven't told you what I saw yet!"

"Oh, right—I meant to congratulate you on coming back alive." It flipped to a new page in its notepad. "Congrats."

"You said that everyone in 2Δ died," the Axolotl said.

"They did. I can guarantee it." It grew its tornado to pantomime an expanding ring: "The readings Origin & Cause have gotten so far indicate that an enormous gravitational wave from the spontaneous combustion event's epicenter tore the universe apart. Imagine gluing a bunch of corn chips to a tablecloth, pulling the tablecloth tight from both sides, and dragging the tablecloth straight down off one end of the table. It'd shatter all the chips as they passed over the table's edge. Destroyed everyone and everything in that universe, on every plane. Landscape, mindscape, dreamscape..."

"Well," the Axolotl said, with the edge of triumph he got whenever he figured out how to rip a prosecutor's witness in half, "I found survivors. So how's that possible?"

He expected surprise. Instead, the cloud bobbed up and down in recognition, as though the Axolotl were confirming something it already knew.

On the other hand, from half a solar system away, VENDOR shouted indignantly, "I beg your pardon?!" THEY leaned away from the phone the cop was holding for THEM. "How many?" THEY began rotating through THEIR internal selection of planets.

"Two or three million," the Axolotl called back.

VENDOR huffed irritably and switched to looking through their collection of much smaller, rockier astronomical bodies. "Hardly worth a moon, much less a planet," THEY muttered. "From Dimension 2 Delta, I assume."

"No," the storm cloud said. "Everyone in 2Δ is dead. He must've found the poor suckers getting dragged down from the other dimensions."

The Axolotl stared at it. "Dragged down from what?"

Before the cloud could answer, the flock of sheep it had been speaking to earlier called, "Boss?" They had clearly just come from the direction of the bright blue line on the horizon—and their fleeces was now stained with soot. "We're losing refugees even faster in Dimension 2 Epsilon, what's the new plan?" Dimension 2 Epsilon?

The Axolotl felt a chill wind blow off the storm cloud; but its voice was just as hard as ever as it said, "I'll check it out myself." Its sunbeam pointed toward the Axolotl. "Maybe you oughta come along, I can explain it on the way." it said. "Just you." And the beam drifted down to highlight the Oracle.

"Yes, I understand."

Its bright gaze turned toward the apoc flock. "Hold down the fort until we get back."

"Got it, boss."

The Axolotl turned to the Oracle and said quietly, "You should wake up. I'll contact you with more when I can."

As strongly as he believed the mortals ought to be privy to whatever knowledge the gods had about the crisis, he didn't think traumatizing his Oracle wold benefit anyone.

####

Apparently, the Axolotl had only been told about half the situation. As they traveled along where Dimension 2 Delta used to be, the storm cloud caught him up on the rest. It had been telling the truth about everything in 2Δ being destroyed. It had simply burned too fast and too thoroughly, and it wasn't until the flames reached the edges of the universe and looped back to eat themselves that the inferno began to slow down.

Slow down... but not stop.

Why hadn't the Axolotl realized sooner? Why would there be so many firefighters on the scene, if the fire had gone out before the first ever arrived? What was the distant blue line of light he'd followed until he found the ATTF's center of operations, if not the light of still-burning stars? Why would VENDOR have come to provide new worlds for refugees, if everyone had been so sure 2Δ didn't have any refugees?

When the flames had reached the edge of 2Δ, they'd effortlessly incinerated the first dimensions bordering its edges, like a flame consuming a flash string in a magic trick, and moved straight across to the next second dimensions.

"Dimensions 2 Delta, 1 Gamma-Delta, and 1 Delta-Epsilon were completely incinerated before anyone arrived on the scene," the cloud said. "We lost 1 Alpha-Delta and 1 Delta-Zeta after we got here—it's a miracle the fire didn't cross from 2 Delta over 1 Alpha-Delta into 2 Alpha. 2 Gamma's over ninety percent gone; at this point we're trying to detach it from the closest first dimensions and hoping the flames will stop at its borders. And we're just trying to rescue who we can from 2 Epsilon and 2 Zeta, because every time we start to get the fire under control, it restarts itself."

The Axolotl felt sick. Five dimensions had been destroyed? Three more dimensions were still burning—one on the verge of being lost?

"Some of your survivors must've been dragged down into Dimension Zero," it went on. "Or into the miasma around it. I guess you must not have run into Zero itself in there, or else you wouldn't be here to tell us about it."

"I don't think Dimension Zero is in that miasma; I think the miasma is Dimension Zero. It had some properties of a spaciotemporal singularity... except it's... big. Big but—all in one place. And there's time happening, but all in one moment." He was in no fit state to try to explain this. He wasn't sure he even understood himself.

"Huh," the storm said. "Never seen anything like that before. I guess that explains where the rubble from 2Δ went, but—I have no idea how the physics in there must be working."

"I didn't see any rubble. Would there be any? If everything was destroyed—gods, souls, afterlives, dreams..."

"Subatomic ashes. The dimension's matter still oughta be somewhere."

He tried to remember if he'd seen anything that might be subatomic ashes. All he could remember was the three dimensional stars and stardust that had fallen in—and the party, and the bleeding. "If it was there, I wouldn't know how to sense it."

By the time they reached the edge of Dimension 2 Epsilon, and a 2D plane once more safely covered up the shifting border of Dimension Zero, the distant line of light had grown into a sea of pallid blue flame: the hydrogen of countless two dimensional stars burning as their universe crumbled and crunched up. In the distance, beyond the fire's perimeter, the Axolotl could see the still-unburned flat constellations and nebulas—and the divine firefighters chopping and hacking the universe in twain ahead of the fire edge. He realized that fire crews he'd seen nervously milling about earlier were just a skeleton crew: the real firefighting force was out here.

The flames seemed reluctant to lick up into the third dimension; they clung hard to the second dimensions, barely even radiating heat into the neighboring universe. There was an eerie focused calm to the gods trying to stop the fires below—all the devastation beneath them, close enough to touch, and yet not touching them. Yet.

Even as many firefighters as were out here trying to get the fire under control, they couldn't cover the entire perimeter; and so the storm cloud lead the Axolotl right up to the fire edge along a span that the stretched-thin firefighting force didn't currently have covered. They were close enough that a few of the storm's raindrops fell on the fire, making it sizzle out in some small spots, only for the inferno to roar back to life a moment later.

The storm spoke for the first time in several minutes: "I can't begin to tell you how, but it's like the fire's fighting back against us. Every time the fire crews get even a little bit under control, it erupts again. We've had to start breaking off the burning portions of reality to keep the fires from spreading to the rest of the dimension," it gestured at the gods at work cracking off an enormous slab of existence from the rest of the dimension to create a chasm half a galaxy wide between the fire and the as yet still safe portion of the universe. The separated portion buckled and bubbled in the fire like a melting piece of plastic. "And... even that's not enough. Cosmic fires aren't my speciality—but I'm told breaking a dimension is guaranteed to stop a fire. But this one just keeps finding a way to... jump across."

"What do you mean, 'jump across'?"

On the safe side of the chasm, at least a lightyear away, a perfectly well-behaved solar system randomly burst into a geyser of flames.

"Oh."

Firefighters rushed to the newly burning star. Several planets had already blackened, curled up, and crumbled to ashes. The ashes rained down into Dimension Zero.

The storm cloud turned their path toward the new fire, the Axolotl following close behind. "They don't even always pop up near the fire edge like this." (As though a flame jumping an entire lightyear away could be called "near.") "Half a dozen popped up at random throughout Dimension 2 Gamma before we even realized how this fire moved. And as if that isn't bad enough, if the fire isn't targeting mortals, I'll eat my fedora."

This time, the Axolotl decided not to tempt fate by asking how a fire could target anything.

The firefighters struggled to contain the new fire with a line of 3D flame-retardant foam. They weren't even trying to put the fire out, he realized; they'd given up the solar system for lost. They were only trying to keep the fire back from one planet: a disc-shaped world, already cracked from the way the heat had warped and bent this dimension's surface, surrounded by billions of glittery flecks. People. His frills flicked forward in alarm.

Rescuers were using planet-sized planes to scoop the bewildered two-dimensional people off their endangered dimension, like spatulas trying to rescue a pancake from a skillet in the fires of hell, and handing them off to other rescuers to relocate to one of the refugee planets VENDOR had supplied. But as the storm and Axolotl caught up the fire somehow found a way past the solid wall of 3D foam to ignite the moon orbiting the hapless planet.

And as if that wasn't enough, it sprung up on the people, too. The screaming populations of entire towns spontaneously caught fire. To his horror, the Axolotl understood now what the storm had meant by the fires targeting mortals. Reality warped and bent beneath them, twisting, melting; burning people were crushed together by the distortions in reality and fused together into dozen-mouthed wailing bodies. The overburdened plane of reality ripped and disintegrated like threadbare fabric over a candle, and people fell screaming into Dimension Zero before they could be caught.

The storm cloud flinched back with a flash of lightning. "Shoot—it is getting faster."

The Axolotl automatically lunged forward to help them. A split-second wall of shrieking lightning blocked his path and a gust of wind pushed him back. "Don't," the storm snapped. "Leave it to the professionals."

"Sorry." The Axolotl backed up a safe distance with the storm cloud, stomach twisting. "Is there any way I can help—?"

"No," the storm cloud said quickly. "This fire can pop up anywhere—it's already caught four firefighters, and they're trained to deal with this stuff. We can't risk it spreading to the third dimension."

He hated not helping—but unfortunately, he understood. "How did you put out the fires on the firefighters?"

"We didn't. We threw them into Dimension Zero."

The storm was right; there was nothing natural about a fire that could kill gods.

"I've gotta go find out the latest," it said. "Can you stay out of trouble for a few minutes?"

"Yes. I promise." Although it might be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

The storm cloud left the Axolotl; and the Axolotl watched the fire.

####

It went against every instinct in his body not to reach out to scoop up the falling dead.

He'd worked for eons as a psychopomp before switching to a career that gave him more of a voice in what happened to the souls he escorted. He'd met billions of species with billions of different ways of dying; he wasn't squeamish around corpses, injuries, rot, disease. He was comfortable around death. Heck, he and death had each other's phone numbers for emergencies—they regularly crossed paths at professional networking events.

But there were some deaths worse than others, and there were fates worse than death. As he watched, an oval with thin little arms plummeted into a direction it couldn't even see, its body burning up; and then its ghost burned up, too. It would never join the eternal dance party, and the Axolotl wasn't sure whether it was the lucky one.

As he watched, the Axolotl noticed something strange. Like any populated world, there were probably millions to trillions of different species around this one, although at a glance the Axolotl could only spy a handful. But although all of them were eventually caught by the flames, there was only one species that seemed to be victim of spontaneous combustion—and that seemed to be falling into Dimension Zero: the people that looked like living geometric shapes.

When the storm returned, it was quieter; even its tornado spun more slowly. The Axolotl got the sense it hadn't received good news.

But it didn't share what it had received. It said, "I've seen my fair share of apocalypses, but I've never seen anything like this before. Whatever this fire is, it's not natural." The eye of the storm watched one of the melting people falling like cinders into the center of the multiverse, until even its sunbeam couldn't pierce the miasma. "Ten to one, I'd bet you something intelligent is doing that."

"Your stupid terrorist?"

The cloud laughed ruefully. "Yeah." It watched a moment longer; then sighed out a long gust of wind and tried to rally some of its earlier stoicism. "So. Those people you saw in Dimension Zero must be the mortals from the dimensions around 2Δ getting dragged in by the fire. You can see how they've been peeling off their planes when the flames get 'em. I'm amazed they survived the fall into Dimension Zero."

"Survived" maybe wasn't the word the Axolotl would choose; but he didn't know how to begin to explain the horrors he'd seen down there.

He tore his eyes from the terrible rain of corpses. "Not all of them," he said. "I know for a fact at least one of the survivors is from 2Δ. I know him. I've met him before."

"You have." The storm managed to look dubious at this. "You're sure it wasn't an alternate of the same guy from a neighboring dimension?"

"I talked to him in Dimension 2 Delta. He remembered meeting me. It's him."

"Huh." The storm processed that silently. "Nope. I've got no explanation for that."

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 2 of a 5-or-6 part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. Here's part one if you missed it. I'm posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl slowly discover just how much of a monster that silly triangle he likes really is.

It's ALSO chapter 61 PART TWO of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. I'm gonna fix the chapter numbering once I know how many chapters this plot is. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a oneshot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: nobody commented on the fact that I was calling Bill's dimension "Dimension 2 Delta" rather than just "the second dimension"—but I hope that, somewhere in your hearts, some of you were wondering what I had to differentiate his dimension from that necessitated labeling it Delta. :)

I think this is probably the least horrifying out of all the chapters. Because of that, I'm worried it's kinda boring, but that might just be because I'm comparing it to the undead corpse party. And also Bill isn't here.

It's also the least edited chapter because I may or may not have spent the last three days drawing the second dimension burning instead of writing and ran 30 minutes past posting time doing last minute rewrites lmao. So uh, lemme know if there are any typos, sentences that don't make sense because I changed how I wanted to phrase them halfway through and didn't notice, weird internal contradictions, whatever.

But more importantly let me know what y'all think!!)

#the axolotl #gravity falls axolotl #the book of bill #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(i think this is only the second chapter I've written so far that features ZERO Bill.)#(which is strange considering how heavily Bill's influence looms over the chapter)#(should i go ahead and tag him anyway since he is such an enormous invisible presence? yeah sure why not)#bill cipher

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ssahotchnerr · 9 months ago

Note

Mom!friend reader bringing everyone cute lunches at the bau with personalized little notes for each person 😭 maybe hotch doesn’t even know that you do this for the others too so when someone mentions readers cooking, he’s like “wat”

personalized

ADORABLE cw; bau!fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of food, fluff and aaron being cute <3

the pace at which aaron was moving must've been more intense than he intended and realized; as he hurried past jj's desk, the small draft that followed caused a small piece of paper to flutter to the ground.

uttering an apology, aaron immediately reached down to pick it up. however it had landed face up, and his eyebrows furrowed in small confusion as he caught a glimpse of its contents.

your familiar handwriting kept his eyes, instead of peering away as he normally would - 'my sweet jj! thank you so much for your help on the arizona case file, you're a total lifesaver and your expertise is always appreciated, hope you know that. enjoy <3 ps - your new lavender sweater is the cutest. must plan a shopping day w/ pen soon!'

aaron's eyebrows stayed in that confused line, his eyes shifting up to jj's in a silent question.

"came with the cookies." jj answered for him, pointing her head towards the tupperware container perched on her desktop.

instantly aaron's mind made the connection - so that's why you were up late baking. that made more sense; the time you had spent baking was much too long for the small plateful quantity he had found reserved for him and jack this morning.

"pretty girl sure knows how to cook." derek added into the conversation as he approached the cluster of desks, raising his hand to pat aaron on the back but stopped himself halfway - aaron shot him a pointed look, hiding his own amusement, while jj attempted to conceal her smile with her palm.

another eyebrow furrow. "and when have you had her cooking?"

"here and there. always comes with a note too. i could just about fill a desk drawer with how many i have." derek admitted, with his signature, vivid grin. "she may be yours, we get special treatment too, y'know."

a bit later, you strolled into aaron's office, juggling numerous files in your hands.

"as requested," you started, dropping them firmly onto aaron's desk. "five action reports, minus dave's. he told me when you're as experienced and italian as he is, you can slack off and kinda get away with it. but i think that's his fancy way of admitting he's old." you joked with a eye roll.

"thank you," aaron flashed you a smile, sorting through his current papers. assuming that was all, you spun on your heel to head out and return to the everlasting joy of paperwork, but, aaron's voice stopped you.

"hey hold it, c'mere a sec."

you pulled back one of the chairs in front of hiss desk, the legs producing a scraping noise against the floorboards, but aaron gestured for you to come around. your eyes darted in the direction of his open blinds, then back at him. 'you sure?'

aaron nodded in confirmation. and if you needed any more convincing, once in reach you were pulled onto his lap, his hold on you tight.

if he wasn't being a stickler on the open affection, neither were you; you relaxed yourself against him just as you would normally, your body melting into his and throwing your arms loosely around his neck. "what's up?"

"i didn't know you wrote the team notes."

"oh," you laughed softly, with a light shake of your head. by habit your fingers ran along the skin of aaron's neck, scratching the nape of his hair gently. "yeah, if i bring in lunch or a treat or something. or both. or sometimes just because. an appreciation reminder."

aaron nodded, his fingers drumming against your hip comfortably.

"that's not a problem, is it?"

"well," aaron pretended to think, his hand changing motions and sliding up and down your side, "yes."

"actually?" you blurted as your own fingers paused. that wasn't the answer you expected, and it caused a rush of nervous heat to pool within you. until, you saw the feigned, solemn expression on his face.

aaron peered down at you, his playful eyes canceling out the forced pout on his lips. under his breath, he mumbled humorously, "i thought i was the only one getting notes."

you laughed brightly, the joy within the sound immediately bringing a smile to aaron's lips. "oh don't worry, they don't get the lipstick smooch on theirs. that's reserved for you and you only."

"i would hope not."

"or the, occasional... explicitness."

"again, i would hope not." aaron laughed again. his lips graced your temple, lingering gently as he spoke, "you're sweet."

"a very wise, very attractive person once said, 'people need to know they're important'." your lips quirked into a loving smile, a glint in your eyes. "thought this would be an easy way - i learned from the best."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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missnxthingg · 2 months ago

Text

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬, 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 . (𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑼 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵) - 𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 - Little throwback to Lando's win in Miami for the sake of the story. I think we all Lando girlies need to relieve this for a moment 🧡 raise a hand if you miss this moment (bc I surely do).

original chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

yourusername

London, England

yourusername Enjoying some time with my best friend at home 💖

landonorris wonder who gave her that dollhouse 🤔

landonorris my pretty girls, i miss you

↪ yourusername stop whinning and go enjoy ur trip, dickhead (we miss u too) ↪ landofan4 friendship goals fr

ln4stan Ollie is the cutest omg

yourmomusername What lovely ladies! I love you

↪ yourusername we love you, momma

username1 we need to see this duo with lando again

f1gossip

f1gossip Lando Norris is enjoying King's Day with his friend, Martin Garrix, in Amsterdam, and ended up getting his nose injured. What do you think happened?

username1 did he get into a fight????

username2 for fuck sake, we have a race in a week!

username3 omg bless y/n so she can try making his image better for the media in miami

username4 i NEED to know what happened with him

username5 @.yourusername mother, feed us with info, please! 🥺

yourusername added to their stories

Caption: He's well and alive, might kill him later for the scare (just a glass cut, no fighting)

landonorris added to their stories

Caption: This is an apology for making her so concerned about a nose cut

landopriv added to their stories

Caption: Gave her the scare of her life @.yourusername and made up to her after a cuddling afternoon, brunch, NBA game and tomorrow the beach

↪ yourusername replied to your story: all forgiven after the pampering 💘 ↪ landopriv: love you, idiot

yourusername added to their stories

Caption: Who let this idiot bring a camera along with him? Keep him away from me. Every time I blink: FLASH!

↪ landonorris: you're no fun 🙄

yourusername

Miami, Florida

yourusername Miami on film 🏖

landonorris you're as hot as miami, baby

↪ username1 OH MY FUCKING GOD ↪ username2 boy is down bad for her 🥵 ↪ username3 Lando can't even pretend he isn't in love with her anymore ↪ yourusername police he has escaped again

username4 do you guys think he took the photos or that she stole his camera?

↪ username5 he definitely took them! we saw him carrying the camera everywhere and they were at the beach earlier

f1 LANDO NORRIS WINS HIS FIRST GRAND PRIX

landofan HE DID IT GUYS!

mclarengirly OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE

ln4bitch oh man we just know he's gonna party HARD

yourusername I've never been more proud 🥺

↪papayafan y/n please tell lando we love him! 🧡 ↪lanfan4 give him the biggest kiss and the tighest hug for me

landonorris

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1

username1 WE DID IT LANDO!

username2 Longest time coming! Congratulations, Lan 🧡

username3 My man!!! LFG

yourusername I AM THE PROUDEST

yourusername love you so much, you idiot. P FUCKING ONE! 🧡

↪landonorris i love you more, muppet ❤ ↪username4 your honor, i love them ↪username5 MOM AND DAD ARE GIVING PDA

f1gossip

f1gossip Lando Norris and his best friend, Y/N L/N, partying together in Miami after his win. Some people that were at the party reported on our DMs that they didn't keep away from each other all night and were missing from the party for a while. Do you think they celebrated it in a more special way? 💋👀

username1 Lord, I'm ready for them to be a couple

username2 i saw they leaving the club hand in hand last night, guys! they were alone and very much in a hurry to get out of there

↪username3 how do you know if you're telling the truth? ↪username2 you can check my profile, i was at the paddock today and after the gp, my friend and i followed them around town to party too!

username4 i saw this dude that swore they were kissing in the back of the club ln, but it's not something i can 100% confirm

↪username5 Can we please stop speculating on their friendship? They both have expressed they hate when people start forcing a relationship onto them.

username6 at this point, i'm just waiting for y/n's special post for lando on insta

yourusername

Miami, Florida

yourusername I knew you were special on the first time I saw your muppet face in my office. I've been your biggest fan ever since; rooting and praying for this day to finally come. I've never been so proud of you, Lan. Longest time coming to this moment. I love you so much, my grand prix winner – even though you got me so drunk we missed our flight today. Now enjoy some podium pics I took yesterday + a cute one from the hottest duo in Miami last night.

tagged: landonorris

landonorris I love you so much! Can't imagine life without my partner in crime. You being there made everything even more special

↪yourusername Stop or I'll cry again ↪landonorris Will be an honour to make you cry for me twice 😂

username1 GUYS WAKE UP Y/N POSTED ABOUT LAST NIGHT

username2 name a prettier friend duo, i'll wait

↪landonorris me too ↪yourusername me three

yourmotherusername Olivia has been non stop since the finish line! She can't wait to see her favourite uncle ❤ Congratulations, Lando

↪landonorris thank you so much, mrs l/n ❤ and tell ollie uncle lan loves her very very much ↪username3 now we're gonna have to wait until ollie and lando reunion after miami 😭 ↪yourusername promise to come back with pictures

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris social media #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au #ln4 #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #ln4 fic #ln4 smau #ln4 social media #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

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rmadridcore · 15 days ago

Text

The Perfect Pair

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Summary: You and Jude attend his teammate’s documentary premiere, sharing affectionate moments and inside jokes.

Word Count: 1.6K

Masterlist

Author’s note: Hii 😍 this is the first request I got and here it is. Hope you like it anon, let me know your thoughts! Also, if any of you have any fic requests, they’re currently open 🫡❤️

——————————————————————————

Jude was still absorbed in the mirror, meticulously adjusting the gold chains on his white blazer for what seemed like the hundredth time. He leaned in closer, fixing the details around his collar with an intense focus, only to sigh as he took a step back, seemingly still dissatisfied.

“Need any help?” you offered from the edge of the bed, where you’d been patiently waiting for a while now, amused by how the roles had reversed. Typically, he was the one rolling his eyes or letting out exasperated sighs while you perfected your look, but tonight it was his turn, and it made you grin. Jude, the perfectionist.

“Nope, I think I’ve got this,” he said, though he still cast one last look in the mirror. Sighing playfully, you got to your feet, heading toward the door as he finally decided he was ready. Following you, his hand naturally found its place at your lower back, a familiar, grounding gesture.

But, true to form, Jude stopped just shy of the hallway, casting one more glance at himself in the mirror, reaching up to fuss with his hair.

With a laugh, you gently tugged his arm. “Come on, pretty boy; Thibaut’s premiere won’t wait for you,” you teased, practically nudging him out of the house. He chuckled, letting you pull him forward.

“Easy there, woman.” He shot you a mischievous smile, taking the hint. “You’re determined, huh?”

“Well, one of us has to be!” you shot back, a smirk on your lips. Finally, you both slid into the backseat of the car, where Jude wasted no time grabbing your hand, pressing a soft kiss to it before settling it on his lap. He didn’t let go, instead lacing your fingers through his, an automatic, tender gesture that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“You’re actually making me feel underdressed,” you quipped, admiring his outfit. His white blazer, adorned with gold chains, was stunning — daring but elegant, and perfectly Jude. Your black slip dress and chunky gold jewelry matched his look subtly, but next to him, you felt almost modest.

He leaned in, his eyes gleaming with admiration. “Are you kidding? Even in sweatpants with your hair messy, you’d be the one stealing the show.” He lifted your hand to his lips once more, letting his kiss linger, his gaze conveying warmth and adoration. “You’ll have all eyes on you tonight, I’m sure of it.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling as you looked back at him. “We’ll share the spotlight, then. You kind of have a way of commanding a room too, you know?”

Jude laughed, his eyes dancing with humor. “Guess we have that in common.”

As you arrived at the venue, the energy was electric, with photographers and fans milling about. Inside, you spotted some of Jude’s teammates with their partners, each looking like they were attending a completely different event. Jude’s grin widened when he spotted Kylian in a casual jacket and jeans combo, Rodrygo in a bold silk shirt, and some of the other guys in wildly different styles. It was the perfect example of when the friend group skips the “What are we wearing?” conversation.

“Talk about no dress code,” Jude whispered to you with a laugh, shaking his head.

Finally, it was time for the red carpet. Jude walked out beside you, smiling and waving as you made your way along the velvet ropes. When you reached the photographers, he wrapped an arm around your waist, drawing you close. Jude had no intention of hiding how smitten he was, and the cameras seemed to love it. He tilted his head down, pressing his cheek against your temple as the flashes went off.

The red carpet is abuzz with flashing cameras and reporters calling out, all of them eager to get a good shot of Jude and you. As you step onto the carpet together, you feel his hand tighten around yours, pulling you just a little closer to his side. It’s a simple gesture, but with the crowd and the chaos, his closeness gives you a strange sense of calm.

“Jude, over here!” a photographer calls out, and Jude flashes a bright smile, giving a friendly wave before looking back at you, his eyes lighting up.

“You good?” he murmurs, leaning down just close enough that you catch the warmth of his breath.

“Yeah,” you laugh, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks. “But I think you’re the one they’re all here to see, superstar.”

“Not without you, I’m not,” he chuckles, his eyes softening as he looks down at you, and then, without missing a beat, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in for the photos. Jude’s arm is secure around you, and every time a photographer calls his name, he seems just as focused on making sure you’re smiling right there beside him.

“Now, give me your best smile,” he whispers with a teasing grin, nudging you playfully with his hip.

“I was smiling perfectly fine,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. But you can’t help but laugh anyway, and the flashbulbs capture the moment.

After a few more shots, you instinctively step to the side, ready to let Jude have his solo photos. But the second he realizes you’ve moved away, he reaches out and catches your wrist, pulling you right back to his side.

“Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere,” he says with that smirk of his, his hand slipping from your wrist back to the small of your back.

“Jude,” you laugh, flustered. “They’re here for you!”

“Maybe so, but I’m here for you,” he says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. The flashes go wild as he does, and you catch the gleam in his eye as he realizes it.

“Don’t give them too much,” you murmur, laughing as he pulls you close enough that his cheek brushes yours.

“They should know who I’m with,” he replies, his voice softer now, but still that playful tone. “Besides, you make me look better.”

You laugh again, feeling that mix of nerves and warmth spread through you, and the photographers eat it up, the two of you sharing smiles and whispers that the cameras try to capture. His thumb rubs gently against your lower back as he holds you close, a soft, intimate gesture that you don’t even think he’s aware of.

The crowd calls his name again, and he takes one more photo with you by his side before pulling you just slightly to look at him. “All good?” he asks, tilting his head as if to check in, the sincerity in his eyes grounding you amidst all the chaos.

“All good,” you reply, giving him a nod. “But I’ll let you have your solo shot.”

“Not happening,” he replies, laughing as he keeps you right by his side.

And with his hand in yours and that grin on his face, you realize that there’s nowhere else either of you would rather be.

The premiere had gone off without a hitch. You’d both enjoyed the documentary, laughed and mingled with his teammates and their partners, and Jude, as always, had been the life of the evening. Now, sitting in the car with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you feel the warmth of the night and the buzz of excitement slowly easing away into a comfortable, quiet intimacy.

You lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment as the city lights streak past outside. Jude’s hand rests lightly on your shoulder, his thumb tracing soft circles against the fabric of your dress. His warmth is familiar, grounding, and in the stillness, you feel a smile tug at the corner of your mouth.

“Tired?” he asks, his voice soft, and you nod without lifting your head, letting out a content sigh.

“It’s your fault, you know,” you tease, nudging him slightly. “You dragged me to the after party, and I ended up listening to you all argue about who was the best dressed for half the night.”

Jude chuckles, his hand moving to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “Please, you know it was all about showing you off,” he says with a grin, glancing down at you. “And, by the way, I was clearly the best-dressed.”

“Oh, obviously,” you say with a laugh, turning your face toward him so that your nose brushes against his shoulder. “Though I think you’re just fishing for compliments at this point.”

“Maybe I am.” He squeezes your shoulder a bit tighter, leaning his head back to look at you more fully, his eyes softening as they meet yours. “But, hey, I had a pretty great date tonight.”

You feel the blush creep up your cheeks, and you roll your eyes, trying to brush off the flattery. “You say that because you’re biased.”

“No, I say it because it’s true,” he murmurs, his voice warm and sincere now, that teasing edge gone. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Best date I’ve had, actually. Thanks for coming with me, my love.”

The quiet honesty in his words makes your heart skip a beat. You tighten your grip on his hand, your smile growing as you gaze up at him. “Anytime, babe.”

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, pulling you closer, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence as the car glides through the night, your fingers entwined and your hearts in sync.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude imagines #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #football player x reader #football fic #imagine #requested

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azen13 · 2 months ago

Text

CW: Yandere Themes

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yandere!Alhaitham x Endangered Animal Hybrid!Reader...

It starts off innocently enough. After escaping a group of Treasure Hoarders looking to sell you off to whoever would pay the most, you find yourself lost in Gandharva Ville for several days until Tighnari finds you. Knowing that you're at risk of being poached due to your rarity, but also knowing that keeping you—a feral, dangerous, and intelligent being—in close proximity to Collei is a bad idea, the Forest Ranger writes to Alhaitham asking him to house you and keep an eye on you.

After several letters sent back and forth over the course of days, it only takes a little bit of begging on Tighnari's part to convince Alhaitham to look after you for a month. Soon enough, you're moving in and sulking around the confines of your new "home", a pout on your face at the fact that you can't escape. After all, for all your strength and agility, Alhaitham possesses a vision and a powerful intellect. You're outmatched.

Despite your attitude, Alhaitham pays you little mind. He makes sure you're fed, hydrated, and healthy, but rarely speaks more than one or two sentences at a time when talking to you. Over the days, the two of you warm up to one another a little, but nothing noticeable changes in the Scribe's demeanor.

Until he comes home one day to you sitting on a sofa, a book plucked from his personal collection spread on your lap. An Introductory Guide to Zoology, the title reads. After a moment, your ears perk up, registering the door creaking. In a flash, you turn to face him, shock painted bright red across your face.

For a few seconds, all you can hear is the battering ram that is your heartbeat smashing against your mind, chastising you for being so stupid. Now you'd be thrown out and defenseless, with plenty of dangerous people who'd jump at the chance to earn a pretty penny by pawning off a rare hybrid such as yourself.

"S-sorry," you say, shaky hands shutting the cover. But before you can, Alhaitham is quick to grab hold of the book, keeping it open.

He's so close to you, to the point where you can see the rise and fall of his chest, the sheen of sweat on his forehead from walking home in the warm weather, the pure intrigue in his eyes at this new discovery.

You intrigue him.

His eyes narrow slightly. "I didn't know you could read?" He glances at the text, discerning what exactly you're studying—if you are studying at all, that is.

You nod. "I learned when I was very young," you say, your own eyes slowly falling to the floor, willing this conversation to be over. Luckily, the divine seem to answer your prayer and Alhaitham simply shrugs and walks away.

Little do you know, the spark of curiosity he allowed you to see had already grown into a roaring fire, burning with the desire to know you. He could hardly call his interest rational, though he does his best to find justifications and act like he believes them.

The month flies by, and you continue to believe that all is well in the world. You've just begun looking through your few belongings, trying to decide what to keep and what to get rid of before you move out, when Alhaitham enters the doorway. "Tighnari told me that you plan to leave in less than a week."

Looking up from the knick-knacks you own, you turn to Alhaitham. "Yeah. I was planning to go back to Gandharva Ville and live there for a few months," you say, your attention beginning to shift back to your possessions. Conversations with Alhaitham mostly ended after one or two sentences, and you had no reason to believe that this conversation would be any different.

"About that." Alhaitham's voice breaks through your focus like glass. "There have been reports from the Matra of increased poaching in the areas around Gandharva Ville. I'm not forcing you to stay, and neither is Tighnari, but we won't be able to protect you there as well as we can here," he says.

You frown. You had been looking forward to leaving for so long now, tired of being cooped up inside Alhaitham's home with only brief walks outside—under the Acting Grand Sage's supervision, of course—to break up the boredom, only to learn that it would be dangerous to leave the city.

"I...I suppose if it's okay, I'd like to stay," you say after a moment of mental debate.

For a moment, you swear you can see the corners of Alhaitham's lips quirk upwards.

"I'll inform Tighnari of your decision as soon as possible." As per usual, after a moment of silence, Alhaitham walks away.

Time seems to fly by in increasingly rapid intervals. One week becomes two. Two weeks becomes four. Four weeks becomes eight, and so on and so forth. You slowly find yourself ensnared by Alhaitham's careful, subtle manipulation. Gandharva Ville really isn't overrun with poachers, but with how sheltered you are, you don't know that.

And week by week, day by day, you don't realize it but Alhaitham is slowly working to decode you. What about you fascinates him so deeply? As he studies you like he would one of his projects, he only finds himself falling deeper and deeper into obsession, an inescapable loop of positive feedback.

The realization comes to him one night, as dreams of you dance in his head as he sleeps. Your hand brushing against his for only a moment. The empty space on the other side of his bed filled by you, his arms holding you close every night. The tender press of your lips against his. The kind of love that transcends human nature. The kind of love that is divine.

Alhaitham is in love.

And now that he knows it, he can't let you go. Luckily for him though, you'll never escape. After all, he's already domesticated you. It's only a matter of time before you learn to love him, too.

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schrijverr · 10 months ago

Text

It Just Hits Different When It’s Batman

5 times a League member heard Batman use slang + 1 time they knew where the fuck he got it from.

This fic is based off this post by @wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday bc it was just too good! Hope you don't mind :D

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

1. Flash

Barry is pretty sure he has to get his hearing checked as he speeds through a city, trying to find a series of bombs, courtesy of a new alliance of villains. He and Batman are on bomb duty, thus sharing a private com line as to not distract the others or be distracted as they coordinate.

However, Barry is very much distracted by his own partner in this whole mess, because unless he’s gotten a few too many hits to the head in recent years, he’s pretty sure Batman just reported: “The bombs look like yassified thermos flasks.”

“What?” Barry chokes, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does.

Batman doesn’t seem to notice, instead explaining the bomb, not his wording: “The casing looks to be made from plastic, likely to escape Superman’s notice. Start checking water pipes, I found this one near a toilet. I’ll report again once I figure out how to disarm it.”

Okay, questing his sanity later, finding bombs, now.

So he zooms off again, having to agree with the fact that the bomb does look like a yassified thermos flask. He wonders if he can use that in his report or if Batman will scold him for language. He has worked with the man for long enough that he knows Batman isn’t above hypocrisy.

Then he wonders again if he even heard it right. In the heat of battle, the brain sometimes does weird things, especially when someone thinks at the speed of light. Or faster.

He’ll put it out of his mind for now, maybe tell Hal about it just so he’ll have someone to share the bizarre experience with.

Clark probably has a thesaurus, he should probably also find a synonym for yassified. Does a thesaurus have slang too?

2. Green Lantern

It’s true that Barry had told him about Spooky saying yassified in that one battle, but Hal hadn’t truly believed that Bats was capable of something like that. I mean, look at him. The guy might be a weirdo who dresses up as a Bat, but he’s not a weirdo who says shit like yassified.

However, at the moment it is starting to look more and more likely. Fuck, Barry is gonna give him so much crap for not believing him.

The moment in question is Batman working with him on the stealth mission. It’s one for the Green Lantern Corps, so Batman is doing him a favor. Though Hal is starting to wish that he hadn’t done him that favor, because Batman has just said: “It looks like Luthor is being thristy for Superman again. For someone who hates the guy, he sure wants his attention a lot. That’s Kryptonian honing device.”

Hal doesn’t react, still thinking about the fact that he’s just heard Luthor, thirsty and Superman in one sentence. In Batman’s voice no less.

“What?” he says.

“A Kryptonian honing device,” Batman repeats, sounding as if he thinks Hal is stupid, not uncommon. “So he can hone in on Superman, find him. Something we need to do something about.”

Hal decides to take the smart way out and lets the whole thing drop in favor of focusing on the mission. He’s not just telling Barry, but Ollie about this as well.

3. Cyborg

Being in the Justice League isn’t much different than being on the Teen Titans. Like right now, being in a building that could explode at any moment unless he hacks into the system and stops that from happening.

Ah, good old life-threatening pressure.

Batman is fighting some of the goons in the background. They’re on their own here, with the others fighting through an army outside to get to them. But it’s mostly up to them. Batman yells: “Cyborg, status.”

“I’m getting through, but something is bugging me about this whole thing,” Victor calls back. “I think there is someone I’m missing that will allow me to crack this.”

There are a few grunts in the background as Batman fights on, while Victor starts to scan through everyone who worked for the organization, trying to find the missing link.

He is interrupted by Batman, who says: “I took a tour here once. There was an intern, Kyle Paulson, he was kind of sus. Look him up.”

For a second, Victor is thrown by the sus in that sentence, but he quickly focuses back on what’s important. Indeed finding Kyle to be the missing link that gets him to disarm the bomb. While Batman is taking out the last of the bad guys.

In fact, the whole thing slips his mind until he’s writing his mission report, going through the footage to get accurate information in there. Then he pauses again, before dismissing it. Those who trained under Batman are always prepared, maybe it’s not slang but shorthand to be useful in the moment. Or he’s trying to include him, sweet, though unnecessary.

Victor puts it out of his mind.

4. Green Arrow

Ollie doesn’t believe Barry or Hal for a second. Like, really? Batman using slang that the sidekicks are using?

Sure, Nightwing sometimes uses some here and there, but Red Robin is always very professional and Robin is closer to a Shakespearean actor than a TikTok teen. There isn’t anyone else he could have gotten it from and it doesn’t make sense with his whole ‘I am the Night’-persona.

Victor suggested it was to make the newbies more comfortable when he overheard them talking, but that’s even more ridiculous in Ollie’s opinion.

So, he’s not at all in the slightest prepared for Batman’s reaction when he shows him the new arrows he developed. Because Batman’s reaction is: “Hm, serves cunt.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ollie says, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

Batman just stares at him, then in a confused sort of voice goes: “You know, it slays? It’s, you know, good? Positive.”

“Huh, what? No, I- I know what that means. How the fuck do you know?” Ollie splutters.

“I’m Batman,” is all he says. Then he walks away and leaves Ollie to stand there, still frozen in time, because what the hell was that? Batman can’t just do that, can he? That’s illegal. How does he even know that?

What Ollie doesn’t know, is that this was a calculated move. Bruce had overheard the three talking as well and decided to have a little fun. All the times before, it just slipped out in the heat of battle, but this one was purposeful.

Bruce knows Ollie would know what it meant, because billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have done TikTok trends in the past and try to keep up to date, despite their age. Not that Ollie knows it’s him under there.

And last gala, he left Bruce for the wolves – Vicky Vale – so now Bruce is dealing psychological damage to him as petty revenge.

5. Superman (and Practically the Entire League)

They’re in a meeting with most of the Justice League members that are present on earth at the moment. It’s not often they hold such meetings, since they are a little overwhelming and tend to drag on more than be productive.

However, Clark thinks it’s important to ensure there are avenues through which ever member can state their piece and be heard. So, here they are again.

Booster Gold is complaining about always being on the sidelines and never in the heat of the action, even though he’s a great hero. He’s claiming that there is a bias against younger heroes, despite the fact that the ‘old guard’ will have to give it up eventually.

Apparently, Batman has had enough, because he gets up and snaps: “We don’t have bias based on age, we have one based off skill. Maybe if you stopped abandoning your post and being someone reliable, you might get put out in the field more often. Now stop being salty about it.”

It’s silent.

Clark is scrambling his brain, to figure out the meaning. As a journalist he tries to stay up to date on current language use, however, the only person he’s heard use that word is Jon. The boy never explained, but Clark guessed what it means. Doesn’t explain why Batman knows it.

Then the silence gets broken by a snort, everyone’s head whipping towards the source. It’s Nightwing, a newer addition and one affiliated with Batman himself. The only one there brave enough to laugh at Batman, mirthfully asking: “Did you actually say salty?”

There is no change on Batman’s face, but as a longtime friend, Clark knows he isn’t emotionless. Indeed, when he listens close, he can hear the blood rush to his face, blush hidden by the cowl.

“That was not the point of the sentence, Nightwing,” Batman counters, the name a little bit pointed on is tongue.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing grins easily, showing his hands in surrender, an act which is made null by him adding: “Just pointing out that this is an official meeting. You’re on the record and you know I’m reporting this to the others.”

Red Robin and Robin, Clark fills in mentally, the other two known associates. Everyone already guessed that Nightwing must be close to them as well, since the younger two are closer to being Batman’s children. Now that is confirmed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Batman says tersely, before quickly pivoting to the next point on the agenda. No one calls him out for it.

However, just because no one calls him out on it, doesn’t mean they drop it. In the weeks after the incident, whispers make their way through the halls of the Watchtower as people speculate why or how Batman came to use the word salty and how out of character it is.

Clark can hear the gossip all over the Watchtower and he’s sure Batman is aware of it too, because some brave souls have asked about. Especially when some of the others talked about the incident not being the first one.

Batman hasn’t replied yet to any of the questions or rumors. Clark thinks he likes the mystery and chaos, likes that they don’t know why the hell he sometimes lets slang slip. Even Nightwing has been seemingly silenced, never commenting with a sort of professional ease at evasion.

Nightwing is the only clue they have, along with Robin and Red Robin, but none of them seem like the culprit.

It just doesn’t make sense and Clark can’t help but have his reporter brain itch.

+1. The Batfamily

There is going to be an attack somewhere in a major city in America tonight. They cannot figure out where, so there is a nation wide stake out at all the important places. Nearly the entire Justice League has been pulled out for it and even then they don’t have enough.

Batman insists on having a skeleton crew remain on the Watchtower in case the threat turns out to be a distraction. And when it is protested, he pulls out an army of associates none of them have ever heard about to fill out the last gaps in their observational net.

The sudden introduction of about six new Gotham vigilantes, which have apparently been operating inside the city as well as outside of it, would have been the main shock if it weren’t for how they are on coms.

Red Robin and Nightwing are known as professionals like Batman, while Robin isn’t a known entity in missions, though those who have met him, know him to be serious. However, with the introduction of the others all of that professionalism melts away.

It starts about 45 minuted into their mission when Spoiler’s voice suddenly crackles over the coms: “I fucking hate stake outs, they’re so boring.”

“I know right, my ass is starting to hurt,” Red Robin – to everyone’s surprise – replies.

“No chatter on the coms,” Batman dutifully reproaches like he always does, but he sounds less stern this time. It’s as if he knows they won’t listen, but says it because it’s his role to do so.

Red Hood ignores Batman completely, idly commenting: “I don’t know, stake outs always hit different for me.”

“That’s just because you’re boring AF,” Spoiler says, an eyeroll practically audible.

“Oi, take that back,” Red Hood says, offended. “I didn’t die to have you slander my name like that!”

This is horrifying news for most of the other people stuck on the coms, however, there is a cacophony of annoyed groans as well. Why anyone would be so blasé about someone mentioning their death, they don’t know.

Until, Robin says: “Cease mentioning your death as excuse. It’s unbecoming to be so reliant on one measly event. You’re not the only one who has died, don’t be – what was it? – ah, yes, don’t be basic, Hood.”

“Yeah, Hood, don’t be salty just because you’re becoming a boring old man,” Red Robin pipes up, sounding smug. That solves the salty mystery.

“Shut up, Replacement,” Red Hood huffs. “I can talk about my death as much as I want to and you can’t stop me.”

“Hood, please, stop talking about your death, you’re going to make B sad,” Nightwing suddenly interjects, stopping the conversation before it can get out of hand.

Those with super hearing will hear Barry mutter in a shocked manner: “Is he talking about Batman?” But he is overshadowed by most of the newly introduced (and already) known Bat-associates booing loudly.

“Don’t be a fucking suck up, Dick” Spoiler hollers, only those in the know picking up on the fact it’s his name. It’s the only time Batman won’t correct them, because not everyone will know it’s a name unless it’s pointed out.

“Periodt,” the quiet voice of Black Bat supports Spoiler.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, BB,” Spoiler cheers when she hears the other girl.

“That was the correct usage?” Black Bat asks.

“It was, well done,” Oracle’s kind voice comes over the coms, from where she is in her lair helping with coordination.

After that it all quiets down again for about half an hour, then Bluebird breaks the quiet again, complaining: “I can’t believe I had to stay behind in Gotham of all places.”

“You live there. Willingly,” Signal answers. “And I had to stay behind too, you know.”

“They’re sleeping on us, Signal, be upset with me,” Bluebird exclaims, indignantly.

“Okay, but tea though,” Spoiler says, most of the Justice League listening in are starting to learn she likes stirring the pot a little.

“Don’t be a simp, Spoils,” Red Robin says.

“Oh, look who’s talking about being a simp,” Red Hood snorts loudly. “I observed you, loser boy, you’re the simp.”

“It’s not as much of the serve you think it is to admit to stalking me,” Red Robin deadpans.

“RR, not to be that bitch, but you’re the OG stalker, maybe- maybe don’t do that,” Nightwing says cautiously, which is apparently funny enough that multiple people start laughing.

Meanwhile Red Robin complains: “Stop laughing at me, when I did it was totally different, I didn’t plan on killing any of you.” Which is mildly disturbing

“Oi, I never planned to actually kill you-kill you either,” Red Hood protests, even more disturbing. The Justice League is starting to wonder why Batman works with the man.

“Stop with the chatter,” Batman interjects again, before it can go further. “It’s not just us on the com lines now. At least try to be professional.”

And much to the horror of the League, who could never imagine doing such a thing, Batman gets booed. Again. This time directly.

Then to add to the horror, Batman doesn’t explode in anger, like everyone would have imagined, instead he just sighs. Defeated. Batman is like a cockroach, he doesn’t get defeated. However, these kids are managing.

Batman remains defeated too, because the Gotham vigilantes continue to idly chat all throughout the next hour. They are definitely bat associated, because they never reveal any information that could be tied to their civilian identity. Instead discussing other missions, general news, funny things they saw on patrol and personal grievances with the others on the line.

If this is what Batman deals with on the day to day, some are starting to see why he would prefer the heroes of the Justice League to keep their mouths shut on missions unless it’s important.

Most try to tune it out and focus on their own stake out, though the voices keep them awake. But they notice when Spoiler’s voice suddenly becomes serious as she reports: “Sus individuals moving towards the Mayor’s office.”

“Received, getting visual on your location,” Oracle’s voice replies, also snapped back into professionalism.

Spoiler reports their appearances and currently location, until Oracle has them, running a check on them, before confirming they have a criminal record and might be thugs for hire. Spoiler says: “I am going to move in.”

Batman says: “Do not engage, Spoiler, they could be a decoy. Try and get more information first.”

“Alright, alright,” Spoiler huffs. Then adds petulantly: “I’m not gonna do it, I was just thinking about it.”

Which sounds pretty reasonable for most listening in, who aren’t of the right age group to know the meme. Batman, however, does know, because he’s been subjected to it multiple times. So, he yells: “Spoiler, no!” startling some members.

A second later, there are sounds of a fight and Spoiler gleefully saying: “I did it.”

Batman lets out a frustrated growl, but Spoiler pays it no mind and she can’t truly get chewed out, because more and more start to report suspicious individuals moving in on the targets they’re watching.

Within minutes of it starting, Nightwing reports: “They’re decoys with targets. Not the main attack, but will do damage if they succeed.”

“Everyone make sure to take out the decoys,” Batman says. “Those without decoys, keep your eyes peeled, you might be at the real target.”

“Done with my targets, moving to help the others now,” Nightwing reports seriously, before he adds: “And can I just say that I’m the GOAT. Dibs on cookies for finishing first.”

“Okay, shade much,” Bluebird says.

“Don’t be arrogant, it’s unbecoming,” Robin retorts as well.

“Yeah, stop flexing,” Spoiler adds. “I’ve wrapped up too, by the way. You’re not special.”

“Let me have this,” Nightwing complains. “You already took all my shit, let me be cool. You all used to think I was cool.”

“Yeah, used to,” Red Hood scoffs. “Then we all realized you’re a looser.”

“Ha, get wrecked,” Red Robin snorts.

“Baby bird, wasn’t I your favorite?” Nightwing asks hurt, though over the top enough to show he is faking it.

“No, sadly, that was Hood,” Red Robin replies, sounding a little like he’s grimacing.

“No cap?” Red Hood asks, surprised.

“No cap,” Red Robin confirms.

“Now I feel kind of bad for you,” Red Hood says, before some bullets are fired. “Wrapped up here, moving to help.”

Red Robin seems glad to not have to reply and none of the other Gothamites do either. With what the League has heard so far, they’re also kind of happy the topic is being dropped, unsure what to think.

Batman’s associates are among the first ones cleaning up, however, soon others are joining them and the true battles grounds – yes, there are multiple targets, these people are organized (Batman will likely obsess until he has tracked down their organization afterwards) – are discovered and heroes move in to fight them.

Throughout the battle, everyone catches snippets of this strange, newly introduced group. A group, who works well together, like an oiled machine, yet obviously made up of highly competent parts that can act on their own as well.

Like Black Bat calling out: “Red Hood, yeet,” before those fighting alongside them see Red Hood boost her into the air, so she can come flying at the terrorists.

But they also make comments about the people they’re fighting and the others that are fighting alongside them.

Signal calling out: “Bluebird is pulling some sick ass moves. Another one for her on the slay-board, Oracle.”

Or Spoiler commenting: “Okay, not to be like that or whatever, but these terrorists are kind of looking snatched.”

To which Batman sighs: “Spoiler, please, no chatter,” in a vain attempt to get them under control.

“What?” Spoiler says. “I can appreciate when they’ve at least tried to pull a fit instead of that usual para-military, ninja type BS.”

“Go off,” Black Bat pipes up again and Spoiler cheers while Batman drops it. Defeated again.

They also check in on each other, with Red Robin hissing in pain, which is immediately followed by Nightwing going: “RR, you good, fam?”

“Gucci,” Red Robin replies. “Just low-key got stabbed.”

“There’s nothing low-key about getting stabbed!” Nightwing exclaims, getting called a hypocrite by many people, while Batman is already calling for Oracle to get a visual and for a medic to head Red Robin’s way.

By the time the battle is over, the Justice League understands how different the team is that Batman usually works with. If they were surrounded by heroes who talked like that continuously, they would have probably picked up some things here and there too.

Still, it fucking weird when Batman checks over his horde, before declaring: “You were all lit out there,” causing multiple of the kids around him to groan loudly, with Bluebird calling Batman a boomer.

Clark, however, sees a small uptick in Batman’s mouth. And in that moment, he knows Batman is doing it on purpose, that he’s enjoying it. That he’s fucking with them. He doesn’t know what to do with that, nor does he think that anyone will believe it. So, he decides to share the amusement and drop it.

They’re never going to figure out Batman.

A/N:

This work is going to get dated so so so fast lmao, but it’s fun rn (if ur commenting in the future, welcome to outdated slang vibes from someone who wasn’t that up to date with current slang when writing it, bc im secretly a grandpa).

Hopefully I didn’t overdo it to an unrealistic degree, but if I did, such is the story that was being told oops

Also this whole fic is just an excuse for me to write batfam banter bc I love it lmao

I didn’t include Batwing, Batwoman and Flamebird here, sorry, but writing the batfam is always so hard bc there are so many characters T-T

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gghostwriter · 3 months ago

Note

Can I request a Lil fluff with the team (mainly Spence) where the reader had a massive potty mouth (like they're from a country that isn't so harsh about swearing, England, Australia, New Zealand?) But she's all very professional when need be but when talking with the team she's cursing up a storm (maybe the terms "good cunt" and "shit cunt" turn up?

Good cunt means someones great, amazing

Shit cunt meaning well someone's bad) and Spence gets anxious but she reassures him that she's not swearing AT him but more making sure her words hit to where they need to go?

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader Trope: Friends who Flirt (?) ; Fluff just fluff! w.c: 0.9k Warning: CM violence; citizenship inaccuracies idk A/N: Apologies again that this took a while! I am not from Australia so I had to search up some more slangs to use for this. I hope I did it justice and I had fun writing this, Anon! Thank you for requesting 💗 Main masterlist

Down Under. // Spencer Reid

It wasn’t your fault the Americans didn’t have ‘swearing’ programmed in their DNA. It was although your fault why you ended up in the FBI—receiving looks and eyebrow raises from the team—rather than in a bustling city of your homegrown country in the southern hemisphere, Australia.

But you really couldn’t blame yourself now could you? The idea of giving up your citizenship to be a part of the illustrious BAU was too good to pass up. So you packed your bags, entered the FBI Academy, and passed with flying colors—nearing perfect that David Rossi pulled ranks just to get you in the team even with how green you still were.

“So what do we have?” you asked, rounding into the conference room with Spencer in tow.

“Sadly, my precious koala, we have murder,” Penelope answered with the remote in her hand, flashing the photographs of numerous mutilated bodies. “Jacksonville, Florida reported a series of killings over the past month and it’s not looking pretty. Each victim had been dumped in alley ways and all missing a toe.”

JJ slightly reeled back. “Well, that’s a new type of trophy.”

“It’s not very common,” Spencer backed up. “Jerome Brudos, ‘the Shoe Fetish Slayer’ is the only known serial killer that kept a foot trophy from his first victim. He was only named as such because of his disturbing foot fetish and collection of women’s shoe catalogs that he considered as pornographic material.”

“Ah a shit cunt,” you remarked, making Spencer shift on his seat to look at you with inquiry.

“Y/N,” Emily warned. “Alright, wheels up in thirty.”

———

The case file was too thin for the team’s liking. How was it that a serial killer with five, possibly six, victims under his belt only had a couple of pages on it and with incomplete identifications and no missing or initial reports done.

“Emily, is this it?” Luke waved the slim folder up in the air. “I mean, I know the victims were all homeless but damn. Did they even walk and ask around?”

She sighed. “I called it in and the only reason we were invited is due to the upcoming elections.”

“Bogan coppers are they? Why doesn’t that surprise me at the least,” you scoffed

“Matt and Luke, you’ll visit the last location of the body—” Emily instructed before turning to the rest of the team. “JJ, coordinate with the media to get them to cooperate. Y/N and Reid, talk to the forensics. Rossi and I will settle base at the station.”

A series of hums and agreements echoed throughout the compact jet before settling into a lull.

Spencer shifted on his seat, turning to face you who was busy shifting through the papers. “Hey, in the office you—“ he cleared his throat. “said a phrase, what did it mean?”

You turned slightly, noting his nervous gaze. “You mean ‘shit cunt’?”

He nodded.

“It means someone bad, low life, scum of the earth—wait, you don’t think I meant you, right?”

“What—no, no!” He sighed, having spied your raised eyebrow. “Well, maybe? I didn’t know what it meant so I don’t know.”

You giggled. “Spence, if I was going to describe you it would be—pardon my French, good cunt.”

“For someone so tiny, you sure do curse a lot,” Rossi interjected.

“What can I say, us from down under just have colorful vocabulary,” you shrugged.

———

The team was finally back in home base after five days in the sweltering heat of Florida and you couldn’t feel any more tired than this moment as you waited for your sister to come pick you up. Granted you could taken the last train ride home but you just didn’t trust yourself to not miss your stop plus she volunteered so you hastily agreed—never one to say no.

“I think I’ll wait until your sister arrives for you,” Spencer volunteered, taking your go bag out of your hands.

“I am an FBI agent, Dr. Reid,” you teased. “Perfectly capable of taking care of myself”

“And I don’t disagree! I’ve seen you take down Luke in training and shoot multiple unsubs but you look dead to your feet.”

You blushed, grateful that the night made it less obvious. “So are you my knight in shining armor then?”

He cleared his throat, holding on to your gaze. “I could be.”

You sucked in a breath.

The temperature between you suddenly felt hot. Did that mean what you think it meant? Did that mean he liked you too? You opened your mouth to ask but was interrupted by a car halting to a stop in front of you.

It was your sister, what rotten timing.

“Oh please, stop caking and get in before I get ticketed or better yet make it worth it and just pash already!” She shouted through the rolled down window.

“Caking? Pash?” Spencer repeated.

“Well—I have to go. Thanks for keeping me safe, Spence.”

He stops you on your tracks, holding to your hand. “Wait what do those two words mean?”

You laughed, squeezing his hand in return, and felt a sudden burst of confidence. “Come find me when you figure it out.”

With a wink, you left Spencer dumbfounded and dazed on the sidewalk.

Some notes: Bogan - an uncouth or unsophisticated person Coppers - policemen Caking - flirting Pash - passionate kiss

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer Reid one shot #Spencer Reid oneshot #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid x fem!reader #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y/n #Spencer reid

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factorydefaultlu · 1 year ago

Text

Bounty Girl

Koby x Female!Pirate!Reader

Summary: You're an infamous pirate with a hefty bounty on your head. The marines have caught you once again, Koby is tasked with guarding you.

Word Count: 4k

Part two

"A pirate with a 100 Million berry bounty. I didn't think you'd be easy to catch, but I certainly didn't expect the impressive fight." Vice Admiral Garp spoke with a light amusement in his voice. A cadet with pink hair stood by his side, eyes wide as he took in your appearance. Poor thing hasn't seen many pirates, if any, you assume.

The Vice Admiral turns to the cadet, shaking him from his trance.

"Koby, you take the first security shift, you have the cell keys, and the alarm if they break free."

Without another word the Admiral exits the room, leaving you and the nervous cadet alone. It's silent for a few moments, Koby stands dutifully by the desk.

"So, Koby. What are you doing after this?" You joke with a smirk, making sure to annunciate his name, and lean against the cell bars.

Koby's face hardens at your jest. "I have no desire for small talk with pirates." He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Vice Admiral had spoken highly of Koby in his reports of your capture. However, Koby was clearly bitter about the assignment he had been given, regardless of the bounty on your head.

You give Koby a fake pout, "I'm just trying to make conversation, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?" You wrap your hands around the cool metal of the bars and press your forehead against them. You stare Koby down from his place across the room, making him shift under your gaze.

"No pirate is worth conversing with." He says coldly, his eyes locking to yours. His confidence wavers and his gaze moves to study the floor.

As you stare him down, you notice his fingers twitching. Your presence has clearly riled Koby, and you get the sense that the Vice Admiral had a reason for choosing him to oversee your capture.

You lick your lips and watch Koby's fingers drum lightly against his thigh. You look him up and down once more, deciding he'd be a fun play toy.

"Is this not how you expected things to go? You seem pretty pissed that you're down in the cell blocks like some rookie and not with your Admiral making plans for my execution." You tease, trying to get under his skin.

You push at the edges of Koby's composure, his eyes narrowing as he suppresses the flash of anger in his expression.

As you continue to goad him, his right foot begins to tap in cadence with the trembling of his fingers. The longer you push at Koby, the more you can see him struggling to maintain his cool demeanor. You smile at this.

"Unless that's all you are to him. A rookie that he uses for the boring, miniscule work he doesn't want to deal with." You walk to the other side of the cell, closer to Koby, and lean against the bars once more.

"I think that's it, every boss has that one employee they use. Make them think they're important, just so they don't complain about the work."

"I have done more in this past year than you have in your entire life." Koby says, his tone turning sharp. The mask has fallen, and Koby has lost whatever reservations he had about speaking candidly with you.

"The Vice Admiral didn't have to assign me to oversee your capture, but it suits my career goals. That being said, I'm not wasting my time chatting with you." He says, turning his back on you.

At this point, it's clear that Koby has little interest in entertaining you. The two of you stand in silence for a few moments.

You chuckle at his outburst in amusement. "Oh you really don't like pirates do you? Is it a childish prejudice, or did a pirate hurt you? Come on, you tell me." Your eyes burn into his back, but Koby ignores your continued taunts.

Silence fills the cell as he struggles to control his emotions. His hand curls into a fist, then falls open just as quickly. Koby's shoulders remain tense as he takes a deep breath.

As he regains his composure, you get the sense that he is still in a state of extreme tension. He seems ready to lash out again at the slightest provocation.

"Don't wanna tell me? That's okay, but just know that I'd never hurt you. Not unless you want me to, that is." You continue your teasing, trying to get him to come close to the cell.

Koby slowly spins in your direction. He eyes you menacingly, but he remains where he stands, out of reach from inside the cell. The tension in his shoulders seems to fade slightly at your continued attempts at flirting.

"You wouldn't hurt me, huh?" He asks. His face gives away no emotion, but he is clearly intrigued.

The smile on your face widens, happy that you've finally gotten his interest. "No, how could anyone hurt someone with a face like yours?"

Your continued flattery finally breaks through to Koby. His facial expression breaks for a moment, as he is caught off guard by your comment.

The tension that he was holding evaporates, as his shoulders drop. He looks away from you, as if not wanting you to notice how much your flirtation affected him.

"How could someone with a face like yours be a pirate?" He mumbles, returning the compliment in kind. His gaze shifts back to you, meeting your eyes for the first time since he arrived.

"Are you calling me pretty, cadet?" You feign a blush, though you can't deny the butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes lock with his, and you can finally see just how gorgeous they are; Made even bigger by his glasses, you could easily get lost in the blue.

Koby smiles nervously as you flirt back at him. The butterflies in his own stomach become a maelstrom of activity as you take in his striking eyes. He knows it's wrong, but he's enjoying the tension of your flirtation.

"Am I?" He asks, he lets out a trembling chuckle, realizing the weight of what he's partaking in.

"You never answered my question. What are you doing once you're off duty for the night?" You look him up and down again, trying not to let him notice that you're eyeing the cell keys on his belt loop.

"I'm meeting with Vice Admiral Garp. There's an event on a nearby island that requires his attention and he wants me to be there." Koby says, turning away from you, a slight blush creeping the back of his neck.

He remains oblivious to your continued glances at the keyring. His uniform looks crisp and well-maintained, however, and he seems the type of person who keeps a tight grip on everything he owns, including the keys to your cell.

"Oh? Is it a fancy event, or just a room with stuffy old marines complaining about their jobs and reminiscing about the old days." You walk to the corner of the cell, getting a better look at Koby.

"More of the latter, unfortunately." Koby says, turning back to look at you. The corner of his mouth curls in an endearing small smile.

As he turns back to you, you hear the faint jangling of the keys. He quickly and subtly covers them with the hem of his jacket as you shift and press your body to the bars.

You look down as he covers the keys. "Have you always been Garp's lap dog, or is that a new position you've taken up?" You begin to tease him again, hoping to get him closer and closer to the cell

Koby narrows his eyes at your dig. "The Vice Admiral has put in a good word for me with Admiral Sengoku." He replies flatly, not willing to rise to your continued taunting.

Koby opens his mouth to speak again before you get the chance. "If I may ask, what's with the flirtatious facade? I thought you pirates had no time for that sort of thing."

As you continue to tease him with your smile, he slowly begins to back away from your cell.

"No time for romance, but that doesn't mean we don't bring people into our beds. You'd look so pretty laid out on my bed." You smirk even wider, your words may be manipulative but they're true. Your stomach flutters at the image of him naked beneath you.

Your compliment draws a flush to Koby's face as he steps further back. Your words have cut through his barriers, and he doesn't seem to know how to respond.

"I can't imagine a pirate like you has much need for romance." He says, his voice slightly quieter than before.

His eyes flit to the cell keys hanging from his hip, but then quickly shift back to you.

"I like romance though, I just haven't found anyone I actually want to put that effort into." You tilt your head, studying Koby further. Your confession causes a flash of disappointment on his face.

"Well, until tonight that is." You glance at the keys, then back to his face. His face has a pink tint and his eyes are wide, he looks absolutely gorgeous. Your stomach turns slightly and your cheeks warm up. The plan wasn't to catch feelings for the cadet, but that's starting to change.

Koby remains silent, mulling over your declaration of interest. The tension in the air between you both is thick, the silence punctuated by your steady heartbeat. Your eyes remain on him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Koby's eyes shift to the keys hanging from his belt, and you sense the moment of weakness in him. His breath becomes more rapid, and his eyes dart back to your face.

His words are barely a whisper as he asks "Can I trust you?"

"I'm a pirate, that's up to you. I won't hurt you though, in fact I might make you feel really good if you'd let me." A devilish glint flashes in your eyes as you anticipate his weakness

Koby's eyes lock with yours, and he seems to weigh your words. His lips begin to form a small smile as he considers your offer.

"I know you won't hurt me." He says, his voice a whisper.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, and then quickly reaches for the keys on his belt. His hands visibly shake as he turns the lock, you can see the smile creep back onto his lips as his eyes flicker with anticipation.

You pull the cell door open, and quickly grab him by his uniform tie. His breath catches in his throat as you pull him into your embrace, holding his tie in a vice-grip. The tension of the moment threatens to overflow, your lips mere inches apart. You can feel his nervous breathing and you smile as you await his next move.

Koby's breath is labored as he leans forward, his lips parting as he prepares to meet your own. His eyes are lost in yours, and he seems intent on forgetting his position as a marine and instead meets you as a man.

You press your lips to his, he's warm and soft, unlike any man I've kissed before. You place one of your hands on his jaw as the other releases his tie and settles on his chest. He tastes like mint, and smells of bamboo. Once again, unlike any man you've been with. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest, and you hope your own heartbeat isn't noticeable.

Koby's lips mingle with yours in a slow dance, his breath coming in short bursts as he adjusts to the feeling of the kiss. It's a completely foreign feeling for him, but he loves it. His hands settle around you, gripping the fabric of your shirt. The muscles in his arms clench, as he nervously rests his hands on your waist.

As your fingers explore his chest, you can feel his heartbeat pounding against your palms. Koby seems lost in both the feeling and the passion of the moment, his eyes closed tight as he continues to embrace you.

You begin to push him back, slowly moving until his lower back bumps the desk behind him. You pull away from the kiss and look down at him, his glasses are fogged and slightly crooked. Koby's eyes open as you move away, taking in his surroundings. He seems as though he's disappointed with the reality of the situation. You giggle and reach up to fix his glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose, giving him a clear view of you. He is frozen, his breathing still heavy, as he takes you in. You're chest is pressed to his and he can feel your beat against his own.

He glances down your shirt, completely entranced, and you chuckle lightly at his boyish stare. He is broken from his trance by your laughter, as he chuckles nervously alongside you. His face is flushed with redness.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before, cadet?" You trace your nail along the edge of his rank patch, using his formal title to tease him. He's so cute and innocent. You open your mouth to let your thoughts flow "I'm just thinking of all the ways I could ruin you."

"Of course I've kissed someone." He replies, clearly lying. As you stroke your finger along his chest, he shivers in response to your touch.

You watch as Koby's brain short circuits while he struggles to maintain his composure in your presence, his face glowing like a sunset.

"And just as an FYI, I'm not that green." He says defensively, his face reddening even further. He turns away from you, trying to regain some control of the conversation.

"You can't ruin me. What do you even mean by that anyway?" He asks, his curiosity getting the better of him as he looks at you again.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean by that." You slide your hands lower, gripping his hips and pushing him harder against the desk. He's completely trapped by your body and you press your hips into his. A wave of shock runs through your body as you feel, or rather don't feel, what you expected.

Your grip on his hips sends a flush of arousal through him as your hands caress his body. He inhales sharply as you push yourself into him, sliding your hands back up his chest. His face goes from red to deep crimson, as the rush of blood fills his cheeks. He struggles to maintain his composure, his jaw clenching in a vain attempt to suppress his libido.

"I don't know what you mean." He finally says breathes out, but the flustered inflection of his voice belies the truth he knows inside.

"Did the person you kissed before make you feel this way? Did she make you feel this good, or are you going to lie to me again?" You whisper against his jaw, rubbing your hips harder. You narrow your eyes a bit as you study the feeling of his arousal. Your whisper has a soothing quality to it, but it also brings a wave of emotion as the moment builds between you both. The look in Koby's eyes shows that you've struck a chord within him.

He's not disinterested, there's no way his cock wouldn't be at least a little hard. Unless he doesn't...

Oh– Oh.

He shakes his head, his answer finally coming out in a rush. "No. I- No one has ever made me feel like this. O-Or kissed me." He looks down at your hands as he lets the truth spill out, his breath catching in his throat when he feels your hips grind against his sweet spot.

You kiss him again, licking at his lips, begging to be let in. He gladly parts his lips, you delve your tongue into his mouth. This drives Koby wild, and he groans quietly against you. He uses your waist to pull you in further, his legs trembling ever so slightly.

You moan against him and move your hands back up to his chest, curiously searching for the feeling of a binder. You whimper as your expectations are shifted and you feel the faint outline of what you can only assume are surgery scars. Jagged and poorly done, from what you can feel. You pull back once again, and look into his eyes. "You're such a pretty boy, you know that?"

You catch your reflection in his eyes, he looks as though he's on the verge of tears. Koby looks over your face in return, taking in your hair, your eyes, and your lips. His gaze seems almost too close, as if he is attempting to analyze every detail of you.

He blinks rapidly, shaking his head. "T-Thank you." He stammers. "But that's all I can give you." The words come out as if he is fighting them. "Please stop this."

Disappointment swells in your heart, you hide your pout and pull away from him, taking a few steps back. He begins to straighten his uniform, not daring to meet your gaze.

"If I wasn't a pirate would I have a chance at having you all to myself?" I barely glance up at him before staring at the door.

The look of disappointment breaks through the facade of Koby's emotions. His eyes are drawn back to you, his expression one of sadness.

"I'm a Marine. You are a pirate. This could never work." He says that, but you know his words have a different meaning.

"I'm not a real man, you wouldn't like me if you knew" are the true words that echo in his head.

He's trying to sound firm, but your shared moment has eroded his walls. He continues to stare at you, a faint blush still creeping across his face.

"Then I guess we'll just be a game of cat and mouse for each other." I push Koby further back against the desk then make a break for the door, striding across the room.

Your words sting, and his heart is telling him one thing, but his duty is telling him another. His lips press into a frown, as the conflict plays out internally.

As you rush for the door, Koby quickly follows after and grabs your wrist, pulling you back with surprising strength. Your movement is halted in an instant, and you feel no give in his grip. Even though you stand taller in height, you are no match for his strength.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asks, his eyes hard with resolve.

"Sorry cadet, but I have date with The Grand Line I really can't miss." You try to twist out of his grasp, trying to break free, but to no avail. He grips your wrist with unrelenting determination.

"You know that I can't let you escape," he says, his words clipped and his face neutral. The words are not empty or contrived, he truly wants to keep you here. He can see something in you that he is attracted to, and it is pulling at his heart.

"If I stay, they'll execute me at the next marine port this ship docks at. Is that what you really want?" You ask, fear seeping into your voice knowing the weight of its truth. You don't know Koby, and he doesn't know you. Though, from what you can tell, he wouldn't like for anyone to be executed, not even a pirate.

Koby looks down at your wrist in his grasp, and his resolve falters. He looks up at you, his mouth moving as if to speak before it closes again. The guilt on his face is palpable, and the conflicting feelings play out on his face. He knows that he wants you to stay, but he also knows that he has the responsibility of handing you over to justice. He doesn't have an answer for the moment, as he stands frozen.

You feel his grip begin to loosen ever so slightly, you take the opportunity to pull your hand free from his grasp and begin to make your way to the door again.

"There's no way anyone will be able to convince the Vice Admiral not to kill me, the crimes I've committed are beyond life in prison for a civilian, let alone a pirate." You speak flatly, you're not ashamed of what you've done. Being a liar, a killer and a thief is just part of the job description.

"W-Wait." He exclaims suddenly. His words fill you both with surprise, and you pause to turn back and look at him.

"The Vice Admiral is a good man. He understands that you are more than your crimes. We can work something out. Please, just… I can't let you leave."

You can see the hope in his eyes, as he is begging for you to stay. You know that you can't get much further with him standing guard over you, but your own curiosity has kept you here thus far. You need to break the sudden infatuation you have for each other. Your mind is filled with ridiculous notions that you could get you killed if you pursue them.

"Do you think that if I stay, we'll be able to have something together? Some wild fantasy where you can kiss me every night and call me your girlfriend? Koby. I'm a pirate, a criminal, the very thing that the marines swear to eliminate." Your words are sharp and Koby feels like a child being scolded. He feels stupid for letting a fantasy take control of his mind so quickly. He just met you, in a jail cell of all places.

"I... I don't know." He replies, his words weak as he struggles to form a response. His gaze shifts to the door, and then back to your face.

His voice wavers as he speaks "You're right, there's no way we can be together. Not while I'm a Marine, and you're a pirate."

His eyes search yours for something, anything he can use to keep you in this room. He doesn't want you to run, but he also doesn't want you dead. As he stares at your face, his eyes move back to the door.

You turn from him again and pull the door open, slipping out into the hall, leaving Koby alone in the cell block.

"If I escape, there's a chance I can meet with him later. Perhaps even kiss him under different circumstances." Your thoughts ramble as you sneak through the lower decks, the emergency alarm cuts through your thoughts.

"Damn, I knew he wouldn't let me leave without a trace."

You can already hear marine voices nearby, racing to the security room to find the cause of the emergency. You can barely take in the path of escape in front of you, your mind running wild as it takes in the chaos of the situation.

It's not until the voice of your beloved cadet pierces the air that you take in that your escape can't be as simple as you had thought.

"Escaped prisoner on the lower starboard deck! In pursuit!" He bellows, his voice filled with determination.

You smile at his loyalty to the marines, but you have to leave before they get any closer to Loguetown. You sprint up the steps and push through the doors to the upper deck. The marines there are rushing to prepare for a battle. It appears that Koby is not the one that sounded the emergency alarm. There, out in the water is a pirate ship. Your pirate ship, it seems your crew has come to rescue you.

The voices of the marines follow behind you as they man their stations. You are the least concern for them right now, and stare out at your large ship barreling towards the marine vessel. Your crewmates are waiting for you, with eyes shining and weapons at the ready.

This is almost routine, many times you've been captured, and many times you've escaped. You'd started to get tired of it, but when you saw that young cadet by the Vice Admirals side, you figured you could play cat and mouse a bit longer.

You rush to the edge of the ship's railing, slipping your shoes off in preparation to jump into the water. If you can swim to your ship, you'd be able to guide your crew away from the marines with little to no fighting. You won't dare sink the marine ship, you won't risk Koby like that. You want to see him again, under very different circumstances that is.

As you approach the edge of the railing, you hear a voice calling out to you from behind.

"Stop her!"

It's Koby, and he is determined to stop you from escaping. You can see the desperation in his eyes as he races for the railing, his arms outstretched in the hope that he can catch you before you can escape.

Your feet dangle above the water, as you look from him to your ship.

"I'll be waiting for you at the next port you stop in! Trust me, you can't get rid of me now, not even if you wanted to!" With that, you jump into the water. As you swim the choppy waters to your ship, you hear the marines making a commotion. They fire cannons at your ship, and your own crew fires back.

You kick out at the surface of the water, your feet propelling you forward in a quick effort to make it to the pulley rope on the stern of your ship

Finally, you break the surface of the water and emerge before your shipmates, who quickly drag your soaked body onto the deck. You laugh as you look out on the ocean, watching the marines fail to catch your ship as it disappears out of their sight.

#koby x reader #koby smut #op koby #captain koby #koby one piece #koby #one piece smut #one piece x reader #One piece #op x reader #op smut #Opla #opla smut #opla x reader

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dirtyvulture · 7 months ago

Text

Envy and Venom

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4190

AN: Randomly came up with this idea, it's a little different than my other stuff, but give it a read. :)

DAY 1

“You couldn’t have picked a better person for the job,” you tease, gripping tightly onto your father’s hand as the sea of flashing lights fifteen feet away practically blinds you. The reporters call out for your attention but you ignore them, pausing in the awkward, hand-holding pose with your father so the photo can be plastered across the front page of news outlets around the world.

“I trust you. Don’t ruin what I’ve started,” your father says, grabbing onto your shoulder and pulling you into a tight embrace. “And please try to keep your…escapades…a little more under wraps, okay?” he whispers into your ear.

“I’ll try, Dad,” you say, but it isn’t really your fault that the public was so interested in what goes on in your bedroom. Then again, you hadn’t exactly been trying to be subtle when you were fucking your secretary against the penthouse window of your apartment, but people should try to mind their own business more.

Your father pushes you back and the two of you turn in unison to wave at the crowd once more.

“Congratulations!” you hear them echoing. “To Envy Industries’ new CEO, Y/N!”

***********************************************************************

Naturally, to celebrate your latest achievement, you host the party of the century, inviting other world-renowned millionaires, fellow tech company gurus, actors, singers, celebrities, and pretty much anyone else who fit society’s thinly-veiled description of “famous.” You initially show up with two models you had already spent the afternoon with, but you weren’t interested in stringing them along and were excited to find some new target to chase after.

The first hour alone is spent wading through faces you recognize from online but have no personal connection with, and you have to pretend that you’re grateful when they take enough interest and ask about the future of your company.

“We’ll probably stick to the production of GPUs for a while,” you say, yelling to be heard over the music and rumble of people. “We just signed a huge contract with Tesla, so we’ll be supplying all the hardware they need for their next products. They have a big need for AI software, and we’re one of the few companies that can build exactly what they need.”

“Wow, that’s very impressive.” The short-haired blonde woman suddenly throws herself at you, her nails digging into your bicep so hard you can feel the prick through your burgundy silk jacket.

“Thank you.” You’re not sure you’ve ever seen this woman before in your life and you wonder if she even understood half of what you were saying or she was just trying to get into your pants.

“I’m Carol, by the way. Do you want to get a drink?”

“I would never say no to a drink.” You let Carol lead you to the bar (that you are footing the bill for) and she orders for you, picking an old-fashioned cocktail for you. A decent choice, but if she had read your interview in The Chief Executive Magazine, she would have known that your favorite drink was actually a vodka martini. You join her at an empty table.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you ask out of politeness, taking a sip and letting the whiskey burn your throat.

“I’m an influencer,” Carol says. “I have one-point-seven million followers on Tik Tok right now. I mostly post fitness routines or travel vlogs. And I also stream video games on Twitch.”

“Ah.” Now it’s your turn to act like you’re impressed when you have no idea what she’s talking about.

Carol drones on about her next project, which involves a collaboration with another influencer you’ve never heard of. Your eyes scan the people walking by, looking for a new object of infatuation. It doesn’t take long until you make eye contact with a beautiful, redheaded woman, her voluptuous body hugged by an emerald green dress. Immediately, your heart rate spikes as you scan her up and down, not predatorily, but admiringly. The neckline of her dress plunges down to her belly button, a tasteful hint of her cleavage showing through, highlighted by a long silver necklace with a thin gold bar tassel.

You perk up, smoothing your hair back and puffing out your chest like a proud pigeon when she starts walking over.

“Congratulations,” the redhead says. “Your family must be very proud of you.”

“My dad didn’t want to give it to me,” you admit, completely oblivious to Carol’s pout as you instantly give your attention to this new woman. “But I convinced him the company would be in good hands.”

“I bet.”

“Can I get you a drink?” you ask, desperate to keep around for the conversation (and perhaps more).

“I should be the one treating you,” the redhead says. She takes the cocktail out of your hands and brings it to her lips. “Hmm. I didn’t think this was your taste,” she notes. “How does a vodka martini sound?”

You know instantly this is the woman you’re taking home with you tonight. “That sounds delightful.”

***********************************************************************

You ditch Carol without a second thought and follow the redhead back to the bar, where she picks up two vodka martinis. She brings you to a private booth, sitting so close to you that your knees are touching hers. You can almost feel her body heat through the fabric of your clothes.

“To Envy Industries’ long and prosperous future,” she says, raising her drink in a toast.

“Cheers.” You clink your glass to hers and drink half of it in one long sip, smiling in satisfaction. “I didn’t catch your name,” you say.

“Natasha.” It sparks a familiar memory, a name you’ve heard before. But she’s so intoxicating that you give it no second thought. Natasha is one of the most gorgeous women you’ve ever seen in your life and you can’t believe she’s sitting here talking to you and you alone.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you say, formally offering her your hand. She shakes it, and you gently bring her hand up to your lips to kiss her knuckles.

“Likewise,” she says, crossing one perfectly toned leg over the other, her foot nudging the back of your calf. “Not to eavesdrop, but I overheard you mention a contract with Tesla. Say what you want about that company, but you can’t deny the evidence that they’re one of the highest valued companies in the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if Envy Industries is soon up there with them.”

“Exactly.” Your interest in this woman skyrockets, because you know she isn’t bullshitting you. She isn’t like Carol. She knows what she’s talking about.

“We’ve been trying to strike deals with the automotive industry for years,” Natasha goes on, “But you’ve beat us to it. And now that you’ve partnered up with Tesla, you’re basically unstoppable.”

“Not quite,” you correct, now unable to stop yourself from unraveling the schemes of your company’s next five years. “Our research on artificial intelligence is just getting started. We just applied for ten new patents within computing technologies and we’re on track to absolutely dominate the market for discrete graphics processing units by the end of the year.”

Natasha grins at your enthusiasm and you feel yourself blush in embarrassment. You know the media often labeled you as stupid, reckless, irresponsible, unfit to lead, and constantly bashed your sexual appetite, but you were all those things and a technology genius. Your father had built this company from the ground up, but you had been there alongside him the past six years. While everyone classified your promotion to CEO as nepotism, you felt you had rightfully earned it.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she comments.

“Well, it definitely wouldn’t be wise for the new CEO to be giving away all the secrets, now would it?” you chuckle, even though you’ve definitely already said more than you should’ve.

“Your success is no trade secret.” Natasha turns her whole body to face you. The attention she’s giving you is almost more than you can bear. Your heart pounds against your chest. No woman has ever made you this excited before. “But if you want, maybe we can go somewhere a little more private, where you can share whatever else you’d like.”

“Hmm.” It was rare for another woman to be so bold with you. But you’ve never lusted after another woman like Natasha before. Arousal heats up in your stomach as Natasha leans forward, resting her hand on your thigh and squeezing it teasingly. Her breath fans over your face and you can smell the vodka and her cherry lipstick. You lean forward to meet her, moving like you’re in a dream, fireworks sparking in the back of your head the moment your lips touch.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with the carnal desire to drag this woman up to your penthouse and have her squirming underneath you, crying out your name as she comes undone.

“Um, would you like to…” You can hardly think straight. “My room…apartment…is upstairs…if you want to…”

“Show me the way,” Natasha says, standing up and offering you her hand.

***********************************************************************

Your brain is swirling in a fog as you follow Natasha to the elevator. You don’t even register any of the people you pass, fully aware of the fact that someone will report this headline to the National Enquirer, at the very least. But all the worries of the future disappear the moment the elevator doors close and Natasha throws herself at you, her legs hooking around your narrow waist and her heels digging into the small of your back. Your hands support her supple bottom, squeezing in appreciation as her lips crash against yours in a desperate frenzy.

You stumble into the wall, smashing your hand onto the top floor button and feeling the elevator start to rise, but not fast enough.

“Lucky me,” Natasha pants between kisses. “Getting to go home with the newly-christened CEO of Envy Industries.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight,” you respond, heat rising between your legs. “Of course you were coming home with me.”

Natasha glows with the praise and pulls your head into her chest, where you instinctively lick and nip at the flesh of her exposed breasts and she keens at the attention. When the elevator doors open again, you stumble out with her still in your arms, your feet automatically taking you down the path to your apartment. Thankfully, your apartment door opens automatically when your key card is in range, so you’re able to kick it open with your foot, without having to put her down.

You carry her straight to the bedroom, dropping her on the freshly-changed sheets you had housekeeping put on after you were done with the two models from earlier. You can hardly remember your time with them and your body is practically vibrating in anticipation like you haven’t had sex in years. You crawl on top of Natasha, lowering yourself to kiss her again, this time with more passion and her arms snake over your broad back, pressing your body against hers.

“I need to get you out of this dress,” you pant, desperate for skin-to-skin contact with her.

“You first,” she says, releasing you as you sit up, yanking off your jacket and throwing it to the floor. You’re annoyed at your choice of shirt, a white button-up that has way too many buttons, as you impatiently pop them off one at a time and remove your bra. Natasha watches you with hunger in her eyes and you’ve never felt more proud to reveal yourself to another partner. The daily, painful 2-hour visits to the gym and strict adherence to a customized diet showed in your chiseled physique, your biceps bulging like you had baseballs under your skin, your perfect washboard abs, and your thighs were sturdier than tree trunks.

“Fuck,” she mutters, reaching up to run her hand across your abs like she can’t believe you’re really in front of her. “I could look at you all day.”

It’s a common reaction most people have, but it definitely heats you up more when it comes from Natasha. “Your turn, gorgeous.”

She sits up and turns around so you can access the zipper of her dress. You sweep her hair to the side, stealing a kiss to her neck because you really can’t help yourself. Natasha hums in appreciation and you lower her zipper slowly. Her dress pools at her waist like a glimmering green puddle. She isn’t wearing a bra so your hands immediately gravitate to cup her breasts, and she arches her back against your bare chest.

“Are you gonna fuck me the same way you do to every girl you have in here?” she asks, placing one of her hands over yours and guiding it down her stomach, where your fingers part through her soaking folds.

“If you want me to,” you say, pressing deeper into her and she whines at your touch. “But I’ll give you whatever you want.” Normally, you enjoy being in full control in the bedroom, but you are absolutely willing to give that up if it pleases Natasha.

She suddenly pushes your hand away from her center; you can still feel traces of her stickiness on your fingers. “Do you have a strap? I want to ride you.”

Your stomach flips at the thought of her on top of you, grinding down on you until she finishes. Her heaving bosom in your face for you to suck and kiss while she enjoys the orgasm you gave her.

“Yeah, let me grab it.” While you launch yourself off the bed to go fishing around your nightstand drawer, Natasha nudges her dress to the floor and delicately removes her long necklace, settling back comfortably on your king-sized bed while she waits for you. You take off your pants and pull the harness over your waist, turning back to the mouth-watering sight of her naked and ready for your taking. Her body is toned and curved in all the right places: clearly, she respected her body as much as you did to yours. There are few things you love more than a woman who takes care of herself.

You climb back onto the bed and Natasha pounces on you while you’re still getting into position, holding onto your biceps to pin you down. You catch sight of her glimmering wetness as she drags herself along your abs, pressing back against your cock until it rubs against her butt. You reach over to grab the bottle of lube always present on your nightstand and squirt a generous glob onto your strap, not that it looks like Natasha will need it.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?” you tease, your hands running up and down her sides. Natasha takes you by surprise when she shoves you back against the headboard.

“Shut up and let me fuck you,” she growls, her voice dangerously dropping an octave. Natasha lifts herself up to line herself with the head of your cock and slides down in one move. The slick noise as it fills her is downright sinful. Your big hands wrap around her tiny waist, guiding her to bounce in an aggressive rhythm as the two of you watch your cock disappear inside of her.

“Fuck, Y/N,” she moans, throwing her head back, red hair spilling over her shoulders. “That feels so good.”

“Look how well you’re taking me,” you praise, your hips jerking up to match her rhythm. Even though you can’t necessarily feel it, you swear her pussy is clenching around the toy, greedily sucking you in and requiring physical effort to pull out. Your own clit is throbbing as the toy bumps it every time Natasha slams down on your thighs.

“Deeper, babe. Go deeper,” Natasha begs, moving her hands from your shoulders to the headboard, grabbing it so firmly you hear the wood crack. You change the angle of your hips, punching them up to satisfy her command. The bed frame creaks and shakes; you know your father would be unhappy to hear he has to order you a new one so soon, but you can’t be bothered to care right now.

“Fuck, right there. That’s it,” Natasha moans, rolling her hips with such fluidity it makes your stomach clench. She looks down at you, admiring the flex of your muscles as you do your best to please her, a singular bead of sweat running over your collarbone and sliding down between your breasts.

“I’m close. I’m almost fucking there,” she warns, her hips beginning to lose their rhythm. But you keep your intense pace, until your abs are cramping and you’re certain there are bruises on your thighs. Your own arousal burns like a ball of white-hot fire and you so desperately want to make this woman cum you will gladly ignore the ache of your own orgasm for hers.

“You’re fucking me too well, baby. I’m gonna lose it,” Natasha pants and the praise almost breaks your control. She throws her head back as she finishes and you bury your face in her heaving chest, tasting the sweat on her skin and sucking one of her nipples into your mouth. Her hand abandons the headboard to tangle in your hair, yanking almost painfully at your roots while you feel her cum spill onto your lap. She pushes your head away once she’s done, your lips parting from her nipple with a string of saliva, and lifts herself off your cock. The two of you are panting in unison, while you’re still fighting the simmer of arousal in your gut.

“Hmm, that was nice. Do you normally let your partner finish first?” she asks, resting her hands on your chest again. “I didn’t think you were the type.”

Your face burns in embarrassment because she’s not wrong. “Um…no,” you admit, knowing full well you could lie, but you feel like she’ll be able to see through it.

Natasha smirks. “Such a gentlewoman with me,” she says, bending over to kiss you, this time much more softly than before.

“Only for you,” you murmur back, shocked at how whipped you already are for her.

“You want me to help you finish?” Natasha asks, pushing the strap aside to brush her fingers across your hot center. Your hips jerk off the bed, almost launching Natasha into the air. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggles, climbing off your lap and helping you pull the strap off your waist. You’re practically frozen in anticipation, watching with bated breath as Natasha scoots herself down the bed and lowers her head between your legs.

You melt at the feeling of her mouth against your center, perfectly hot and wet. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue glides through your folds, lapping up the mixture of body fluids like it’s some kind life-saving elixir.

“Shit, baby, that feels amazing,” you moan, burying one of your hands in her red tresses, motioning with your hips that you want her deeper. She obliges by wrapping her lips around your clit and giving it a few hard sucks that have you seeing white stars behind your eyelids. You let go of her hair, afraid you’ll tear it out and grab onto the Egyptian cotton sheets tightly. Her tongue pushes into you and you swear you convulse around it, already leaking into her mouth when she’s only just started to go down on you.

Natasha’s arms wrap around your powerful thighs, trying to force them apart as you close them around her head. You don’t mean to put her in awkward, even dangerous position, but you can’t think about anything other than the pulsing in your center, soothed and encouraged by the heat of Natasha’s mouth. You dig your heels into the mattress to prevent yourself from bouncing across the bed at the rocking motion your body had adopted to maximize your pleasure. Every time her tongue slips into you, the muscles in your stomach contract so sharply it almost hurts, and when she laps at your clit, the stimulation is so great you feel immediately dizzy.

“Natasha,” you pant, unable to hold out any longer. “I’m gonna…Please let me…”

She presses into you with even more enthusiasm than before and your body seizes as you release yourself into her mouth. Natasha eagerly collects all your slick, her red lipstick smeared on the insides of your thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moan, feeling your high is going to last forever. But just the sensations start to fizz, you realize Natasha still has her iron grip on your legs, keeping them spread apart.

“I want another,” she demands, in a sultry tone that almost pulls the second orgasm from you right there.

“Natasha,” you whine, fearing you are too sensitive to deliver her wishes. You twist your body back and forth, half-heartedly trying to free yourself. But Natasha won’t let you, lowering her head to your heat and taking what she wants. Overly stimulated, every muscle in your body goes rigid as fireworks of pleasure, bordering the line of painful, explode inside of you. Natasha’s tongue somehow reaches even deeper than she had the first time, the tip pressing against your front ridged wall and you lose it for the second time in minutes.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry, your back arching off the bed but Natasha holds your waist down, determined to not let a drop of your essence go to waste. Your head is spinning and your body is like a live wire of excitement, twitching and trembling until you have no more energy left and and you melt into a limp mess.

Natasha kisses up your abs, between your breasts and licks at the column of your sweaty throat. Her lips finally connect with yours and you can taste a hint of yourself mixed with hers. You can’t wait to taste her straight from the source, but it’s going to take a bit of time to find the strength to move after two back-to-back orgasms. She wraps her arms around your torso, nuzzling into the side of your chest and inhaling deeply.

There is a long, but not uncomfortable silence as you two of you find your breath.

“I’m not letting you leave until you sit on my face,” you finally say. Natasha looks up at you with a satisfied grin.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she says, crawling up so she can do just that.

***********************************************************************

The moment Natasha made eye contact with you, she knew you were done for. You were far too predictable. She knew exactly the kind of woman you chased after. She knew what she needed to say to catch your attention, to convince you that she deserved a private moment with you.

You were too easy.

When you were so busy looking at her lips, trying to figure out when the right moment to kiss her was, you didn’t notice her take your phone out of your pocket, plug a flash drive into the charging slot, and return it back to your pocket in record time.

As you carry her in the elevator, your face buried in her breasts while she slips a tiny audio recorder into the pocket of your blazer. Through the fog of pure lust for you, Natasha struggles to but succeeds in making a mental map of your apartment. Where your office is, how many computers you have.

After numerous orgasms, she’s sufficiently fucked your brains out and cuddled with you long enough for you to pass out into an impossibly deep slumber, she gets up and heads into your office. She doesn’t need more than five minutes to hack into your devices and steal all the data saved on them. She chuckles to herself at how easy the task is; if she had known it would’ve been this simple and enjoyable, she would’ve come after you a long time ago.

Natasha gathers all her things and excuses herself from your apartment without a good-bye.

***********************************************************************

DAY 2

When you wake up the next morning, your mind a haze from the absolute debauchery that occurred the previous night. You rub your eyes and roll over, finding yourself naked and alone in bed. There is a deep soreness in your body, in almost every muscle, and some you haven’t felt for a long time. Natasha’s scent of vanilla and cherry lingers, but she’s nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” you grumble, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. It’s been blowing up with notifications, which is a little unusual, but you assume it’s mostly from friends still congratulating you on your promotion. You open a text from your best friend and work partner, Tony.

From Tony: You fucked up, dude.

He included a link to a TMZ article. You click on it, half-wondering if it’ll send you to some troll site. The headline reads:

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff

Everything clicks to you now.

“Oh, fuck.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Click here for Part 2!

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#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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narraboths · 1 year ago

Text

“You got anything to tell me about yesterday’s interview, Ponytail?”

Being cornered by one’s editor is rarely a good sign. Being cornered by a harried Snapper Carr one month into her tenure as a rookie reporter would be enough to give others nightmares for a month. Maybe ulcers. Kara, though, she’s been having a great week, and she’s not about to let anyone ruin it.

“Nope.” She pops the p a little. Something about Snapper’s moroseness always pushes her to be spitefully chipper.

“Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Not at all.”

“Hm.” Snapper nurses the thought with that dour, toothachey look that Kara’s come to learn is directed at her just as much as it is a sign of his general displeasure with the world. He pulls out his phone, jabbing at the screen. “So do you mind explaining to me why my cub reporter is on the front page of every gossip rag from here to Metropolis as the Mystery Blonde Caught in Luthor’s Web?”

That can’t be right is immediately the tip of Kara’s tongue but it freezes there, along with the incredulous laugh threatening to burst out of her, because Snapper is shoving his phone in her face and–

“It’s not what it looks like,” she blurts out, instinctively, then winces at her own choice of words. Great save. “I was just being considerate.”

It’s true, really. She was only holding the door open for Lena as they left L-Corp (Lena was on the move the whole day, they did half of the interview in the back of her Range Rover, flitting between offices), and it only happened that Lena’s hand fell to her forearm, a completely innocent gesture, as innocent as Lena’s smile, as the way she swayed a little closer, saying thank you as she strode by. And sure, Kara may have felt mesmerized for a single, fleeting moment, suddenly so deeply flustered by the gentle weight of Lena’s hand that she almost cracked the door handle in two, but who wouldn’t? Lena Luthor just has a remarkable presence. Why are they letting paparazzi camp out at the L-Corp doorstep, anyways?

“I’ve never seen Luthor that affectionate with anyone.” Snapper eyes Kara suspiciously, his face screaming why you of all people, bumbling rookie who can barely even spell?. “I’ve never seen any of the Luthors affectionate with anyone at all.”

“Guess it’s just my natural charm, sir.” Kara flashes the most annoyingly innocent smile she can, then squares her shoulders. “Did you actually read my article?”

There’s a beat of silence, Snapper staring daggers at her. Then finally, finally, he lets out an annoyed huff.

“Of course I read it. It’s going out first thing tomorrow.” He pockets his phone, then rubs his face with a tired motion. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“You got it, boss.”

It happens again.

It happens again a bunch, really. (Kara at the L-Corp gala, at Lena’s table, the two of them in lively conversation, shoulders pressed together – she was telling me about L-Corp’s new green energy initiative, sir –, the fond smile and almost-teasing tone when Lena calls “yes, Miss Danvers?” at her press conference – she’s just nice! It’s not a crime! –, the candid of them on the CatCo balcony when Lena’s in house for her cover shoot, Kara gesturing excitedly and Lena leaning against the railing, hanging onto every word, a jacket two sizes too big wrapped around her shoulders – you know it gets cold out there. At least there’s no photos of her wrapping the jacket around Lena, their hands brushing together, the faint blush along the lines of Lena’s throat. That’d probably look pretty suspicious.) Snapper’s face takes on increasingly vivid shades of purplish red.

“Do we need to go over the meaning of journalistic integrity again, Danvers?”

Kara decides to take graduating from “Ponytail” as a win.

“We’re not– it’s not anything untoward,” she shoots back, arms crossed, only slightly blushing. In anger, certainly. “I’m doing my job. I grilled her on L-Corp still holding a contract with the government for anti-alien defense systems that Lex negotiated, just last week. There’s footage.”

“Yeah,” Snapper grinds his teeth so vehemently that Kara’s afraid he might crack a crown. “Footage of her hugging you in the hallway afterwards, too. What the hell were you doing?”

“She just thanked me, sir.” The vein on Snapper’s neck looks ready to burst. Kara makes a mental note to recommend meditation at a less belligerent time. “She said my question made it possible for her to make a public stance and really send a message.”

Snapper looks like he’s nearing an aneurysm.

“Hell, Danvers, that sounds even worse!”

It sounded pretty great, actually, Kara thinks, after the borderline unprofessional row they had in Lena’s office when Kara first broached the subject. It felt pretty great, too, not just Lena’s declaration, her renewed commitment to reject everything Lex and Lillian stand for, but the warmth of Lena’s pressed against her, her lips brushing against Kara’s cheek, the low murmur of “you’re such a wonderful friend” in her ear that gave her such a strange shiver. At least that much thankfully escaped the prying eyes and cameras.

“Either I don’t go near her, or CatCo continues to have the leading stories on one of National City’s most high-profile citizens.” She gives Snapper the steeliest look she can muster without letting her heat vision flare up. “And my covers are currently bringing in our biggest numbers. Sir.”

Snapper grinds his teeth again, but his shoulders sag just a touch, and Kara knows she’s won this round.

“You’re on thin ice, Danvers. Back to your desk.”

Kara complies with a grin and a thumbs up, and decides to take a break half an hour later, when Alex forwards her an article titled Bosom Buddies: Lena Luthor Out And About With CatCo Gal Pal with a subtle mix of skull, knife, and eyeroll emojis. She does save one of the photos, though, the one where Lena’s head’s thrown back in adorable, delightful laughter.

“Can you explain this one, Danvers?”

Snapper doesn’t look angry this time. No, he’s strangely calm, somewhat elated, even, slamming a whole bundle of newspapers down on her desk, jolting Kara out of her reverie. Half of them are National City publications, Kara vaguely notes, but there’s Metropolis and Gotham and Central City in the mix, too, as if it was the story of the century. Must be a slow news day.

“Of course, sir. I think the proper term is ‘first date’?”

To her greatest surprise, Snapper barks out a laugh, loud and gruff.

“You’re now barred from any future reporting on the Luthors or L-Corp,” he tells her, not without a touch of satisfaction. If Kara hadn’t been walking on sunshine for the past thirteen hours, twenty-eight minutes and forty-one seconds, since the first tentative press of Lena’s lips against her own, she might’ve felt a bit miffed. “Cat Grant’s setting aside a little time later in the afternoon to chew you out personally.”

Kara nods happily along. Withering tones and grim disapproval, the usual spiel, as if anything could dull that buzzing, electrifying feeling coursing through her body since last night, the weightless, feverish joy that grips her every time she thinks of Lena’s last text and everything can’t wait to see you again tonight could possibly entail.

“Yessir.”

“Congratulations, Danvers.” Snapper raps his knuckles against her desk. “Let’s spare each other the heartburn from now on.”

(Kara shows up with a hickey on her neck and the headlines of Lena Luthor Packs PDA With New Girlfriend the next day. Snapper refuses to look her in the eyes for the rest of the week.)

#supercorp #supercorp fic #my fic

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jyoongim · 6 months ago

Text

An old request i thought i would try

————————————————————————————————

Human Alastor x demon!wife reader

FLUFF

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Something was off about you.

Alastor just couldn’t put his finger on it.

He loved you dearly, he married you after all but there was just something uncanny about you.

You were obsessed with listening to the crime reports on the radio, relished in it. He would often catch you smiling in malicious glee at the gruesome details.

You weren’t like most women when he revealed that he was the cause of most of the murders in your town.

You asked him for details, even if you could go with him to see how he killed his victims.

Being the gentleman he was he refused, saying that blood and brains were nothing a pretty thing like yourself should see.

And for a time you listened.

Until he wasn’t back for dinner.

———————————————————————————

You caught scent of blood on the wind and followed it.

You knew Alastor had said he would be out ‘hunting’ tonight and that he would done quickly, but your husband was late and it made you worry.

The sound of a sharp cry greeted your ears and you ran through the woods to see your husband on the ground. His victim had his shovel raised above his head to hit him again and you saw red.

————————————————————————————-

He should have finished him off when he had the chance, but he wanted to taunt the man. He had underestimated his strength and canny as the man had gotten loose of his restraint and whacked him over the head with his shovel.

His head spun as he looked to the night sky and the only think he could think of was what were you making for dinner.

”Hope you burn in hell you pyscho” the man said as he raised the shovel and Alastor smirked.

How ironic.

The forest grew cold and a chitter rang through the air.

Fear not my love, Ill handle it that sounded like your voice

But how?

The sound of the shovel dropped to the ground as the man whipped around.

A pair of red eyes stared at him and the shadowy figure of a grotesque beast emerged for the trees.

You let out a thunderous growl as you approached the man, your eyes shifting to Alastor to make sure he was alright.

He was breathing, but he was severely wounded.

“what the devil are you?” The man whispered frightened.

You flashed your sharp teeth at him, a wide grin on your lips

”Your worst nightmare”

Alastor groaned as he sat up, his head spinning and in pain. He saw a large creature loom over him, slowly approaching his now attacker.

It was feminine. Long wild hair, a spiky tail, and beautiful black horns.

You jumped at the man, causing him to scream, but he was soon silenced as your claws ripped him in half.

You clawed and ripped into him, gorging him of his innards and chomping into him. You plucked his beating heart and swallowed it, blood dripping from your lips, marring your face.

You let out a huff and turned around to see Alastor staring at you.

You approached him slowly and a bloody claw reached for his face

”Are you alright dearest?”

He tilted his head in confusion at the question and your form shifted back to normal.

His eyes widened “You’re a …”

You smiled sheepishly “Your kind call us demons, though it is a very broad term”

His eyes searched yours and you feared he would shrink away from you, turn tail and run.

But he smiled at you with that suave smile and leaned into your hand

”just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect”

You helped him up and began to carry him back home.

”I don’t repulse you?” You asked nervously. You had never intended to let your husband in on your true identity, for fear he would abandon you.

But the lanky man nuzzled into your shoulder “heavens no dear, but that does explain everything”

”Can a human fuck a demon?”

You laughed, your eyes flashing as you looked at him

”Care to find out husband?”

—————————————————————————————-

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #human alastor x wife reader

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lipglossanon · 2 years ago

Text

Out of the Blue

* ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ►*

Office Exec!Leon S. Kennedy x Personal Asst fem!reader

Shoutout to the AO3 user who requested this little ditty 😆 I hope you enjoy it!! 👉👈🥺

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, office sex, dirty talk, dacryphilia, nipple play, mean Leon, unprotected sex

Title from Out of the Blue by Purrple Cat

part ii

* ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ►*

A recent corporate merger meant big changes for you; you’ve been working as the personal assistant of the (then) Vice President of Communications, but with this new management coming in, that guy had been shifted and you were getting a totally new boss.

Nervously, you’ve been straightening up the office in the hopes of making a good impression— and thereby keeping your position. No one on your floor knew who the new guy was, only a name to go off of: Leon S. Kennedy.

Once you feel like there’s nothing more to be done, you step out of the VP’s office and make your way to the mini kitchen used as a break room down the hall. Hoping that a glass of water might cool your nerves, you don’t even notice the man standing on the other side of the room flipping through a folder.

His eyes track your movements, catching your jittery hands and teeth biting your bottom lip.

You nearly drop your glass when he clears his throat. Whirling around, you give him a shy smile.

“H-hi,” you smooth down your skirt, “you’re one of the new hires?”

A handful of people on your office floor were still coming and going, learning the layout and at times just hanging out in the break room until someone came in to help guide them. You helped a girl just yesterday find her desk, so you don’t think anything of this newcomer.

A slow smile spreads across his handsome face, intense blue eyes staring into your own.

“You can say that, sweetheart.”

You feel flustered at the name but step forward, hand outstretched, “Oh uh, welcome aboard. If you need any help, just let me know. Right now I’m stationed outside the vice president’s office.”

His eyebrows raise slightly, ignoring your offered handshake, “You’re the secretary?”

You ignore the flash of irritation from hearing ‘secretary’ and slowly lower your hand, “I prefer personal assistant.”

“Ahh,” he looks at you amusedly, and before your hand can drop any further he reaches out to clasp it.

He drops a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes still watching you, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet my personal assistant.”

You feel hot and embarrassed, but keep the polite smile on your face, “I’m sure the pleasure is mine, Mr. Kennedy.”

:::::

After that mortifying encounter, your days pass pretty smoothly with your new boss. You feel lucky that he decided to keep you on as his assistant even with that awkward first impression.

After a few weeks, you start to catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye—but when you turn, his attention is elsewhere. He also seems to touch you at every given opportunity. He touches your arm when he’s walking with you or presses a palm into your lower back when he’s moving around you to his seat in the conference room. He gets as close as possible when you’re typing up his reports or dropping something off at his desk for his signature. It always leaves you with butterflies.

Another work week rolls by and before you can blink, it’s been months since you’ve started to work for Leon. A few of your work colleagues like to corner you in the break room to try and get any gossip— who’s he seeing? Did he really come in twenty minutes late last Monday? What do you mean you didn’t hear that Chris saw him at the strip club?

It’s gotten to the point that you start taking your breaks at your desk. Leon notices it almost immediately and makes sure to stop by your desk from time to time. Today is no different.

“Tired of the office gossip?” He props his hip against your desk, arms crossed over his chest as he looks down at you.

You notice that he folded the sleeves of his shirt so you can see the muscles in his forearms flex. Dragging your gaze upwards with a small shake of your head, you smile at him.

“You can say that,” you pinch the bridge of you nose, “it’s all just..”

“Bullshit.”

Your eyes widen as you stifle a laugh, “I was going to say tiresome, sir.”

He smirks, “Sure thing, honey. Listen, I’m going to need you to stay late tonight. I know it’s Friday, but those weekly statistics have to be in before midnight.”

Your brows furrow, “I thought we were good; didn’t I just compile that data yesterday?”

He clicks his tongue, “‘fraid not, sweetheart. That was projections for the latest quarter.”

“Oh,” you chew your lip, “yeah, that’s no problem, Mr. Kennedy. Want me to drop them off on your desk when I’m finished?”

“Yes, thank you,” he brushes a few strands of hair from your face, making your breath hitch.

Before you can say anything, Leon straightens up from your desk and heads back into his office, door shutting behind him.

You press your palms to your eyes, willing the flutter of nervousness to ease. Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, you slump in your chair. You sigh and turn back to your monitor. Glancing at the time in the lower right hand, it reads fifteen after four; with everyone going home at five, you have a good feeling you’re going to end up staying even later than you thought.

You rotate your wrists and then go into your emails. Better to get started on it now than later.

::::

Your eyes feel dry and gritty, but you ignore it in favor of finishing out the last of this report.

“Finally,” you whisper gleefully, hitting the print button on the document.

Standing up, you stretch out your arms with a small yawn. Looking at the time you see it’s nearly half past ten. Still plenty of time for you to grab some takeout and crash in your comfy bed. You sigh happily at that thought and gather up the printed pages, heading over to Leon’s office.

Tapping on the door, you open it a crack, “Sir?”

“Come in, sweetheart. I won’t bite.”

You push open the door just enough to step inside. It clicks shut behind you as you walk further into the room. Leon is backlit by the city lights from his windows. You place the bundle of papers down on his desk.

“Take a look at this,” he gestures to his own dimly lit monitor.

Walking around the wide oak desk, you make your way to stand beside his chair.

After gazing at the screen for a second, you turn to him with a frown, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m looking at, sir.”

He smirks at you lazily, “Sure you do.”

“Wh—“

He grabs your hips and pulls you down into his lap, your thighs now straddling one leg. Your hands come up to brace against his shoulders while his slacks rub against your bare thighs where your skirt’s rucked up.

“Leon,” you gasp, eyes wide and nervous.

“Name sounds so good in your mouth, sweetheart,” his low voice breathes into your ear.

He drops a soft kiss on your neck, leaving a heated trail up to your jaw. Pulling back, you can see how dark his eyes have gotten.

“Been waiting forever to get you alone.”

“We can’t. I’m your—“

“Personal assistant,” he chuckles meanly, “I know, baby. And I’m going to use you for very personal reasons.”

He grips your hair in a fist and guides your mouth down in his. Your parted lips lets him slip his tongue into your mouth. Groaning, he grabs your ass with his free hand and urges you to roll your hips forward.

You whine, feeling so hot and dizzy, clit thrumming with arousal. You follow the guidance of his hand and start to grind your hips down into his leg. You eagerly suck on his tongue when he thrusts it back into your mouth. You feel him groan low in his chest and it makes you arch into him more.

He tugs your head back to take in your blitzed out expression.

“Baby, we haven’t even started yet,” he coos, “got you cockdrunk already huh.”

“Leon,” you whimper, hips rocking on his lap.

“Gonna get my pants soaking wet baby,” his eyes drop down to the apex of your thighs, “fuck, that’s it, good fucking girl.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, wrinkling the fabric of his designer shirt.

“Knew you’d be so fucking sweet, always letting me touch you, get so fucking shy,” he growls, pulling your hair harder to tilt your neck back, “gonna ruin this little cunt, baby.”

You whine, humping down into his leg harder, slick pooling in your panties and dripping all over his slacks.

“Fuck, good girl, always so good for me,” he lets go of your hair to grip your neck, “always so eager to please.”

He presses his thumb into your panting mouth; he presses down onto your tongue before pulling his thumb free and smearing spit all over your lips.

You can’t stop whining, tears beading at your lash line.

“Leon, please.”

He lets go of his grip on you, and reaches out to tug open your button up blouse.

“Look at those fucking tits, baby,” he purrs, pulling the cups of your bra down until your breasts are completely bare—aching nipples on display.

He greedily mouths at each breast and sucks on your nipples, teeth catching on the sensitive buds until you’re clawing at his shoulders.

“Good girl,” he praises, feeling you shudder at the endearment, “you’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

“So good for you, Leon,” you promise.

As you speak, he undoes your bra and tosses it somewhere in the office. Then, he drags his fingers across the swell of your breasts. He circles your sensitive nipples, thumbs brushing the slowly hardening buds.

Your breath hitches, arousal pulsing in your cunt, “Leon...”

“Bet I can make you come from this,” he husks, “make a complete mess of you from just teasing your tits.”

Your spine arches, pressing up into his hands, “Ahh, they’re too sensitive.”

Leon completely ignores you and tugs your nipples gently, softly tweaking them before soothing them with slow drags of his index fingers.

Panting, your hands twist in the fabric of his shirt. Your clit throbs with every brush against your nipples, but you can’t stop yourself from pressing up into every touch.

Everything that Leon’s doing is making more slick pool in your panties. You’re so wet, it’s seeping into where Leon’s slacks are pressed against your pussy. You can feel the hard press of his cock against you and it sends a thrill up your spine knowing you’re the cause.

“So eager for me, honey,” he teases, voice pitched low, “I want you to take your clothes off.”

“Yes, sir,” you nervously agree, shimmying out of your blouse and skirt quickly.

“Leave the panties on for now,” his dark eyes locked onto your white panties, nearly transparent from how wet they’ve become.

Settling down on Leon, you straddle his thighs, your legs dangling off the sides of the chair. You bring your arms up to tangle your fingers in his hair. You give a small tug and roll your hips down against the outline of Leon’s hard cock. In retaliation, Leon gives your nipples a sharp tug then tweaks them as you writhe in his grasp.

“Look how wet you are, honey,” he groans, gaze drawn to the slick dripping from your panties, “so fucking sexy.”

Your eyes droop in pleasure at those words a low sigh leaving your lips.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” Leon growls out, letting his gaze roam across your swollen nipples up to your dazed expression, “always so sweet, making me want to do the worst things to you.”

“Yeah?” You whimper.

“Want you under my desk at the next conference call, sucking my cock while I’m trying to work,” he drags one of his hands from your chest up to your lips; he slips first two fingers into your mouth.

“Actually just want you in here on your knees at my beck and call. Just keep the door locked and nobody’ll know my little secretary is sucking off her boss during work hours,” he presses his fingers deeper into your mouth.

You whine and suckle on them softly. He pulls them out with a soft pop.

“Touch me, please, sir,” you whisper as he drags those fingers down to your puffy nipples.

Leon sucks a hard nipple into his mouth as his right hand teases across the other with quick flicks of his damp fingers. He swaps sides, his gaze watching you bite your lip and toss your head back at the pleasure. Pulling away a little, Leon grabs each breast and presses them inward. He runs his tongue from one nipple to the other more easily, suckling them until you squirm in his lap.

“You’re gonna be working a lot of overtime, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, “my own personal hole to use when I want.”

You keen high in your throat, “Sir!”

Leon groans low in his chest and rolls his hips upward to grind his cock against your hot wet cunt, nearly jostling you from his lap. In the motion, Leon’s sharp teeth tugs on a nipple earning a breathy sigh from your lips. He swaps to the other nipple, using his teeth so you’ll reward him with more of those sounds. After repeatedly teasing each nipple with his teeth, you tug at his hair in a silent plea to slow down. He eases off from biting to soft, gentle sucks.

“Love your tits, baby,” he mouths at your nipples, “been wanting to taste these nipples since I started working here.”

You cry out at the hot, wet suction of Leon’s mouth on your sore nipples. Your back curves forward to press your chest closer to his hungry teeth and tongue. You tangle your fingers further in his hair to have something to hold onto. Grinding your hips down, you feel more than hear him moan. You repeat the motion only this time your clit grinds against Leon’s slacks, earning a low cry of want.

“Leon,” you whimper.

He only hums in reply as he keeps up the hot suction on each hardened nub. You try rolling your hips again only to be stopped by a strong grip on your waist.

“You only get to cum from this,” Leon rumbles, voice deep as his tongue lashes against your abused nipple, “be a good girl for me or you won’t get anything.”

You mewl, clit pulsing in arousal, “I’ll be good, sir, I promise.”

He moves your hands to drape across his broad shoulders, “Don’t let your hands drop below my shoulders. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

A sharp tug of teeth on your nipple has you arching in pleasurable pain. Your hands slide up into his hair again to hold him in place, worshiping your chest.

“So perfect,” Leon murmurs, lazily mouthing his way up to your neck.

“So sweet for me,” he speaks against your skin, gently kissing across your collar bones before pulling away.

You feel dizzy and aroused, tugging Leon’s hair to pull him into a soft kiss. He groans low in his chest, pressing you harder against him as he licks into your mouth. He teasingly nips at your bottom lip, sucking on it gently before slipping his tongue further in. You moan in response, loving the feel of his slick tongue teasing your own. His hands came up and grip your hair, tilting your head at an angle where he can kiss you even deeper than before.

Before long the kiss became sloppy and wet, but neither of you really care. You can’t stop whining in pleasure as Leon fucks into your mouth, tongue hot as it teases your own. Chest rumbling in pleasure, Leon draws your tongue into his mouth to suck on it greedily. You slip your tongue away to pull his plump bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling gently before softly sucking. You drag your teeth aggressively against Leon’s lip, tongue following in silent apology for the rough treatment.

Leon growls and pulls back far enough for you to let his lip go with a small pout. His cock twitches at how debauched you look. Pupils blown wide with lust, lips kiss swollen. He moves his hands from your hair to grip your hips. You know his hold’s tight enough to bruise but you only moan in appreciation. You dip your head down to recapture his lips, but he pulls back so your mouths only brush across each other.

You whimper at Leon withholding his lips from you.

“I want to hear how you sound once you cum,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours tantalizingly.

Fingers begin to roughly pinch and rub your swollen, sore nipples. His dark blue eyes never leave yours as you edge closer and closer to orgasm, your cunt copiously dribbling slick.

“I’m so close, Leon,” you whimper, trying your best not to grind down.

Leon smirks, “Guess I should slow down, huh?”

His fingers lightly tease over the hard peaks. His gaze drops from yours to take in the swollen nipples his fingers are touching. He groans aloud as he can’t deny himself another taste. You grip his head as Leon eagerly laps at your nipples, running his tongue across each one before gently biting.

“Please,” you beg, “Leon!”

Leon bites down harder on your left nipple as he gives the right a sharp twist. Your eyes roll back in your head as Leon gets even more aggressive. Harsh bites followed by a hot soothing tongue has your cunt dripping and needy.

“Like it rough, baby?”

You only moan wantonly in reply as Leon never lets up the assault on your abused chest. You continue to gasp and moan in the empty office.

Leon’s being so rough on you and you love it. Want him to pin you down right here and now. Make you cum all over yourself. Make you take his thick cock over and over.

Leon pulls away with a growl, pupils blown, “Honey, you can’t say things like that.”

You suddenly realize you had spoken out loud— babbling, just spouting out whatever crossed your mind. You’re so far gone now, high on arousal.

“I-I can’t help it,” you pant, “it’s so good, sir.”

“I know, my slutty little secretary just can’t help herself,” he pulls away from your chest, “she’s just gagging for her boss’ dick, right?”

You whimper, back arching, “N-no, I’m—“

“Shhh,” he thumbs open the button on his slacks, “was gonna wait but you need it more than I thought.”

He presses the fabric down until he frees his cock. He tugs your panties to the side and presses the fat head of his dick inside your wet hole.

“Was gonna make you cum from your tits but I think this might be a bit better, huh,” he grins, eyes dark and mean.

He doesn’t give you anytime to adjust and fucks up into you, grabbing your hips to pull you down at the same time. You scream from the too much feeling in your spasming cunt.

“Oh,” he groans, “tight as a fucking virgin.”

He smacks your ass with a condescending laugh, “Did I pop your cherry, sweetheart?”

Crying now, you shake your head no.

“Aww,” he mockingly pouts at you, “that’s too bad then.”

Without waiting for your pussy to adjust, he pulls out halfway to bully his fat cock back into your aching hole.

“Sir, please, I can’t,” your breath hitches on a cry, “s’too big. It hurts.”

“Fuck,” he pulls you down until his cock is buried deep in your pussy, “my big cock too much for this needy hole?”

You hiccup a sob, “Please, sir.”

“Mmm you’ll get used to it,” he pulls out til just the tip is teasing your hole then shoves his cock back deep inside your pussy.

You’re crying and clinging onto his shoulders, but a low heat is slowly building in your abdomen.

“There we go,” he coos, “just needed to fuck you a little first, honey.”

He stopped thrusting and you realize you’re the one grinding down onto his dick—a panting mouth, hazy eyed mess.

You whine but can’t stop your hips from rolling down onto the thick cock stretching you out so painfully.

“Good girl,” he smacks your ass again and you moan.

“You can ride this dick whenever you want, honey, just gotta ask,” he smirks, guiding your hips to fuck down harder.

“Yes, sir,” you slur, brain fuzzy from how deep he’s inside your cunt.

“Little slut,” he laughs, thumb brushing against your clit in slow circles, “cream my cock, honey. Want you squeezing on me when I breed that little pussy.”

You moan loudly, hips humping down on his cock, “Leon!”

“That’s right,” he groans low in his chest, “gonna creampie your sweet little cunt.”

His voice and hard cock, paired with the thumb on your clit, is edging you closer and closer to climax.

“Sir, ‘m close,” you pant, tears dripping from your eyes, “gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“That’s it, honey,” he tilts his head down and pulls his thumb away from your clit.

He spits on your pussy, globs of drool dripping down the hood of your clit. He brings his thumb back to rub the slippery mess over and over and over into your sensitive bud.

Your back arches, eyes rolling back, as you clamp down on his pistoning dick. Slick coats his cock as you cum, pussy walls squeezing him like a vice.

“Fuck yeah,” he chuckles, thumb still pressing into your clit, “cream my cock so I can fill up that cunt.”

Your thighs jump and twitch from overstimulation as he keeps teasing your clit and grinding his cock deep in your pussy.

“Take it, honey, fucking take it,” he grits out, snapping his hips up into your squelching hole and pumping you full of hot cum.

You moan brokenly, pussy fluttering around his throbbing cock, liking how it feels to get creampied by your boss.

He leans back into his chair with a sigh, “Damn, gotta say that’s been worth the months of us dancing around each other.”

Your head feels totally empty so you only hum in response.

“Did I fuck you dumb, sweetheart?” He smirks, tweaking your nipples making you squeal, “s’okay, we got all weekend to do this. Just need you back in business by Monday.”

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