#spy works recruitment

[bagheerita]

"Inquisition" fails the DS9/SGA test that "Whispers" passed with flying colors.

[jewishcissiekj]

Teren and Asajj make me ill because they have such different ideas of how to make the galaxy better and how to achieve their goals no matter what AU I put Teren into and when they meet Asajj is so broken and seeing everything Asajj is breaks Teren because she realizes the Galaxy can be seen through her eyes in a whole other way and they are both forced to run away together because of Order 66/the rise of The Empire and they're just. They have to find a way to take everything they both are and make a path for both of them, because even when they can let go they are just so tied to one another

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Watch alert 🚨weewoo weewoo🚨 watch spotted in your Vic piece

Marking the third watch we've seen with him! I wonder how many he has in total. And if there's any sentimental reasons behind his snobbery over them.

-⌚anon (ps the art looks awesome as ways, and your riot kings redraw really shows how much you've developed!! idk any better way to describe it than the characters interact with each other in a more natural way? Regardless, what a way to celebrate three years! Congrats again!)

Yeah! :D

he probably has about half a dozen? It's not a huge collection, but he likes a good watch, especially in older styles. There's some sentimentality to the watches, but it's mostly just because it's something nice and shiny he allows himself to collect. Even with the huge compound he could store things at, Vic is kind of a minimalist. Still, he likes to dress nice when he's not in the field

And thank you!! :D it's super fun to do redraws and compare them with old art 🥰🥰

[cheebdraws]

Ulan has some very ... interesting recruitment techniques. Not that Jesse seems to mind. 

[just-aake]

Detecting Love

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A person with the power to detect lies meets the spy who has been trained to lie her entire life.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 6169

You have the power to detect lies. 

Now, it’s not exactly strong enough to be a hero, but you can honestly say that it has been useful in your life. 

Sure, it gets annoying at times, but one of the many lessons you’ve learned is to ignore minor instances of dishonesty — white lies or small things like that — since it helps reduce unnecessary confusion or chaos with others.

People lie. That is an undeniable fact of life.

And while one may believe that being able to detect such things is great, the truth is there are times when you find yourself resenting your power. 

Because, of course, everyone experiences moments when they wish that someone important to them isn't lying.

Like when your fiancée tells you she loves you.

There wasn’t really a malicious reason behind why a usually affectionate statement suddenly became so hurtful.

There was no cheating.

There was no fighting.

It was just another one of the many lessons you’ve learned in life.

That sometimes…a truth can also become a lie.

It’s just unfortunate that this lesson happened to you in such a way.

These kinds of moments make you wonder if maybe it’s better that people shouldn’t always know when someone is lying to them.

Then they don’t end up alone, drinking at a bar late into the night, trying to numb the pain of a broken heart.

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the pair of rings resting on the bar top, remembering the conversation that ended with one of them being returned to you. 

It was a heart-wrenching discussion where your fiancée confessed her steadily changed feelings for you, leading to the resolution to remain friends. 

And while neither of you is completely at fault for why things ended, you can’t help but blame your stupid power for putting you in the situation in the first place. 

You sigh heavily once more before swiftly downing the glass the bartender had set in front of you.

At least your current attempt to drown your sorrow is going well, judging by how the rings start to blur in your vision.

With a sad sigh, you reach for the rings to put them away, but in your clumsy state, one slips from your grasp and tumbles to the floor.

Just as you move to retrieve it, a hand beats you to it. 

Looking up, you find a red-haired stranger standing before you, offering the ring to you with a charming smile.

She looks familiar but the drunken haze in your brain makes it hard for you to remember where you’ve seen her before.

“Here, you dropped this,” she says, her voice low and smooth.

She’s beautiful and her voice sounds perfect. You think to yourself as you take the ring from her.

She chuckles lightly, “Thanks.”

Oh, did you say that out loud? You must be more drunk than you thought.

The woman offers her hand to you in greeting, and with a confident smirk, she introduces herself.

“My name’s Natalie. Natalie Rushman.”

Immediately, a red aura surrounds her, causing you to roll your eyes and return your attention back to the bar. 

“Liar,” you mutter tiredly as you gesture to the bartender to close your tab, not really in the mood to deal with any more lies tonight.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the stranger give you a slightly impressed look.

Ready to leave, you stand up quickly from your seat.

However, the action makes the room suddenly spin in your vision, causing you to stagger backward. 

A hand steadies you, resting gently on your back, and you unconsciously lean back against her surprisingly strong frame for support.

There’s a soft chuckle near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let me try again,” she whispers smoothly, guiding you upright and turning you around to face her.

Offering her hand once more, she reintroduces herself.

“My name’s Natasha Romanoff. I’m here to recruit you to work for the Avengers.”

You blink slowly, trying to comprehend her words through your drunken haze. You wonder if the alcohol is affecting you more than you thought when no red aura appears this time at her words.

Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head in disbelief, unfortunately worsening the pounding in your skull. 

Work for the Avengers? That has to be a lie.

Before you can think about it any further, you feel yourself falling once more, unable to remain upright.

Strong arms catch you, and as your consciousness fades, you see a blurry glimpse of her striking green eyes before succumbing to darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You wake to the pounding in your head and the bright sunlight streaming through your window. Turning away, you groan into your pillow, remembering that your fiancée – your ex-fiancée – would typically close the curtains before leaving for work.

Now that she’s gone, you’re going to have to adjust to living alone once again.

A cup being placed on the nightstand startles you into sitting up, as you turn in surprise to find the beautiful red-haired stranger beside your bed.

“For your headache,” she explains, placing some medicine next to the cup.

Your mouth hangs open as you struggle to remember the events of last night, some of which are honestly a blur. 

You examine yourself, checking your clothes and finding them unchanged from the previous night, and then you scan your surroundings again and realize in relief that nothing was out of place.

Well, except for the presence of this stranger in your home, who’s patiently waiting for you to gather yourself.

Searching through your drunken memories, you think you vaguely remember meeting her last night. She had mentioned her name was — Nata…? 

“Natalie?” you ask with uncertainty.

At her raised brow, you quickly apologize, feeling bad for not remembering correctly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember, but did we���did something happen between us last night?” you ask hesitantly.

Her face twists in genuine sadness and disappointment, causing a panic to run through you as you struggle to recall what could’ve possibly happened between the two of you for her to have such an expression.

“I’m hurt,” she finally says, placing a hand on her chest, “And after you even said that it was the best night of your life.”

Seeing the familiar red aura appear around her at her words, you let out a brief sigh of relief before realization sets in, and you give her a hard glare.

“You’re lying.”

Her hurt expression quickly morphs into an impressed look, and you are slightly startled at how effortlessly she was able to shift her emotions. 

The woman straightens her posture and crosses her arms, adopting a commanding stance that seems more likely her typical demeanor.

“So it’s not just luck,” she remarks, studying you curiously. 

At her words, you quickly rise from your bed in confusion.

However, the action causes you to wince in pain at the pounding in your head. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you hold your head in comfort and lean lightly on the nightstand for support. 

As you do, your hand brushes against yesterday’s newspaper that you had been reading moments before your ex said those fateful three words that led to the heartbreaking conversation between the two of you. 

When the pain subsides, you slowly open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the front page before doing a double take.

The front features an article about the opening of the new Avenger Compound, including a photo capturing the Avenger members posed in front of the completed building. 

What catches you off guard is the uncanny resemblance between one of the Avengers in the picture and the woman standing before you.

Pointing at her in disbelief, you stammer.

“You’re…,” then, gesturing at the newspaper, you continue, “…her?”

She doesn’t respond to your question but instead nods toward your other room, inviting you to follow.

“Let’s talk,” she says, heading toward your door, then gestures at the medicine on your nightstand. “But drink those first.”

After freshening up in your bathroom, you take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror, noticing the remnants of last night’s tears in your slightly puffy, red eyes. 

Sighing, you brush away the depressing thoughts of your failed relationship before taking the medicine and exiting your room.

You are greeted by the sight of your unexpected guest comfortably seated at your kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine with casual disinterest.

“You’re Black Widow,” you say confidently this time, positioning yourself on the opposite side of her.

She closes the magazine with a snap, placing it on the table before clasping her hands atop of it and meeting your gaze.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects you, before nodding at you. “And you’re Y/n L/n.”

“How did you…?”

She holds up a wedding invitation draft, displaying you and your fiancée’s names printed in fine lettering. 

Realizing that she must have been snooping around your things, you give her a disapproving glare, snatching the card from her hand and hastily stuffing it into a drawer.

Feeling a mixture of emotions—irritated, sad, hungover—you turn to the fridge, deciding to make breakfast to give yourself some focus. 

After you retrieve the eggs and other ingredients, you heat the stove before glancing at Natasha briefly, asking, “So, what does an Avenger want from me?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her resting her head against her hand, watching you with interest.

“I told you yesterday,” she replies.

You roll your eyes, giving her a deadpan look, knowing she’s aware that you don’t remember.

“Remind me again.”

Natasha gives you an amused smirk, straightening up in her seat. 

“Alright, I’m here to recruit you, more specifically for a sort of managerial position at the new Avenger Compound.”

Furrowing your brows, you question, “Why me? I don't have experience with that sort of thing.”

“But you can tell when someone is lying, can’t you?”

Pausing briefly in your cooking, you contemplate her words and its possible implications. Not many people know about your ability, and you don’t think you did anything to reveal it to the spy who’s currently staring expectantly at you.

So, in response, you shrug, replying as casually as possible. 

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people…psychology degree and all.”

A silence ensues, broken only by the sizzling of your cooking, until Natasha finally nods, seemingly accepting your explanation.

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, returning your attention to your current task.

But then she pulls out a folder filled with documents and places it on the counter, causing your nerves to rise again.

“Well, you’ve helped solve hundreds of cases with your interviews of the suspects,” she remarks casually, flipping through the folder before glancing up at you through her lashes. 

“100% accuracy rate in the information that you provided to the detectives,” she continues, nodding at you in acknowledgment. “For a part-time profiler, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” you respond with a polite smile, but beneath the surface, a hint of suspicion creeps in as you begin plating the meal you made.

Natasha closes the folder with a definitive snap, making you look at her. 

“You could say it’s almost impossible,” she muses, before a confident smirk forms on her face, and she tilts her head at you with a raised brow in challenge. 

“Unless there’s some way you can guarantee that they’re telling the truth.”

Honestly, you should’ve known better than to think that the experienced spy hadn’t already completed thorough research and investigations into you and your powers before meeting with you.

If anything, this was likely just a test for her to confirm what she already knows about your abilities.

Sliding a plate across the counter to Natasha with a pointed glare, you relent, deciding there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“Fine, what do you know?” 

Instead of responding, Natasha’s gaze lingers on the plate before her, a hint of confusion in her expression. 

Her plate holds a fluffy omelette accompanied by a side of crispy bacon and a slice of golden-brown toasted bread.

As she glances back up at you with a questioning look in her eyes, you take a seat across from her, setting down a similar plate in front of you before also placing a stack of fluffy pancakes at the center.

“What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the meal.

“Breakfast,” you reply bluntly, taking a bite from your plate.

Natasha raises a brow at you, remarking plainly, “It’s noon.”

“Brunch then,” you correct with a roll of your eyes.

Natasha's lips quirk up in amusement, and she shakes her head.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.” 

The red aura appears around her, and with your mouth full of food, you give her a pointed glare.

“Right,” Natasha says in realization, remembering what you can do. She pulls the plate closer to her with a soft thanks. 

The atmosphere that followed was unusual but surprisingly not awkward. Despite being practically strangers, you find yourself slightly comforted by Natasha’s presence. 

If she wasn’t here, you probably wouldn’t have dragged yourself out of bed today after what happened yesterday.

After a moment of eating, Natasha breaks the silence.

“So, how can you tell when someone’s lying?”

Pausing to contemplate your answer, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before responding. 

“Well, when someone lies, there’s always this rush of chemicals that happens in their bodies,” you explain. “It ends up causing the typical indicators — things like fidgeting, sweating, or tone changes in their voice.”

“I didn’t do any of that, yet you still knew I was lying,” Natasha points out.

“No, you're right,” you admit, nodding. “You’re a perfect liar.”

From what you have seen so far, every expression and comment of hers appears genuine and honest, and if it was anyone else, they’d probably believe anything she says.

However, thanks to your ability, you know better. 

Gesturing at her, you clarify, “You still give off the same chemical reactions though, and I have the ability to see that.”

Natasha leans back in her seat, crossing her arms as she processes your explanation.

“It’s mainly visual then,” she concludes before asking curiously. “You don’t even need to hear what they said to know that they’re lying?” 

You nod, ruefully adding, “Yep, my world’s just filled with people glowing red at random.”

“And how long does this ‘glow’ stay around them?”

“Depends,” you reply with a shrug. “Usually not long, maybe a few seconds.”

Natasha hums in interest, tapping her chin, her brows pinching lightly in thought.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the sight. 

For a person who has such an intimidating reputation, the spy in front of you right now looks kind of cute rather than scary.

After a moment, you break the silence this time.

“So, what’s the job?” 

Natasha’s eyes focus back on you at your question.

“Nothing too complicated,” she assures. “You’ll be in charge of interviewing the new employee candidates and conducting continuous reviews of the current ones.”

“You mean like screening them?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion, already aware of the rigorous and difficult process required to work at the Avengers buildings. 

“Don’t you guys already do extensive background checks before hiring people? Why do you suddenly need me?”

At your question, a charming smile appears on her face, effortlessly shifting her expression like before, though now you understand she’s just hiding her true feelings about the situation.

“That’s confidential.”

You scoff in disbelief and cross your arms.

“You do know that just makes it harder to trust you, right?”

Natasha mirrors your posture, her pretty grin still in place, masking any other emotions.

“Fair point,” she admits. “But to be honest, you should never put your trust in people like me anyway.”

“People like you?” 

“Spies,” Natasha clarifies as she begins to gather her empty plate and utensils. “Which is one of the types of people you’d be looking out for in this position. Their deception skills would be on a similar level to mine.”

You chuckle at that, causing Natasha to pause in her actions, raising a brow at you in question.

“Sorry, but everyone lies, whether you’re a spy or not,” you tell her, standing and taking the empty plate from her with a small smirk. “You’re just slightly better at it.”

A tiny offended look slips through Natasha’s expression at your little jab, her brow furrowing for a brief second.

Your grin widens at the sight of seeing a glimpse of her real self as you turn to place the dirty dishes in the sink.

Natasha quickly regains her composure, moving around the counter to lean back against the table next to you.

“In any case, the decision is still yours. I’ve already confirmed your abilities. It’s up to you to decide if you want to accept.”

At her words, you pause to consider your options. 

A new job working with the Avengers is a great opportunity, but it would be a significant change in your life. 

Then again, you’re already facing a huge change.

Your eyes unconsciously drift to the drawer next to where Natasha is leaning, where the wedding invitation draft remains, and your face twists in sadness at the memory. 

You guess it wouldn’t hurt to add a career change alongside your new relationship status.

At least this way you can still earn a salary while also distracting yourself from the depressing thoughts of your failed engagement. 

“Okay,” you decide, meeting Natasha’s gaze with a sigh, “I’ll take the job.”

“Great, I knew you would be agreeable,” Natasha remarks, extending her hand to you.

A red aura appears around her, causing you to huff and roll your eyes.

You take her hand in yours, giving her a tiny glare.

“Liar.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

You say that as you dodge another swing from Natasha, ducking under her arm to get behind her, only for her to twist her body around and deliver a kick that you narrowly block with your arms. 

Still, the impact has you stumbling back.

“Really?” Natasha asks with an innocent tone as she circles you. “I thought I mentioned to you that training was a part of your employment.”

A red aura begins to appear around her, but you don’t have time to comment before she swings her leg at you again. 

You catch it against your side with a small grunt of pain.

Having been a profiler for criminal cases before, you do have basic defense training, and you always believed that you could hold your own against most aggressors. 

At least you used to.

This current fight is making you reconsider your skills.

With her off-balance position, you attempt to throw her to the ground, but Natasha swiftly regains her footing, catching herself on her hands and executing a fluid movement to flip upright. She then bends low, sweeping your legs out from under you.

You land on the mat with a groan, feeling the impact reverberate through your body. Another pained breath escapes you as Natasha expertly pins you down.

You catch the faint red aura fading from her before throwing your head back against the mat with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re such a liar,” you breathe out, your voice tinged with both exhaustion and playful accusation. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to catch your breath.

Natasha's laughter fills the air, resonating above you, her amusement infectious and drawing a small grin from you. You peek open your eyes, watching as she disengages from atop you and heads over to her water bottle at the side.

“I’m a spy. It comes with the job,” she says casually, taking a sip.

“Okay, and I’m basically just HR,” you counter, pulling yourself upright into a sitting position. “So how does combat training fit into that?”

Natasha gestures towards you with a sweep of her hand.

“You need to be prepared to defend yourself if you ever expose someone dangerous and find yourself without backup,” she explains.

“That’s unlikely considering I haven’t even encountered anyone suspicious since I started,” you remark with a sigh.

It's been a month already, and you're starting to question if your presence here is even necessary.

Before you can dwell further on your thoughts, the cold touch of a metal water bottle against your cheek startles you.

Recoiling, you look up to see Natasha holding it out to you.

Raising a brow, Natasha waves the bottle lightly in offer.

You snatch the bottle from her with a tiny glare, but she only smirks in response.

Apart from the new job, the other surprising addition to your life is your budding friendship with the Avenger. 

After the whole recruiting ordeal, you honestly expected to only have passing encounters with her at the compound.

However, to your surprise, on your first day here, Natasha was the one who volunteered to give you a tour of the place, and in the days that followed, the two of you would often share coffee and chat before you had to head off to your respective jobs.

Those regular interactions with her also earned you a fearsome reputation among the other workers, which actually works out in your favor since they’re already nervous by the time you call them in for a review. This way they are more likely to slip up and reveal anything they may be hiding.

But, like you said, you haven’t found anything substantial yet.

With a heavy sigh, you pull your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them, feeling the weight of failure bearing down on you.

Then you hear Natasha plop down beside you.

“Back when we met, you asked me why we needed you,” she begins.

Curious at her words, you turn your head slightly to glance at her, waiting for her explanation.

Natasha leans back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she continues to speak.

“A couple of months ago, our surveillance revealed that someone within the compound staff was plotting an attack during the opening ceremony of the new building. However, we couldn’t confirm who it was without risking exposing that we knew of their plan."

Your eyes widen in confusion at the revelation. From what you remember, the opening ceremony was a success. There hadn’t been any news of an attack that day.

“But you caught them, right?” you inquire.

“No,” Natasha responds, shaking her head before meeting your gaze. “You did.”

Surprised, you straighten up, giving her a questioning look.

Natasha offers a small smile, elaborating, “You had recently interviewed him as a suspect for another case, and in your notes, you labeled him as dangerous and untrustworthy, despite everything about him proving otherwise.”

“And you believed me?” you ask incredulously.

Natasha shrugs, “Well, I had no other leads at the time anyway.”

You scoff in exasperation at her teasing, playfully pushing her away.

She chuckles softly before adopting a more serious expression.

“Trust in your abilities, Y/n,” Natasha says with a genuine tone. “If it’s you, not finding anyone suspicious is a good thing.”

You watch her closely, waiting for the red aura to appear.

But as a couple of seconds pass and nothing changes, you tuck your forehead back against your knees, this time to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Alright, break’s over,” Natasha announces, giving your back an encouraging pat. “Let’s go again.”

You groan in reluctance, remaining in your curled-up position.

“Come on,” Natasha urges, her tone coaxing. “I’ll go easy on you this time.”

You don’t even need to look up to know the red aura is surrounding her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“What’s this?”

Natasha's voice draws your attention away from the task of pouring cooked popcorn into a bowl.

She's sitting on your sofa, examining a small, elegant card that you had accidentally left on the table.

Widening your eyes in realization of what she’s found, you hurry over to her, but her narrowed eyes tell you that she has already read the names on the card.

“She’s inviting you to her wedding?” Natasha exclaims, disbelief coloring her tone. “It’s only been a year since your breakup, and now she’s already getting married?!”

Sighing in disappointment, you had hoped to keep this information from Natasha, who developed a strong dislike for your ex after you shared the details of your breakup during one of your girls' nights.

Placing the bowl of popcorn on the table, you take the invitation from her hand and head to the kitchen, intending to tuck it away in a drawer. 

As you slide it open, you catch the sight of the old wedding draft buried at the bottom, which causes a tiny pang of sadness in your chest at the memory of that time, of how everything changed so suddenly.

You can't help but wonder how your life might have unfolded if your engagement hadn't ended.

Would you still have accepted Natasha's offer if you hadn't been seeking a distraction from your failed relationship? 

“You’re not thinking about going, are you?” Natasha's voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Glancing up, you notice a peculiar look in her eyes, though it quickly shifts to a neutral expression at your gaze.

After a whole year of spending time together, you could tell underneath her impassive expression that she was upset about something; though, you figured it was just outrage at the situation.

Tossing the invitation into the drawer and shutting it, you offer her a small reassuring smile before returning to your seat beside her to start the movie.

“No, of course not,” you tell her.

As the opening scenes play, you maintain a normal, nonchalant expression, aware of Natasha's gaze still lingering on you even as the red aura fades from around your body.

After a while, Natasha huffs in disbelief before finally settling into the sofa, pulling the bowl of popcorn into her lap.

“You better be sharing that, Romanoff,” you tease, your eyes fixed on the screen.

Natasha scoffs before tossing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course, I will.”

Just as you're about to turn your head to look at her and confirm her honesty, she swiftly shoves a cushion pillow to the side of your face, blocking your view.

After a few seconds, she releases it, fluffing the cushion casually before leaning her head against your shoulder and tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

You chuckle at her antics, amused by her playful behavior, before returning your attention to the screen.

A few days later, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of the wedding area, observing as servers and workers hustle to complete the finishing touches.

A sad, bittersweet expression tugs at your lips as you recognize familiar details chosen by your ex, mingled with hints of a stranger’s preferences in the decorations.

To be honest, you don’t intend to stay for the wedding. You're just here to confirm something for yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, conjuring your ex’s face in your mind, and whisper to yourself. 

“I’m in love with her…”

Opening your eyes, you exhale slowly, a content smile on your lips as you notice the red aura surrounding your skin. It's a relief to be able to find closure regarding your feelings for your ex.

“You know, I don’t need powers to know you were lying,” a voice remarks from behind.

Startled, you turn to find Natasha approaching.

She stops beside you, her gaze fixed at the scene ahead as she accuses, “Saying that you weren’t going to come here.”

You look at her briefly before returning your attention to the field.

“I got curious about something,” you admit. “Figured that this was one way to confirm it.”

Excited and happy chatter fills the air as your ex appears, surrounded by friends and family.

Suddenly, thoughts of what-ifs from the other night resurface, prompting you to ask out loud unconsciously before you can stop yourself.

“Do you think I should’ve just pretended that she was telling the truth at that time — when she said she loved me?” you ask Natasha. “Maybe it might’ve worked out between us if I just kept my mouth shut.”

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha finally responds, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

“From my experience,” she begins, “I can tell you that living a lie would not make you happy…no matter how much you wish for it to be true.”

You chuckle lightly, “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha says confidently.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both observe the preparations from a distance.

“She is a fool for letting you go, though,” Natasha suddenly adds, her tone casual.

You laugh softly, gently chiding her, “You can’t call the bride that on her wedding day.”

“Alright then,” Natasha concedes, turning to you. “You’re an even bigger fool for coming here by yourself.”

She returns her gaze to the field, muttering under her breath with a hint of irritation, “…still visiting the one who broke your heart.”

Amused, you tilt your head to catch her eyes, chuckling at her words, as you tease, “You know, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

When Natasha doesn’t respond or look at you, you raise a brow in surprise and poke her side. 

“Wait, seriously, are you jealous?”

She swats your hand away.

“Stop that,” Natasha reprimands, before gritting out, “I’m not jealous!”

A small grin forms on your face as you notice the red aura appear, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and walk away.

“I’m leaving,” she declares firmly.

“Aww, come on, Natasha,” you call as you trail behind her.

Glancing back at you and seeing your pleased expression, she points at you in warning.

“That smile better be off your face by the time I pull up, or else you’re walking home,” she states before continuing on her way.

Watching her go with a fond smile, you find yourself softly repeating the words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Looking down, your smile widens when you don’t see the red aura appear, confirming what you already knew about your feelings for the red-haired spy.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As you sit in your office at the Avenger compound, you feel a sense of fatigue wash over you at your busy schedule of back-to-back interviews.

Across from you, the final candidate squirms in her seat, clearly nervous under your scrutinizing gaze. 

A chill sweeps through the room, courtesy of the cold blast of air from the AC, and you can't help but regret your decision to have it set so cold, a choice originally intended to maintain an intimidating atmosphere during interviews. 

With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your hands from the cozy warmth of your hoodie pocket and turn to the next page of questions.

"Let's talk about handling confidential information," you begin, your voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Can you share a time when you had to ensure the secure handling of sensitive data?"

The candidate responds with some slight hesitation, but you sense it’s more from her nerves than any dishonesty, so you continue, moving on to the remaining questions.

Luckily, the rest of the interview goes by quickly and smoothly with her answering the other questions without any problems.

However, now comes the final question of the interview.

“Among the Avengers, who do you consider to be the hottest?”

Clearly caught off-guard, she stumbles over her words, “W-what?” 

Maintaining your serious demeanor, you repeat the question.

“Who do you believe is the hottest Avenger?”

After a moment's pause, she softly answers, “Black Widow..."

Setting your clipboard down, you extend your hand.

"Thank you for coming. It was nice meeting you," you say, signaling the end of the interview.

As she thanks you and leaves, you flip to the last paper on your clipboard, revealing a sheet with tick marks beside the names of your Avenger friends.

With an amused smile, you add another mark at the end of Natasha’s already leading line.

“I don’t think that last question was approved by Steve,” a voice accuses from the doorway.

Glancing up, you see Natasha leaning against the frame, her arms folded.

You shrug in response, “Makes it more interesting though.”

Natasha hums curiously before moving to your side, perching on the edge of your desk. Her narrowed eyes fix on you.

“Is that my hoodie?” she asks in suspicion as she tugs at your sleeve.

“Maybe,” you reply, hastily pulling the hood over your head to conceal your guilty eyes.

Natasha had left the piece of clothing at your place after her last visit, and given the chilly room, borrowing it seemed harmless enough.

“Don’t you have a briefing to get to?” you deflect, attempting to change the subject.

Natasha huffs knowingly before responding, "I had some spare time, so I came to bother you."

"I’m honored," you quip sarcastically, though inwardly your heart warmed at the fact that she thought of you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, then gestures towards your clipboard.

"Ask me some questions," she prompts, her tone playful yet eager.

Deciding to indulge her, you reach for your clipboard and adopt a serious demeanor.

“Name?” you begin.

Natasha shoots you a deadpan look, prompting you to show her the document with the question written on it.

“If they lie about their name, then that’s a red flag already,” you defend, giving her a pointed look.

“Natalie,” you mock.

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head at the memory before extending her hand.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects, playing along.

Skipping past the other general questions, you delve into more targeted inquiries related to threat assessment.

“Have you ever been associated with any extremist or radical groups or organizations?” you ask.

“If you consider working undercover to gain intel on them, then yes,” Natasha responds without hesitation.

“Have you ever participated or been involved in any violent behavior where someone was hurt?”

This one makes her pause for a moment before she finally admits softly, "…yes."

As the questioning continues, Natasha's playful demeanor gradually fades, replaced by a rueful tone.

By the time you reach the final question, she places her hand on your clipboard, gently setting it down on the desk.

"Maybe these questions aren’t meant for people like me," she says sadly, her tone filled with regret.

Observing her disappointed expression, you scoot closer and rest your hand on hers to draw her attention.

“Do you still want to hear my final assessment?” you ask gently.

After a contemplative pause, Natasha nods, curiosity evident in her eyes as she gestures for you to continue.

“Well, based on your answers,” you say with a dramatic pause, flipping through the papers before shaking your head firmly.

“Absolutely not. Extremely dangerous. Definitely a high-risk candidate.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your teasing and gives you a playful push. As your laughter subsides, you soften your tone, meeting her gaze sincerely.

“But…I’d trust you,” you admit genuinely.

Natasha's eyes widen slightly before she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. Her fingers toy with the clipboard, flipping to the last page and seeing the score sheet, before chuckling in amusement.

Turning back to you, she tilts her head with a raised brow.

“I don’t get the special question?” she asks.

You take the clipboard from her, offering a knowing look as you begin to organize the documents on your desk.

“I think we both already know your answer to that question,” you reply.

“Then ask me another,” Natasha insists.

Her request makes you pause as you ponder what to ask. Only one thing comes to mind, the question you’ve been hesitating to ask her for a long time.

Meeting her expectant gaze, you find yourself wanting to know the answer, despite the fear in your mind at the possibility of causing another big change in your life again.

Summoning your courage, you face her directly.

“Would you…,” you start, faltering momentarily before gathering yourself with a deep breath.

“...would you say ‘yes’ if I asked you out on a date tonight?”

There's a moment of silence, and just as you consider retracting the question, Natasha reaches out and adjusts the hood atop your head.

Perplexed by her action, you watch her suspiciously. Then, in one swift motion, she pulls the hood down over your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“No,” her voice responds to your question.

Hearing her stand, you quickly remove the hood to see Natasha already making her way out of the door, but before she disappears from your view, you catch the red aura surrounding her slowly fading away.

As an excited smile spreads across your face at the revelation of her true answer, your phone on the desk pings with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Natasha.

I’ll pick you up tonight. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 2

a/n: Thank you for reading! I know I said I was going to take a little break, but I had some time so I ended up finishing this and decided to post it now instead of later.

[the-californicationist]

That Fire is Repeated

AO3 Link

From an anonymous ask: fic of where instead of Price, it's reader who's been infected with sex pollen?👉👈please and thank u!

Deep in the southern jungles of Urzikstan, Captain Price is sent to help with your extraction. On your way out of the makeshift Konni laboratory, you accidentally step on a trap, and Price volunteers to save your life.

“I can’t hear her comms!” Simon yelled out over the noise of the helicopter, pointing to his headset and giving the thumbs down to Laswell.

She typed something into her datapad and showed it to him, yelling back,

“Dead zone! You’ll have to go in on foot.”

Price adjusted his vest and checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded,

“I’ll go. She’s my recruit, my responsibility.”

“Sure you’ll wanna be the big hero for her, too, huh?” Farah laughed from the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder as Price twisted his face, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink from his shame. 

It was well-known that Price had a terribly strong crush on you. You had accepted his advances, but he was reluctant to take it further, realizing that fraternizing was frowned upon. So, you pined for each other from afar, and the whole base knew about it.

Laswell rolled her eyes at Farah’s comment, 

“Should we go back to basics? Captain: don’t subtract from the population,” her eyes narrowed, “Don’t add to the population…”

“Yeah, alright, Kate. Got it. Loud and clear,” Price waved her off, staring out the window and ignoring the obvious ribbing from his colleagues. 

“Go get Sparrow and let’s go the fuck home,” Laswell hollered at him, opening the door to the chopper and letting the air whoosh inside.

The wind stung his cheeks, and the tall grass blades spun and twirled like violent dancers as he made his way towards the old, dilapidated lab. You’d been sent to infiltrate secret Konni operations here, disguised as a chemist. Now that the Konni operatives had been dispatched, you secured the intel and were ready for extraction. Price was ready to have you back. These types of ops were so delicate. One wrong move would put you in danger. He was glad the worst of it was over. 

As quickly and as carefully as he could, Price made his way inside. It was a little odd that you weren’t outside waiting for the extraction, so his guard was up. In the main lab, he spotted you, standing with your bag and your weapon with your back towards him. 

“Little bird?” Price questioned under his breath, moving forward slowly, using the pet name he saved for when you two were alone. 

“Hey, Captain. Glad you made it,” you called out to him, your voice tinged with obvious sobbing and stress. 

“What is it, Spar? What’s happened?”

He made his way around the lab table and saw you. You were standing stock-still, staring down at your foot. Then, he knew what had made you cry. 

Jutting out of your pant leg, a giant syringe was stuck into your calf, empty.

Price leaned down to help you, removing the needle, panicking at the thought of losing you,

“Can you move?”

“When I do… Captain, it’s excruciating.”

“Fuck,” Price tried the comms. But, then he remembered it was a dead zone, and no one was coming to help him. He asked you, “Is it poison? How’d this happen?”

“They call it XLR8. It’s what they’ve been working on. A prototype. I was bending down to grab my bag and this was rigged to hit me. They knew I was a spy.”

“What does it do, this prototype?” You heard his voice quiver at the end of his question. 

You blushed, laughing a bit, 

“It incapacitates you, first. Removes your inhibitions, next. Then, it causes extreme vasodilation…”

“In the Queen’s bloody English, love. Please…”

“John,” you used his name, looking up into his eyes, “I may ask you to do things to me. Things that I might not usually ask for. And I want you to know that you don’t have to listen to me. I don’t want you to do anything… I don’t want to force you to do… things…”

“Birdie. Tell me what I need to know.”

“When the Konni scientists injected it into mice, they would breed… for hours. They wouldn’t eat, they wouldn’t sleep. One time, a researcher opened the door to the cage, and they didn’t escape. They only bred…” You looked at him in his eyes, making sure he heard you, “But, the mice who were alone in their cages and were given XLR8 got a high fever and died. Every last one of them”

“Are you… “ Price pointed down at your leg, “Do you mean to say that you’ll need someone to…”

You looked down at the ground, steeling yourself for the harsh reality of what was to come,

“When the drugs hit my system, the effects were immediate. Stage one should be almost over now.. You’ll… you’ll know it when you see stage two. But, listen to me, John. I couldn’t live with myself if I forced you to do something that you would regret. Please. I’m sure they’ll think of some other way to help me…”

“Little bird,” he caught your gaze and smiled softly at you, “I’m here for you. I’m not going to let anythin’ happen to you. I won’t lose you to this. I can’t… I care about you too much. I’m going to catch you, and we’re going to get out of here. Just fall forward into my arms, love. I know it hurts. We need to get you to the bloody medic as soon as we can.”

You nodded, and then you did as he commanded. Every movement felt like some sort of hell. You could hear yourself screaming, but it was muffled, your face buried in his chest. You were hanging, limp, against John’s body. You could feel every stinging step he took as it jostled your body. Suddenly, you heard the angry clipping of chopper blades. Then, you passed out. 

Sometime later, you awoke, still on the chopper, sitting in the jump seat way in the back. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Price was sitting in the jumpseat and you were… straddling his lap. 

You were humping him, shamelessly, right in front of Farah, Laswell, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. The helicopter was full of soldiers, and here you were, uncontrollably rocking your hips against your captain. The others tried to avert their gazes, sitting at awkward angles, trying not to watch, but that somehow made it worse. 

You cried out as if you were in pain, and Price held you closer, soothing you with his deep, rumbling voice, speaking to you right in your ear,

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, little bird. I’ve got you. Almost home. Just a few more minutes.”

“John… fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I need… oh, God.”

“I know what you need,” he kissed your neck, and he took his hand and shoved it down the front of your pants, giving you something to grind against. 

His fingers were strong, and the tips of them were thick, easily pressing through your folds for you, exciting your nerves just the way you liked.

You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself. When you did, you saw Soap’s head peek around the back of his seat. Then, a gloved, skeletal hand yanked him back around to face the front. If you didn’t die from the XLR8, you’d die from embarrassment afterward, that was certain. 

“It’s okay, bird. It’s not your fault. They know that,” he tried to reassure you, but you hid your face in his neck anyway, unable to stop your wanton writhing, soaking his fingers until they slid against you unimpeded. 

You felt your hands reach for his belt, digging under his vest and all of his equipment straps. You wanted to spear your body onto his thick cock. You were sure that it would cure you. The fever made you feel too cold and too hot all at the same time. You shivered in his arms, but your brow was dotted with beads of sweat. 

He caught your wrist to stop you,

“Just a little while longer, love. Shh, shh, shh. I know…”

You sobbed into his shoulder, ashamed and needy, too weak to fight his grip. 

“Hey, look at me,” you obeyed, and he rubbed your cheek, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

You shuddered, cresting over a brief, sharp orgasm, coming on him as quietly as you could, biting your cheek so you wouldn’t cry out. For a few seconds, you experienced some sort of relief, but then it was gone, and the overwhelming internal fire raged in your belly once more.

The chopper pitched, landing on the pad at your base, and everyone cleared out of the hull except for Laswell. She looked down at you, pity in her eyes, and then turned to him with concern,

“I’ll send a few supplies to your room. The medic wants to run some tests. How long is this supposed to last?”

John shrugged, petting the sweaty hair out of your face, tucking you in close to him in his arms,

“Not sure. Just trying to get her through it. Take her datapad. It’s got her notes from the lab.”

Laswell took it and stepped down from the chopper, jogging off to the med bay. 

“C’mon, love. Let me help you take that fever away, hm?”

You nodded, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, letting him carry you from the helicopter. It seemed like the tight coil in your belly was getting more and more tense by the moment. Your orgasm had been too weak, and it was almost like you hadn’t quite completed the event. You were just stuck in between coming and not coming, waiting for someone to put you out of your misery. What you thought had been relief was really just a prelude to the main event. It was torture. 

As you lay your head on his chest, you could smell his aftershave as it mixed with his skin, a comfortingly warm scent with woodsy spices and the faint hint of tobacco from his favorite cigars. You wanted more of it, so you turned your nose into him, running your hands across the belt of his pants, trying to pry your way in..

When he arrived in the barracks, he kicked open the door to a dark room. It smelled just like him. You realized then that you were in his quarters. He lay you on his bed and set to taking off your gear. Your boots and socks slid off, and he unclipped your vest. Then, you felt his fingers on your neck, carefully inspecting your wounds. 

“Birdie…” He shook his head, obviously regretful for what you were going through. 

You whimpered, looking up at him as you moved your hand down your own pants, rubbing yourself in front of him out of a desperate need, 

“John, I don’t know how to ask you this.”

“You don’t have to. Medic’s gonna check you out, and I’ll give you whatever you want, little bird. I promise.”

“I need you, now. I don’t… I can’t… mmmngh...”

“Captain?” A woman’s voice floated into the room from the doorway. Price cracked the door and when he saw it was the medic, he let her in. 

She knelt by the bed, and took your hand,

“Hey, Sparrow. I’m just going to check your vitals, okay?”

You nodded, trying not to stare down the dark opening of her lab coat. Her voice was so sweet, and her breasts looked full and soft. Her olive skin would probably feel so warm on your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you had your hand behind her head, kissing her neck, trying your best to unbutton her blouse.

“Easy! Easy does it,” John sat himself down behind you on the bed, positioning you between his legs, and held you back, keeping you from accosting the medic. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I… oh, my God…” You writhed, trying to fight the demonic need building inside of you.

“That’s okay,” she said, “They warned me. We’re going to get you some help… Let me take your temp… Goddamnit. She’s burning up. I’m going to give her a light sedative and something to try and cut her fever, but…”

She stopped speaking, looking up at the captain, trying to be delicate, 

“You probably need to… um… begin. The sooner the better. I’ll leave these with you,” she dropped two blue pressed pills into his hand, “Just in case you, uh, need a boost.”

Price recognized the sexual enhancement drugs and put them on his side table. He waited patiently for the medic to take a small vial of your blood. He thanked her, trying not to sound like he was in a rush (even though he was), and eventually she shut the door, leaving you two in each others’ care.

John stayed where he was, but he softened his grip, kissing your neck. He reached down and unbuttoned your pants, giving your hand room to move. You rubbed your folds faster, making tight little circles around your clit, struggling to come. 

“Nnngh… fuck. Fuck, I can’t do it. I’m so close, but…” You whined, gritting your teeth and struggling against the XLR8. It was making you woozy, and you couldn’t keep your strength up in order to get yourself over the edge. 

“Show me,” he whispered, staring down at your furious masturbation, watching your hand as it worked, “Show me how you like it, little bird. Teach me.”

Your heart raced, equal parts excited and embarrassed to show him something so personal and intimate, but you did as you were told, letting him see how your fingers worked your flesh. He sighed, and you felt his cock shift against the small of your back. 

He took over for you, sliding his hand down below yours, mimicking your movements, and getting very close to perfection. 

“That’s it!” You hissed, keening for him, “That’s… oh, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t —”

Your orgasm was almost immediate. Your body locked up, every muscle squeezing you until you were frozen, rigidly convulsing as you came on his hand. Your mouth hung open in a breathless, silent scream. Then, to your horror, you felt the heavy stain of some sort of fluid soaking through your pants. At first, you thought you’d wet yourself, but then when John pulled his hand away to inspect your emission, you saw the sticky, gooey consistency shining on his fingers. 

“What… I don’t understand. What is that?”

“It looks like your come, yeah? Quite a lot of it…” He observed. Price brought it to his nose and mouth to smell it. Then, he licked his fingers tentatively, and his eyes rolled back into his head, “Mmm. Fuck. It’s sweet.”

He lifted you so easily, it was as if you weighed nothing. Propping you up on his pillows, he helped you out of your pants and boots, stripping you down. When Price saw you, dripping and pink, splayed in front of him like a gleaming prize, he stalled. Then, he looked up at you, eyes wide with glorious wonder,

“Little bird…”

“John,” you gasped, “Please.”

He didn’t waste any more time. In a flash, your thighs were hitched up toward your chest as he shoved them back, giving his mouth access to its warm, wet reward. 

The first long lick was like its own kind of drug. Your whole body sang like a bell, trembling and ringing out for him and his soft tongue. He licked you again and pulled away, confused but pleasantly so,

“Fuck, love. You taste like strawberries. That’s… fuck.”

You lost track of time as he devoured you. His whole face was shining with your stickiness, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was gasping for air, practically drowning himself, rubbing his chin and nose through your folds as he tried to writhe his tongue deeper into your core, fucking you with it to draw out more of your slickness. 

The sounds you were making seemed almost inhuman. You were convinced you had never had a true orgasm before if this is what they were supposed to feel like. Every lap of his tongue felt like its own crescendo. You were putty in his hands, figuratively and literally judging by the dampness beneath you. 

Eventually, he made his way back up your body, peeling away your shirt and bra, rustling out of his own clothes as quickly as he could, his muscular arms getting trapped in his jacket, stretching and pulling against his heavy bones for freedom.

“You alright, little bird?” He asked you softly, crawling over you and settling himself between your shivering thighs. 

You nodded,

“Yeah, that was so amazing, John. I know its selfish, but I need more. Can… can you fuck me? Please? I’m clean, I have an IUD. Please? I won’t —”

“Shh. Hush, love. I’m not leavin’ this room ‘til I’ve cured you, one way or another. C’mere.”

He pulled you to him, kissing you, covered in your come. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he was right: it was exactly like strawberries. It must have been the stimulant, you thought. Something to… entice… 

Your mind went blank as John began to feed his fat cockhead into your hole. All of the pain and the heat from the fever disappeared, and you were normal again. Well, a very horny normal, but at least you felt some relief. 

“Oh, my God!” You cried, “That’s it. That’s what I needed. Oh…”

“Yeah?” Price narrowed his eyes, studying your face, watching your reactions with rapt attention. Where you were stabilizing, he was falling apart at the seams. 

His whole body shuddered as he slid himself into you. It was shallow at first; he was too thick to fit inside of your tight pussy, no matter how wet you were. But, as he lubed himself up in your body, he squeezed deeper and deeper inside, eventually drilling down right to his base, slamming his hips into yours like a hungry machine. 

Your screams echoed in his small room, and the metal bed creaked under his enormous weight. You could feel his power through his thrusts. He was so incredibly strong, and his muscles bent and twisted just to serve your pleasure. It was hypnotizing to watch. You were focused on the straining sinew in his immense neck when another orgasm threatened to bubble over inside of you. 

It was too soon. You’d barely recovered from the first one, and as he felt your body start to contract around his shaft, he began to moan right along with you. 

“That’s it, Birdie, let it out. C’mon. Come for me… That’s it. That’s… ungh!” He coached you, talking you through it, fighting his own pleasure like the dragon it was, the heat of his breathing furling in hot bursts down your neck. 

His eyes were wrenched shut, but between his long, aching thrusts, he rambled, spilling out his words instead of himself inside of you like he wanted to. 

“Spar… don’t you know how badly I’ve wanted this?”

Your pussy was being pounded so hard you could feel your pulse slamming against your skin.

“...I’ve wanted you… wanted to feel you…”

His face was near yours, close enough that you could still smell your sweet slick on his beard. 

“...it’s so good. I never want it to stop. Feels like heaven…”

When he wasn’t speaking in that hoarse, smoldering timbre, you could see his jaw working against itself, fighting the inevitable. 

“...so damn responsive to me. Such a good girl…”

Then, his tone turned dark, burning into your face as he spoke against your cheek through gritted teeth, 

“You want more, hm?”

“Yeah…” You whispered, your voice sounding so small. 

“Harder? You want it harder, don’t you, little bird? I can tell.”

You nodded, whispering your pleading to him in wordless gasps. He smiled. You could feel it against your skin,

“Bloody hell. Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he lamented, rising up above you, wrenching his fingers around your waist, the gentleness gone from his touch, “Fuck, Birdie. You’ll make me come. You… ah!”

He brought you with him as he tumbled over the edge. You felt like you’d been hit with a flashbang. You couldn’t hear, and your vision went white. When you begged your lungs to breathe, you couldn’t take in the air. All you could feel — the only thing your body would allow you to feel — was each silky throb of his cock as it pumped his come inside of you. You could feel it as it burst from him, and then as it melted down your walls, flowing across his fleshy head. It was lava-hot, and you knew nothing except that you needed more. 

Price collapsed on top of you, his heavy, furry body sweaty and panting, gasping for air himself. He seemed spent, but you weren’t done. 

You flipped him, planting him on his back, enjoying the shocked look on his face, his eyes wide and uncertain. He couldn’t speak; there wasn’t enough time. But, as you began to rock back and forth on his softening rod, he cried out with something between pain and bliss. 

“Oh, fuck, love… wait! I’m… oh, shite…” 

“I’m… so sorry, John. I can’t stop…” You ground your swollen pussy down to his base, fucking him raw and wild, feeling his come slipping out of you in foamy smears. 

He nodded, hiding his eyes behind his palm, struggling to get his breathing under control,

“It’s alright, Birdie. It’s alright. Take what you need.”

As you rode him, he fully softened in you, and you cried out, trying everything you could to bring him back. Then, you watched as he fumbled across the end table, reaching for the blue pills the medic had left behind. He took one, and stared up at you,

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere.”

He grabbed your thighs, and with very little struggle, situated you across his face, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, forcing you to put your weight on his jaw. He began to eat you out, licking long circles around your messy hole at first, and then he thrust his long tongue inside of you, rubbing his nose deep within your wet folds. 

You screamed for him then, trying to battle your insecurities and failing. It was overwhelming. The pleasure just built and built inside of you, mounting up and then… nothing. It remained there at its peak, a tightened coil, ready to bust. 

“John! John, I can’t… Help me, please.”

With all of his strength, he lifted you off of him, shoving you on all fours, situating himself behind you. 

All of his movements were rabid and unwieldy. He was struggling, trying to overcome his soporific pleasure to accommodate you. Hungry for you even though he’d recently been sated. 

Your chaos quieted for a moment when you felt his fingers prying your lips apart between your legs, slipping into you like a cork, sinking down to his knuckles into a perfect fit. 

“Oh, Sparrow. So fuckin’ soft. So sweet.” 

As he praised you, he ate you, pulling out more and more of your stickiness onto his hand, lapping you up with his tongue. You were coming unwound, and it felt amazing. It was as if he was pulling pulsing orgasms from your body on a long silk ribbon, one after the other, soft and slick, neverending. 

Then, finally, you felt his head tapping its way into your wet hole once more. Fucking you from behind seemed to be your commander’s preference. It was either that or he had become beyond overstimulated. His noises were a cross between whimpers and growls. He kissed his way up your back, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck and shoulder, grunting like an animal as he buried himself into you. 

“You’re so big. I feel so full,” you whispered to him, glancing over your shoulder as he knelt over you like a feral hound, bucking into you shamelessly. 

“Feels good, little bird? ‘M not hurtin’ you, am I?” 

“No, John. You’re perfect,” you found his jaw as he kissed your neck, nuzzling his face with your own, rubbing against him like a cat. 

“Gonna come for me, love? Squeezin’ the fuck out of my cock.”

“I can’t help it,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks. You were so overwhelmed, your body was processing every sensation, fraying your nerves. He wiped your temple with his hand, 

“I know, Sparrow. I know. Let it out, love. C’mon. I can take it.”

“Nghah!” You screamed, trying to relax into the blinding pleasure, feeling your legs start to tremble from it.

“Mmm,” Price groaned deeply, sitting back on his knees as he felt you spill over the edge. Your sticky come coated his cock and the dense hair at his base, matting the dark fur, “Tha’s it, baby. Fuck, so wet.”

You sobbed through the orgasm as it wrecked your body. John gathered you up in his arms, taking the sheet with him, clutching you to his chest messily, still humping himself into you as gently as he could, but unable to quell his own lurid desire. 

“Lay down, Birdie,” your captain whispered, pulling the sheet away and pushing you prone into his mattress, “Try to breathe for me. Tha’s it.”

You tried to do as he commanded. You wanted to be good for him, but your breath kept hitching in your throat. You needed more, and you didn’t know how to get it. You writhed below him, feeling his cock slipping in and out of you, the wetness from your body pooling beneath you. 

“John, I’m still so hot. Feels like I’m losing my mind,” you looked at him over your shoulder, and you had to admit he didn’t look much better. He was spent, fucking you on auto-pilot at this point, letting nature take its own path. He was nothing more than base instincts at this point, and you could tell he was having trouble keeping himself tied down. 

He wanted to come again, you could feel it in how rigid his cock had become, helped by the pills. Something inside of you wanted to force his come from him, to make him explode in you again, filling you up. So, you pushed your hips back, arching your spine to allow more of his cock inside of your pussy, teasing him with your swollen hole. 

“Oh, fuck. Sparrow… don’t…”

“Does it feel good, John?” You asked, not following his orders for once, “Do I… make you feel good?”

“Holy fuck,” he spat, his voice dark and animalistic, unable to tear his eyes from where your bodies were joined together.  

You twisted your hips back and forth, effectively jerking him off with your drooling sheath, listening to his deep whining as you tormented him, pushing him to the brink but not fucking him fast enough to toss him over. 

“Little bird… Please…” John whimpered, overstimulated and eager to come.

“Tell me,” you teased him, not recognizing your own voice, “Tell me how you like it.”

“I fuckin’ love it. Just like that, Birdie. So damn good. Keep movin’ your hips like that, pretty girl. Gonna make me come again.”

You could feel his eyes watching you fuck him. He used his hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, giving him a bird’s eye view of both of your holes. You could feel the cool air rush across them, exciting you and making you shiver from the sensation. 

“So damn pretty,” Price crooned, whispering almost to himself, petting your stretched skin with his thumbs, smearing your wetness all over you.

You felt him grab your hair, right at the nape of your neck, forcing your back to arch, pulling you up to him, 

“You want me to come in you, little bird? You want my fuckin’ come? Hm? Tell me!”

“Nghh… Yes,” you hissed. His grip was so restricting, and you felt the air try to escape your throat, “Come. In. Me.”

“Sparrow!” Price shouted, releasing your hair to hold you across your belly, wrapping your body in his arms, ramming himself into you as deeply as he could, letting his cock spill into you once again. 

You were full of him. John was everywhere. He was wet and dripping within you, and as he fell to the bed with you, his body covered yours fully, wrapping you beneath him. You shifted a bit, convincing him to roll onto his side, kissing his neck and face, whispering sweet nothings to him as he caught his breath. 

“So good, John… You are so good to me,” you let your lips sink into his warm, panting mouth, letting your lips slide together. 

“Mmm,” he sighed, “Still hard. The medic was right about those pills.”

“I’m so sorry,” you straddled him again, humping against his still-rigid shaft, “I still need you, John. Please?”

“Sure, little bird. Ah! Oh, fuck, I’m sensitive. Easy… Ngh!”

“I’ll go slow,” you leaned forward to kiss him, capturing his long moan in your mouth. 

Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door and then a slit of light as it creaked open. A skeletal gloved hand reached in with a stuffed bag and dropped it just inside the room before shutting it tightly again. 

Price removed you gently, watching you pout, and he explained,

“Laswell’s care package.”

“Come back, John,” you pulled his hand toward you as he opened the bag with the other.

He started laughing, letting you guide his cock back into you while he was standing at the edge of the bed. You watched as he pulled a couple of water bottles out of the bag and set them on the end table, still chuckling to himself. 

“Hey,” you pet your fingers through the hair on his belly as you writhed against him, “What’s funny?”

“Strawberries,” he smiled as he pulled a small box of the fruit from the bag, his eyes twinkling in the low light, “You want one, little bird?”

You nodded, but then felt the sudden emptiness of him removing his cock from you again. Then, with a devilish grin, you watched him dip the tip of the bright red fruit into your pussy, twirling it around in your juices, coating it with your thick stickiness, and then sucking it into his mouth, eating half of it and letting it drip down his chin. 

He brought it to your mouth, at the same time thrusting himself all the way inside of you, making you gasp,

“Open wide, love.”

[vxnuslogy]

— a reason. ft aventurine

— warnings: slight cursing and violence and spoilers for the new hsr quest

— author's note: this is very long and very much a giant word vomit. first work in hsr is aventurine, i fear favoritism is real.

‘everything happens for a reason.’

aventurine has never felt so sick and tired of that phrase. something about it makes his fists clench from beneath the table and stomach flip and twist uncomfortably from within.

if everything happens for a reason, then what was the reason behind his clan’s massacre? what was the reason for the stirring in his guts whenever he looked in the mirror? what was the reason behind all of his fortune now turned to misfortune?

aventurine hated not knowing the reason.

“and this pretty thing,” jade motioned towards you by her side. standing motionless, back straight and all. “is [name]. be sure to play nice, aventurine.”

what was the reason behind your new recruitment? better yet, why were you placed as his new assistant? the last time aventurine checked, he was doing perfectly fine. steadily climbing up his rank with his risky gambles and bargaining skills. he couldn't wrap his head around it so he just sighed and accepted it.

“thank you for always looking after me, jade.” his voice carried evident sarcasm but the woman only smiled and pushed you towards his direction. he had to physically stop himself from recoiling from the action and gave you a smile.

“it's a pleasure to meet you, [name].” he held his hand out for you to take. you were hesitating, aventurine noticed. but after a few seconds you slowly slid your hand into his and gave it a firm shake. “the pleasure is all mine, mr. aventurine.”

the blonde man held onto your hand for a moment longer before slipping it away and tucking it behind his back. he surveyed your form making you want to squirm under such a gaze, and he noticed.

“let's be good friends.”

—

working with aventurine was strange, not that you didn't expect it. you spent the past six months running around the IPC from one office to another carrying mountains of papers and constantly picking up calls from the communication device in your ear. other times, you'll be out and about trailing aventurine like a lost duckling when you need to accompany him to missions that require him to be physically present.

honestly, working for the stoneheart will eventually give you an early death from a heart attack. not only is his risky gambling habits very concerning, his way of speaking wasn't exactly everyone's cup of tea. more often than not you’re needed to play as a peacemaker, the middle ground of negotiations to prevent any physical fights from starting.

but it wasn't as bad as you'd assume. you clock in around 9 in the morning and clock out at 5 in the afternoon. sometimes if certain tasks require you for overtime, you'll clock out at around 8 or 9 at night max. all the work aventurine assigns to you aren't all that difficult to handle as well. just simple reports that need to be proofread so he won't have to read over them multiple times, scheduling interviews, picking up calls and informing him of his new missions, and if the situation calls for it, you play as a spy to gather information.

overall aventurine was a good boss.

today was like any other tuesday morning. you clock in just before 9, get your coffee and another cup for your boss, pick up the last reports from the strategic investment department, and then make your way into aventurine’s office to brief him on his schedule.

his office was on the fancier ends, no surprise there as he was one of the ten stonehearts. your shoes clicking when they met the marbled floors, your eyes skimmed through the reports, trying to guess which proposal will be approved or disapproved. when you reached a familiar door, you fixed your hair and readjusted the insignia pinned to your vest. an aventurine stone, just like your boss.

you knock thrice -short, short and long- before you hear a muffled voice tell you to come in.

“good morning, mr. aventurine.” you greet with a slight bow as normal. “as punctual as ever, [name].” raising your head you nod towards topaz’s direction in acknowledgment before making your way to his desk. “here are all the reports from the last mission. i’ve read through all of them and made sure everything is in order.” placing the papers on the table, he dropped the ones in his current hand before taking the new ones, all the while, you place down his coffee which he gladly took.

“you aren't overworking them, have you, aventurine?” topaz inquired, crossing both her arms over her chest. “what kind of boss do you take me for friend? a bad one? i can assure you my assistant is in good hands.” the blonde man chipped in, his fingers flipping from one page to another as you busied yourself trying to organize the scattered reports on his table. feeling topaz's gaze, you give her a slight smile and nod, confirming that aventurine is in fact, was a good boss.

she just sighed and shook her head. motioning for you to come over, you look to aventurine who gave you a nod in turn. you walked towards topaz -feeling the searing stare of aventurine burn through the back of your head- as she took out a flash drive and handed it to you.

“this is the recording of the last meeting in regards to the mission you're tasked with. since you were still in pier port, we started without you.”

“how cruel of you, to start such an important meeting without even waiting for me.”

ah yes, the pier port incident. you smiled wearily as your shoulder slumped when you remembered what happened. you shake your head in amusement of the memory.

“thank you topaz,” you break the silence, like you always do. “i’ll be sure to look over it today.” she smiled at you in appreciation before turning her back on you and waving goodbye.

“well, that was all i came for. catch you two later.”

once the door clicked shut and the sounds of footsteps getting fainter and fainter, you took it as a sign to turn back to your boss who was already looking at you.

“is something the matter, sir?” you ask. he took off his glasses with a hum and turned his attention back to the papers he was reading. “be sure to give me a summarized report of the meeting before you go home.” you nod and take a seat on the couch in his office and boot up the laptop on the coffee table. you've always wondered when it suddenly appeared in his office, you were 98% sure it wasn't there when you first started working but aventurine always said that's it been there the entire time.

you shake the thought out of your mind and shift into work mode. hours seem to pass by in the blink of an eye before you heard aventurine call out to you. “i’m sorry mr. aventurine, i'm afraid i didn't hear you.” you heard him sigh and repeat his question. “i said, why did you join the IPC? actually, no, that's not what i want to know.”

when you looked up from the laptop in front of you, your boss had taken a seat across from you. you felt your heart thumping in nervousness.

“what exactly did you do to pique jade’s interest?”

frozen. you felt frozen on your spot. fingers stopping midway from pressing onto the keys. those beautiful eyes you've slowly grown accustomed to seeing unfiltered from his glasses, they make your heart and pulse beat in an unfamiliar rhythm.

“i come from a well-off family.” you start, suddenly feeling conscious of your background. “my parents have worked closely with the stonehearts, i suppose miss jade wanted to continue the diplomatic relationship between my family and the IPC.”

“is that the reason why you're here now?”

you simply nod even though you weren't so sure if that really was the reason.

“let me ask you another question.”

letting out a startled noise when the laptop in your lap suddenly close with a gloved hand sitting on top of it, you stare at aventurine's purple eyes that had rings of teal, something so uniquely him that you couldn't help but get lost in them. he took the laptop from your grasp and set it on the coffee table as he leaned both his arms on his legs.

“do you like working under me?”

the question caught you off guard and it showed with how the corner of aventurine’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. hiding behind a closed fist and clearing your throat, you pray that your voice wouldn't waver as you answer.

“i do.” you peaked towards his directions and he didn't seem satisfied with your answer so you list out all the reasons why you like working with him. “despite your… questionable habits, i’ve come to grow used to them as time goes on.” a fond smile made its way to your lips when you dug around your mind trying to find your memories that had aventurine in them, only to realize that he was in all of them.

“i’ve come to enjoy all your little shenanigans in missions.”

“i'll have you know, calling your boss’ plans “shenanigans” could lead to your bonus being cut by a few percent.” he huffed like a child as he decided to just sit back and cross his arms over his chest and raise his chin at you. you chuckle at the action and continue.

“ever since i was a child, i have always wanted to travel the cosmos. but since i’m the only child to my mother and father, my childhood, teenage years, and now adulthood is centered around business and trade. going out on missions with you to different planets, they heal that little part of me that wished to travel.”

“but sometimes, i truly believe that you want me to die from a heart attack.” you hear him snicker from under his breath as he fixes the watch on his wrist. “i know that as a gambler taking risks is just a part of it but aeons, do they scare me to death sometimes.”

“if i knew you cared about me so much, maybe i would tone it down a bit!” there was a playful undertone to his voice as he talked to you. you let out a laugh and shake your head. “no offense sir, but i sincerely doubt that.”

“you wouldn't be the boss i've grown accustomed to if you didn't do your risky gambles.”

something flickered in aventurine's eyes, you were sure of it. but before you could find out what it was he suddenly stood up, putting on his usual glasses and giving you a closed eyed smile.

“well, that was all what i wanted to ask you.” you wanted to ask something in return, but you never had the chance to even get a word out when he was already halfway out the door. “be sure to finish that summary before the day ends. leave it at my desk as usual.”

and just like that, the office door clicked shut.

—

“if i told you the reason, that'd be the same as revealing a trade secret.”

aventurine remembered jade's word. how could he not when they repeated in his mind like a broken record.

after he left his office, it felt like he suddenly went back in time. it just had been roughly a month after you were given the position as his assistant and aventurine wasted no moment at the end of that friday afternoon to dash in jade's office and ask her the question: why were you his assistant.

aventurine scoffed at jade's response while she only smiled. clicking his tongue in annoyance as the woman led him in circles when he kept asking. what was the reason? was it that hard to answer?

the next few days weren't necessarily the best. he was like a walking ticking time bomb, ready to blow up at any second. everyone in the IPC kept their distance from him -not like they didn't keep their distance to begin with, some started whispering among the hallways about his potential termination after a very big gamble he almost, almost, lost. what ticked him off the most, was you.

he felt so frustrated at you because why were you so damn perceptive. those past few days, the papers that were messily and hastily thrown on the giant table in his office were suddenly organized into neat piles, all held together with different colored paperclips and a sticky note of when each pile was due to be submitted. how every morning you wouldn't fail to knock thrice at his door -short, short and long- at exactly 3 minutes before 9 in the morning with two cups of coffee in your hands. or the times where you would take one good look at him and start lighting up the candles in his office that you started buying for him because you noticed he'd be slightly less stressed when the room didn't smell like fear and insecurity.

what he hated the most was even after his little temper tantrum the past few days began to subdue, you still continued your almost doting actions towards him.

when did he start anticipating your methodical knocks 3 minutes before 9? when did he suddenly grow disappointed whenever someone knocked on his door and it wasn't you? topaz had suddenly grown confused when he suddenly came into the meeting room with a cup of coffee in his hand and when she asked about it he would simply say, “well, my darling assistant bought it for me!”. the multiple scented candles in his office that burned too quickly so at the end of every month he'd have you go out and buy some more.

when did he start using his left hand -the hand he left bare from rings, the same hand that shook in fear of losing- to guide the small of your back away from the crowd whenever you would accompany him to missions?

when did he start taking off the glasses that hid the eyes he wanted to sell to someone else?

it was so confusing yet so simple at the same time. aventurine had grown fond of his little assistant. he has grown fond of you. and that was all there is to it. after all, why would he go out of his way to get that customized brooch that you wear every single day when you come to work if he hadn't. how his chest would swell with pride whenever you spoke with higher positioned officers in the IPC and how they would avert their gaze because of the pin on your vest.

and he knows that you know of his sudden change in demeanor. you just never say a word for his sake. how he went from being a distant and acquainted boss to a friend. an actual friend. and that was supposed to be it. he did say in your first meeting that you should be good friends, but how was he supposed to keep his words after the little stunt you pulled at pier port?

it was a simple mission, negotiate and get the upper hand, nothing more and certainly nothing less. like any other mission, he was accompanied by you and some other people under the IPC. everything was going smoothly until one of them just had to open their mouth and talk shit about his already dreadful past just because he had forgotten to put on his glasses. he truly has grown a bit too comfortable with you around, and he didn't like it.

“what's a sigonian scum like you doing in the IPC? why don't you crawl back into the hole you came from?”

he just sighed. shaking his head, hiding his left hand behind his back, shielding it away from everyone's gaze as it shook with anger, disgust, and the tantalizing question of why.

why did he have to go through this?

and then you did something out of the ordinary.

the sweet assistant of aventurine suddenly pulled out the gun situated on your hip and pointed it directly to the man’s forehead, a deathly glimmer shining in your eyes as your index threateningly ghosted over the trigger.

“if you do not take back what you said just now, i won't hesitate to put a bullet or two in that empty skull of yours.”

then you started walking, and he started backing up. you didn't stop until the man was standing on the edge of the port, one simple push and he'd be drowned in the vast icy oceans. that is, if he wasn't already drowning in the fury of your eyes.

aventurine felt his body move in instinct. his left hand holding your wrist and slowly putting it down at your side. he gave a half assed apology about your behavior and ushered you to your original destination. this time, he kept his hand on your back, specifically near the gun on your hips to make sure you didn't point it at someone else.

“do they always speak to you that way?” you ask barely above whisper. eyes strained one the road you were walking one while his bore into your very being. “i’ve grown used to it. be sure to not point that gun of yours to any potential partners, m’kay?” to prove his point, he tapped the gun on your hips with his finger and you just sighed. a simple yes stumbling past your lips before being enveloped by silence.

aventurine was sure. he was very, very, sure that was the last nail in the coffin, and the answer to the question he's been asking.

the entire day, you stuck by his side. glued to the fucking hip and no one dared to utter a single word about him. the meeting went smoothly and when everyone was preparing to go home, he called you over and said:

“that stunt you pulled earlier, stays between us, alright, friend?”

and you simply nod in understanding.

you carry your bags onto the ship to take you back home only to be taken aback when aventurine comes to steal it away from your hands. “take it as thanks for earlier.” he remembered that look of shock before it turned into something else -what it was he didn't know because you turned away before he could even fathom what of it made his stomach do flips.

even when he came to drop off your things at your personal room, he found himself lingering by the door. watching you unpack your things as he stood idly. you would eventually turn to him and ask if he needed anything more, and out of curiosity he asked: “why did you point your gun at that man?” he will never forget the look of puzzlement on your face when he asked.

“because he said something unpleasant to you. as your assistant, i can't allow others to simply trample on your name.”

he spent the night staring up at the ceiling while laying on his bed. your words mingling in with jade's in his mind, trying to fit the two like puzzle pieces to ease the racing of his heart and uneasiness of his mind. he didn't like assuming things. a conjecture such as this would cost him too much, but tonight he indulged himself in the thought.

picking up his phone and messaging jade, he laid his forearm over his eyes and sighed.

“this room smells horrible…” he muttered. the strong scent of chlorine made his mind spin. making him miss the scented candles you had slowly but surely placed inside his office. he'd grown so fond of them that he'd bought some of his own to place around his home. “ah… i think i'm screwed.”

—

it has been approximately 3 system hours since you arrived in penacony, and roughly a few system hours before aventurine's eventual demise.

topaz had just finished speaking with the trailblazer and their companions. when they had left you stood next to her and stared at the giant prison turned hotel.

“you… don't seem too worried.” topaz said, you felt her gaze but you didn't turn to look at her, instead you just gazed into nothing. “it would be a lie if i said i wasn't worried.” you were most definitely worried, terrified even. no matter how many times aventurine does his high risk gambles, you will never get used to it, not when it causes ghostly hands to squeeze at your heart at the sheer thought of him losing. the thought of losing him.

“but i trust miss jade's judgment. i trust aventurine.”

roughly a day before his departure to penacony, curiosity got the best of you and you stuck around the meeting room in secret when aventurine stayed behind.

“what can i do for you, aventurine?” jade's voice slightly echoed in the empty room. your hands slightly shook in fear of being caught, but you were just so curious about what has been going on with your boss that you couldn't fight the urge to eavesdrop a bit. “oh nothing much. i take it you received my message?” you assumed the woman nodded because aventurine continued. “i must admit, your little plan worked. but is it really necessary?”

jade stood up from her seat, her heels clicked on the marble floor and aventurine followed her until they were by the door.

“well, it's better to stay safe than sorry. and besides, this doesn't count as a complaint, right?”

you heard him chuckle. somehow, even though you hid behind a pillar you felt his stare bore into your being. you could almost imagine those purple eyes that had rings of teal in them that made you weak in the knees.

“no, not necessarily. i could never consider it as a complaint.” he took a moment before asking another question. “but i want to hear it from you, friend. why did you assign [name] as my assistant?”

“it's rather simple really,” jade replied. “you need a reason to leave penacony alive, no? i simply made it easier for you.”

you? the reason for aventurine's will to live? it seemed rather silly. how you, a simple assistant, be so much of importance to someone like aventurine, but with how topaz came to hold the hand that gripped the brooch he had given you, you thought otherwise.

this half a year you've been working with him, you like to think that you've gotten to know him very well.

how when you stood beside him as he sat himself in another gamble, he would always lay his left hand on his lap, fingers curled into fists so tight you were afraid his palms were bleeding.

how he always hid his “weaker” hand behind his back in dire situations to hide his fear.

or when he would always take off his glasses in his office whenever you were there. and that laptop you were 98% sure wasn't there when you started working? aventurine apparently got it specifically for you so you could work in his office.

but what you were most sure of was:

“aventurine doesn't make deals he knows he won't benefit from. he'll win, he always does. he'll come back, i know it.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[qqueenofhades]

I really really REALLY need to see more people makimg the connection between trump and his russian handlers tbh.......like i know we've somehow gone through the looking glass of putin apologia but that piece abt the NYT you just posted, the bots, the interference: in the bag for trump? Yes. But i dont believe its due to his or even republican power or popularity or forcefulness.......this is a man with so much debt and kompromat thats only getting worse!! Not to sound kwazy BUT WE ARE BEING FULLY INFLITRATED and at the risk of conspiracizing i think the russians are ALSO behind the Times's demise along with so many other information centers etc. Like i KNOW these leftists love him but like. Wouldnt they care a LITTLE abt being manipulated like this???

Trump is 100% an active, willing, and eager Russian agent. That's not even paranoid conspiracy theory, that's just the only reasonable interpretation of the facts:

NOT TO MENTION that in the next two years after the Helsinki conference where Trump kowtowed to Putin in every way, the CIA admitted to losing huge and unusually high numbers of classified informants around the world (not CIA agents, but people secretly working for the American government in often-hostile countries):

Once again, this all happened when Trump was in office, when he was actively handing over CIA intel to the Kremlin against the wishes of the entire national security establishment, and which other experts have suggested was directly as a result of Trump handing over the identities of American informants to Russia, including those stationed in Russia itself:

Now, I could go on, but you get the point. Not to mention that Trump just lost a major UK-based lawsuit against Christopher Steele, the former MI6 agent who was the first to provide documents linking Trump to Russia in the controversial "Steele dossier":

And now: Trump is deeply in hock for hundreds of millions in legal fees and punitive judgments that are only increasing by the day, he somehow just came up with $90 million to appeal the judgment against E. Jean Carroll (nobody knows where he got this money either), and Russian state TV spends all their time openly salivating for Trump's return to the presidency (so he can hand over Ukraine and the rest of NATO and, as he literally said, "let Russia do whatever the hell they want.") I know we're largely numb to all the awful treasonous shit that Trump does, but like. This isn't a conspiracy theory, this is just what's going on in plain sight, and while the Online Leftists have recently become so stupid that I honestly can't tell if it's just terminal brainworms or active Russian psyops, it's strongly indicated that it is in fact a mix of both:

So, like. Just some food for thought.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Reverse engineers bust sleazy gig work platform

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/23/hack-the-class-war/#robo-boss

A COMPUTER CAN NEVER BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE

THEREFORE A COMPUTER MUST NEVER MAKE A MANAGEMENT DECISION

Supposedly, these lines were included in a 1979 internal presentation at IBM; screenshots of them routinely go viral:

https://twitter.com/SwiftOnSecurity/status/1385565737167724545?lang=en

The reason for their newfound popularity is obvious: the rise and rise of algorithmic management tools, in which your boss is an app. That IBM slide is right: turning an app into your boss allows your actual boss to create an "accountability sink" in which there is no obvious way to blame a human or even a company for your maltreatment:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

App-based management-by-bossware treats the bug identified by the unknown author of that IBM slide into a feature. When an app is your boss, it can force you to scab:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

Or it can steal your wages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But tech giveth and tech taketh away. Digital technology is infinitely flexible: the program that spies on you can be defeated by another program that defeats spying. Every time your algorithmic boss hacks you, you can hack your boss back:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/02/not-what-it-does/#who-it-does-it-to

Technologists and labor organizers need one another. Even the most precarious and abused workers can team up with hackers to disenshittify their robo-bosses:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#gojek

For every abuse technology brings to the workplace, there is a liberating use of technology that workers unleash by seizing the means of computation:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/13/solidarity-forever/#tech-unions

One tech-savvy group on the cutting edge of dismantling the Torment Nexus is Algorithms Exposed, a tiny, scrappy group of EU hacker/academics who recruit volunteers to reverse engineer and modify the algorithms that rule our lives as workers and as customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Algorithms Exposed have an admirable supply of seemingly boundless energy. Every time I check in with them, I learn that they've spun out yet another special-purpose subgroup. Today, I learned about Reversing Works, a hacking team that reverse engineers gig work apps, revealing corporate wrongdoing that leads to multimillion euro fines for especially sleazy companies.

One such company is Foodinho, an Italian subsidiary of the Spanish food delivery company Glovo. Foodinho/Glovo has been in the crosshairs of Italian labor enforcers since before the pandemic, racking up millions in fines – first for failing to file the proper privacy paperwork disclosing the nature of the data processing in the app that Foodinho riders use to book jobs. Then, after the Italian data commission investigated Foodinho, the company attracted new, much larger fines for its out-of-control surveillance conduct.

As all of this was underway, Reversing Works was conducting its own research into Glovo/Foodinho's app, running it on a simulated Android handset inside a PC so they could peer into app's data collection and processing. They discovered a nightmarish world of pervasive, illegal worker surveillance, and published their findings a year ago in November, 2023:

https://www.etui.org/sites/default/files/2023-10/Exercising%20workers%20rights%20in%20algorithmic%20management%20systems_Lessons%20learned%20from%20the%20Glovo-Foodinho%20digital%20labour%20platform%20case_2023.pdf

That report reveals all kinds of extremely illegal behavior. Glovo/Foodinho makes its riders' data accessible across national borders, so Glovo managers outside of Italy can access fine-grained surveillance information and sensitive personal information – a major data protection no-no.

Worse, Glovo's app embeds trackers from a huge number of other tech platforms (for chat, analytics, and more), making it impossible for the company to account for all the ways that its riders' data is collected – again, a requirement under Italian and EU data protection law.

All this data collection continues even when riders have clocked out for the day – its as though your boss followed you home after quitting time and spied on you.

The research also revealed evidence of a secretive worker scoring system that ranked workers based on undisclosed criteria and reserved the best jobs for workers with high scores. This kind of thing is pervasive in algorithmic management, from gig work to Youtube and Tiktok, where performers' videos are routinely suppressed because they crossed some undisclosed line. When an app is your boss, your every paycheck is docked because you violated a policy you're not allowed to know about, because if you knew why your boss was giving you shitty jobs, or refusing to show the video you spent thousands of dollars making to the subscribers who asked to see it, then maybe you could figure out how to keep your boss from detecting your rulebreaking next time.

All this data-collection and processing is bad enough, but what makes it all a thousand times worse is Glovo's data retention policy – they're storing this data on their workers for four years after the worker leaves their employ. That means that mountains of sensitive, potentially ruinous data on gig workers is just lying around, waiting to be stolen by the next hacker that breaks into the company's servers.

Reversing Works's report made quite a splash. A year after its publication, the Italian data protection agency fined Glovo another 5 million euros and ordered them to cut this shit out:

https://reversing.works/posts/2024/11/press-release-reversing.works-investigation-exposes-glovos-data-privacy-violations-marking-a-milestone-for-worker-rights-and-technology-accountability/

As the report points out, Italy is extremely well set up to defend workers' rights from this kind of bossware abuse. Not only do Italian enforcers have all the privacy tools created by the GDPR, the EU's flagship privacy regulation – they also have the benefit of Italy's 1970 Workers' Statute. The Workers Statute is a visionary piece of legislation that protects workers from automated management practices. Combined with later privacy regulation, it gave Italy's data regulators sweeping powers to defend Italian workers, like Glovo's riders.

Italy is also a leader in recognizing gig workers as de facto employees, despite the tissue-thin pretense that adding an app to your employment means that you aren't entitled to any labor protections. In the case of Glovo, the fine-grained surveillance and reputation scoring were deemed proof that Glovo was employer to its riders.

Reversing Works' report is a fascinating read, especially the sections detailing how the researchers recruited a Glovo rider who allowed them to log in to Glovo's platform on their account.

As Reversing Works points out, this bottom-up approach – where apps are subjected to technical analysis – has real potential for labor organizations seeking to protect workers. Their report established multiple grounds on which a union could seek to hold an abusive employer to account.

But this bottom-up approach also holds out the potential for developing direct-action tools that let workers flex their power, by modifying apps, or coordinating their actions to wring concessions out of their bosses.

After all, the whole reason for the gig economy is to slash wage-bills, by transforming workers into contractors, and by eliminating managers in favor of algorithms. This leaves companies extremely vulnerable, because when workers come together to exercise power, their employer can't rely on middle managers to pressure workers, deal with irate customers, or step in to fill the gap themselves:

https://projects.itforchange.net/state-of-big-tech/changing-dynamics-of-labor-and-capital/

Only by seizing the means of computation, workers and organized labor can turn the tables on bossware – both by directly altering the conditions of their employment, and by producing the evidence and tools that regulators can use to force employers to make those alterations permanent.

Image: EFF (modified) https://www.eff.org/files/issues/eu-flag-11_1.png

CC BY 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/

[ratgrinders]

Never Stop Blowing Up Favorite Movies

Wendell Morris

Weird Science - 1985 science fantasy/teen comedy. "Nerdy social outcast students Gary Wallace and Wyatt Donnelly are humiliated by senior jocks Ian and Max for swooning over their cheerleader girlfriends. Humiliated and disappointed at their direction in life and wanting more, Gary is inspired by the 1931 classic Frankenstein to create a virtual woman using Wyatt's computer, infusing her with everything they can conceive to make the perfect dream woman."

The Fast and the Furious - "A media franchise centered on a series of action films that are largely concerned with street racing, heists, spies, and family."

Real Genius - 1985 science fiction/comedy. "Chris Knight, a genius in his senior year, is paired with a new student on campus, Mitch Taylor, to work on a chemical laser, only to learn it will be used for dangerous purposes."

Liv Skyler

Empire Records - 1995 coming-of-age comedy/drama. "The film follows a group of record store employees over the course of one exceptional day. The employees try to stop the store from being sold to a large chain, and learn about each other along the way."

Scarface - 1983 crime drama, and a remake of the 1932 film of the same name. "It tells the story of Cuban refugee Tony Montana, who arrives penniless in Miami during the Mariel boatlift and becomes a powerful drug lord." Additionally, "Less than two months before the film's release, Scarface was given an X rating by the MPAA for "excessive and cumulative violence and for language".

Clueless - 1995 coming-of-age teen comedy. "Considered to be one of the best teen films of all time...The plot centers on a beautiful, popular, and rich high school student who befriends a new student and decides to give her a makeover while playing matchmaker for her teachers and examining her own existence".

Usha Rao

The Horse in Motion - Published in 1878, a sequential series of 6 cabinet cards depicting the movement of a horse. Regarded as "the world's first bit of cinema", and the first film ever created.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - 1931 horror film. "An adaptation of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the 1886 Robert Louis Stevenson tale of a man who takes a potion which turns him from a mild-mannered man of science into a homicidal maniac."

102 Not Out - 2018 Indian Hindi-language comedy drama. "Dattatraya Vakharia is a lively 102-year-old who lives his life to the maximum and takes everything in a jovial way for his heart is that of a 26-year-old youngster regardless of his age. His 75-year-old son, Babulal Vakharia, is his exact opposite for he believes that he is now too old and fragile to enjoy life and lives a routine life."

Russell Feeld

American Gigolo - 1980 neo-noir crime drama. "A high-priced male escort who becomes romantically involved with a prominent politician's wife, while simultaneously becoming the prime suspect in a murder case."

La Femme Nikita - 1990 French-language action thriller. "[Nikita] is a criminal who is convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment for murdering policemen during an armed pharmacy robbery. Her government handlers fake her death and recruit her as a professional assassin. After intense training, she starts a career as a killer, where she struggles to balance her work with her personal life."

Waking Life - 2001 animated film. "The film explores a wide range of philosophical issues, including the nature of reality, dreams and lucid dreams, consciousness, the meaning of life, free will, and existentialism. It is centered on a young man who wanders through a succession of dreamlike realities wherein he encounters a series of people who engage in insightful philosophical discussions."

Andy 'Dang' Litefoot

Suburbia - 1983 coming-of-age drama thriller. Follows "a group of suburban youths who run away from home and adopt a punk lifestyle by squatting in abandoned suburban tract homes."

Goldfinger - 1964 spy film and the third installment in the James Bond series. "The film's plot has Bond investigating gold smuggling by gold magnate Auric Goldfinger and eventually uncovering Goldfinger's plans to contaminate the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox."

Fire in the Sky - 1993 biographical science fiction mystery. "It is based on Travis Walton's book The Walton Experience, which describes an extraterrestrial abduction"

Paula Donvalson

Muriel's Wedding - 1994 Australian comedy-drama. "The film focuses on the socially awkward Muriel whose ambition is to have a glamorous wedding and improve her personal life by moving from her dead-end hometown, the fictional Porpoise Spit, to Sydney."

The Long Kiss Goodnight - 1996 action thriller. "The story follows an amnesiac schoolteacher who sets out to recover her identity with the help of a private detective when they discover a dark conspiracy."

Under the Tuscan Sun - 2003 romantic comedy-drama. "Based on Frances Mayes' 1996 memoir of the same name, the film is about a recently divorced writer who buys a villa in Tuscany on a whim, hoping it will lead to a change in her life."

[kairithemang0]

Sorry I can’t sleep here’s a post on Curt and his self confidence that’s so low it’s hilarious

Curt’s opinion of himself is heavily dictated on what other people feel about him. During all of a1p1 before the call with Cynthia, he’s collected and cool and showing his skills as a great spy. Because he is a great spy. He’s one of the best. Then, the second we get to the call with Cynthia, his demeanor changes. She says that Owen’s the only one who knows what they’re doing and then tries to recruit him. This is where Curt changes for the worst in this scene, instantly starting to drink.

He’s sorta lost his flow a bit, he’s trying to regain that cool spy feeling he had when he was boring tortured, something he feels like he lost a bit, when he hasn’t at all. His moves get riskier for the sake of doing something that’ll look cool. The timer seems like a good example of this. He pushes it lower than they intended because secretly doing that will make things more interesting, giving him a chance to barely make it out and look badass. It, of course, doesn’t work out like that.

Curt’s incredibly jealous of Owen, of how quick of a thinker he is. To Curt, Owen always knows what to do. And I think sometimes Curt worries Owen thinks less of him because of the comments Curt gets from Cynthia that Owen never really comments on. Because that comment she gives to Curt about not knowing what he’s doing certainly wasn’t a one time thing. I wouldn’t be surprised that at first, hearing stuff like that made Curt actually work harder, got him to really focus when he needed to, and it stopped working after a while. That’s just my thought though.

On the surface, Curt seems incredibly over confident, making dangerous plays to prove himself, to Cynthia, to Owen, and probably himself as well.

I think when Owen and Curt first met, Curt already had a reputation for goofing off and getting into trouble. Owen heard this and then micromanaging their entire first mission, but really saw how good of a spy Curt was when he let him do what he needed to do, get into a rhythm and focus, do his own thing without comments about not being good enough. Because he really is a great spy, and Owen tells him this after this mission. Curt lets out a cocky “I know” but really, he’s so happy to hear that.

[tarbuchyloewenthal]

Avowed Backgrounds

spoilers below if you wish to go in completely blind

Arcane Scholar:

After graduating with honors from Bragganhyl Academy, you published a treatise on soul lineages that threatened the legitimacy and drew the ire of a local lord. When he had you arrested, the Emperor intervened and recruited you into the archives of the imperial court. Your mind is a bottomless well of occult knowledge, legal precedent, historical observation, and poetry. You have forgotten more than most people ever learn.

Court Augur:

When your village's crops failed, your strange insights and unsettling manner earned your neighbors' suspicions. You foresaw the torches and pitchforks and fled to Highcrown, where the Emperor recognized your talents and elevated you from back alley fortune teller to his personal mystic. You have learned to wield power from the shadows; all it takes is a dash of influence and a pinch of deception.

Noble Scion:

You were born to a noble house of great influence, middling wealth, and questionable morals. When scandals and succession disputes saw your family cast down, you threw yourself on the Emperor's mercy, and he shielded you. Canny yet refined, you have become a formidable force at court and an invaluable ally to the Emperor.

Vanguard Scout:

Born to humble beginnings and driven to desperation by famine, your life was destined to end on the executioner's block until the Emperor spared you. More at ease in wilderness than at court, your cleverness and observant nature has made you one of the Emperor's most trusted operatives. Whether tracking prey or spying on enemies, your skills are put to work both inside and outside of the throne room.

War Hero:

You distinguished yourself on the field of battle fighting a violent Skaenite uprising. The Emperor honored you with a place among the elite Tall Grass Spearmen. Some of your scars are more obvious than others, but you wear them with pride. The Emperor values your loyalty, your grit, and your martial prowess.

info courtesy of this preview from WesNemo.

[yndrgrl]

yandere! dabi x fem reader?

you're a fool to think that you could trick japan's no. 1 mafia boss, yandere! dabi , & get away with it

long ass fic. crime lord x spy. quirkless! au. heavily tatted! dabi lmaooo. extra dark romance. fem! reader. ooc! dabi. picture "diet mountain dew" playing, thanks. manz is OBSESSED obsessed.

warnings: nsfw, depictions of extreme/hardcore sex, sex slavery, obsessive behavior, making "movies," mentions of heavy stalking & panty stealing, sex in front of his men, sadism, reader passes out, light knifeplay,

a/n: uhhh is this too much (i hope not cuz i have a couple more hardcore ones cooking) 😭 also look, i'm finally doing the requests that are long overdue... my fault, g.

-

"boss, she's here," one of dabi's goons said after he knocked on the large, mahogany door. there was shuffling, laughter, then a muffled "send her in," that followed.

"you heard the man," the other shrugged, opening the door for you. after you, they followed into the room.

your heart was pounding out of your chest & there was a violent ringing in your ear. your breathes were shallow & shaken, yet you had to maintain a calm composure because, in the eyes of japan's most notorious criminal mastermind, you were merely a recruiter for his mob. you're playing the part as a low-life thug/seductress who's in desperate need of money.

of course, that's not the case. you had a good head on your shoulders. you were working for japan's government, a special operation unit ran by a sergeant dubbed "endeavor." your mission is to gather information, find out their next big drug trade, & bust it while keeping your head down. & honestly, it's been going well. you were prepared to fight off dabi's goons left & right because, well... you're a woman, & they are horny, egotistical assholes.

however, none of them approached you. all of them looked scared of you, actually. you felt like a badass, but it was also compromising your mission. how in god's name are you supposed to collect intel of no one will talk with you?

"(y/n), baby, please have a seat," said dabi, snapping you out of your thoughts. you didn't know if you should smile or stay stoic, but your nerves got the better of you & your lips curled upwards.

"yes, sir," you said back. you allowed yourself to notice him, his features. he wore a suit, presumably to look professional even though it just made him look intimidating. with his jet black hair, bags under his piercing blue eyes, & pale skin littered with ink, he had an aura around him, & there's no wonder why or how he's gotten so powerful. his tattoos that were visible to you were mainly on his face & on his hands; there was a bold line stretching ear to ear, dipping in the crevasse of his mouth. it made him look like he had a smile. under the bold line were more intricate tattoos-- flowers, thorns, knives, the works.

"please, call me whatever your heart desires, princess," he purred, & the doors of his lavish office slammed shut. there was no reception in this part of his headquarters, you've already checked. you tried reasoning with your worries, telling yourself that there was no way you've been caught, you haven't even talked to anyone!

you replied, "i am anything but a princess, sir."

"sticking with sir?" he questioned, & you nodded, then he continued, "you can be anything you want to be, no?"

"in the perfect world, i guess i could," you said with furrowed brows. why were you in here exactly?

"no, no, no. that's not what i mean."

"my apologies, what did you mean?" you asked, fighting yourself not to fidget. fidgeting means that your nervous, being nervous means you've done something you're not supposed to, & you haven't dont anything wrong.

"i mean, you," he pointed at you, dragging the word longer than he had to, "you. can be anything you want." he was met with a calculating silence. the hairs on the back of your neck stood tall.

finally, you questioned, "why am i here, sir? i'm just a... you know, a concubine." that was your role.

"oh, are you now? what exactly are you doing for my company?" he leaned forward, his face resting in the palm of his hand. he looked bored, yet there was a twinkle in his eyes that said otherwise. it finally sunk in what kind of position you are in. there are two men guarding the only exit, there are three armed men standing behind dabi, & the infamous crime lord himself was sitting across from you, only a desk length away.

"i'm sending men your way so you can grow you um.. company," you told him, & that was the story you're sticking with.

dabi, with a smirk, muttered under his breath with a laugh, "you're fuckin' priceless, doll." with a clear voice this time, he asked, "has anyone touched you?"

what kind of question is that? "yes, sir." no, no one has, you were lying.

he still had a smirk on his face, his bright blue eyes drilling into yours. he fished something in his pocket, his eyes still glued on you. in your head, you kept screaming it was a gun or a knife, he was going to shoot you point blank, you're about to die-

"why do you look so scared, hun?" taunted dabi, finally throwing his hand out of his pocket, & you flinched. this is it, he's about to kill you with a... lighter? wait. he snapped his fingers with the hand that his face was resting on. one of his henchmen quickly handed him something. lighting it, he sneered, "it's just a cigarette~"

he inhaled deep, & blew out a puff a of grey smoke your direction. "you're so jumpy, babe."

"i'm just confused why i'm here is all," you swallowed, your eyes watering slightly because of the smoke.

"i'm considering you for a promotion," he said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

"a promotion?"

"yeah, you could call it that. instead of being some recruiter-prostitute, how does 'dabi's little housewife slut' sound instead? nice ring to it, huh?" he said, breathing in the tobacco & studying your expression.

"i-i'm sorry?" you coughed out, shocked.

"you can be anything, can't you? that's your whole job, am i wrong?" he questioned, eyes darkening. his playful demeanor was gone, & something more sinister glossed over his expression.

"i'm not sure what you mean-" you were cut off by his fist slamming down on his desk, the things on it vibrating & falling off.

"(y/n), do you think i'm stupid?"

"n-no, of course not, sir!" you tried to reason, maybe he was upset about something else.

"do you think i'm fuckin' stupid?" the man scowled, standing up to his feet. his henchmen gripped their weapons tighter, their backs just a bit more straighter. oh, he knew.

"i don't think you're stupid, sir. you're a smart man, i know that-"

"though your flattery gets me hard, it's unwanted right now, doll," dabi told you as he walked towards you while you were just sitting there, your hands on your lap. you picked the dirt from under your nails, the balls of your feet grinding the vintage rug underneath you. your eyes were trained on him in fear that, if you looked away, he'd pounce.

under your breath, you repeated unsure, "hard?" you didn't mean to say anything, it just slipped out. suddenly, as he was standing directly on your side, he gripped the arms of your chair & forced it to turn. he caged you between him & the chair, him bent down so his face was only inches away from you. you could smell the smoke on his breath, his expensive cologne, & faint iron smell-- whether it was blood or gunpowder, you didn't want to find out.

"you're so bold, spying on me~ i didn't think you'd actually accept the job, yet here you are, thinking you are just so clever, huh?" he laughed in your face, but his tone was still deep.

"y-you know?" you stuttered out, eyes wide. he was so close to you, he was a killer with no remorse, that's what they told you before you took this mission. you've heard it all before, & you've taken guys like him down, but they've never caught on to you. you had no plan, all you could do is hope that your crew knew your location.

"of course i know, (y/n)~ i know so much about you, & i must say, i'm such a fan," he started, looking at you up and down. you weren't cowering away from him, but you also weren't confident. you were going to try something, he knew it. "i'm honored to be your next big case. it's such a shame you won't be completing your mission though."

you swallowed thickly, & you gave him your best don't-fuck-with-me glare you could muster. "what now then? you caught me, you gonna kill me now?" you barked, hoping to intimidate him. instead, you were met with a bone chilling smile.

he chuckled, brushing his fingers through his wild hair, "oh no, sweetheart, i'm afraid you don't understand~" you started to search for something under your skirt-your gun- when he tightly gripped your wrist. "don't," he warned as he matched your glare.

the firm grasp you had on your gun loosened & it fell on the floor. he kicked it towards one of his men, who swiftly unloaded the mag & tossed it in the trash. "if it's information you want, you're not getting it outta me."

"wrong again, you get one more chance."

"would you stop fucking with me!?" you screamed at him, ready to oppose anything he wanted you to do. he gripped your chin, his fingers squishing your cheeks together, & your hands shot up & held his wrist as you tried to wriggle out.

"watch your mouth when you talk to me," he warned, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. "such a dirty mouth. if you were anyone else, i would've shot you instantly. consider yourself lucky."

"shtawp! le'me go!" you muttered through your puckered up lips, & surprisingly, he listened. once he let you go, you through yourself back into the chair to create as much distance as possible (it wasn't much). "wh-what are you going on about, dabi?"

"i thought i was, 'sir,' doll? what happened? we friends now?" he teased. the man gave you a fake pout & an eye roll.

"you wish. now answer me. what are you t-" he locked eyes with you once again, & you stumbled over your words, "t-talking about?"

he let out a dark chuckle, kneeling in front of you so his face was nearly resting on your lap. "princess, haven't you notice something weird has been happening ever since you took down shigiraki almost a year ago? don't you always feel like you're never alone? things appear in your car out of nowhere? your panties go missing from your apartment? haven't you ever wondered why you always feel so uneasy no matter where you are?"

your expression shifted from confused to terrified.

"you think you're all alone when you're scrubbing those perfect tits in the shower, huh? you really put on a show f'me when you masterbate. so fuckin' nasty, you know. i would love to know who's on your mind when you fingerfuck yourself," he said, licking his lips. his suit pants were tight enough that it was hard to miss the growing bulge. your eyes were teary out of embarrassment. "but i think i know who's on your mind when you do such dirty things."

"y-you don't know anything. m-my crew will be here soon o-once they realize i-i've been caught!" you fought, yet he had no care in the world. he through open your legs & tsked. you were told to wear a short skirt to "make it more believable," & now you're regretting everything. you tried to press your hands in between your thighs to block your clothed pussy out of his curious gaze.

"do you think so? cuz i think that they've completely forgetten about you 'cuz someone gave endeavor an anonymous tip on where my next drug deal will be held. i think that's more important than some captured spy, to be honest," he told you, "besides -men, hold her down- i have a feeling you actually really want this."

his goons, as they were told, held your wrists to the arms of the chair while another stood behind you, his gun looming just barely in the line of your vision. your legs were spread, & your arms were restrained. you thrashed as dabi's hot touch trailed up your calf to your inner thigh. your face was red hot in anger & flushed in shame. to fit your role, you wore a dark purple thong. your body betrayed you, a wet spot staining your panties. "st-stop! you-you're under arrest!"

"i-i-i am! oh n-no! wh-whatever will i do?!" he mocked, & his men laughed like he was some comedian. "please, (y/n), love, drop the fuckin' act. it's cute & all, but i'd rather you'd just stop pretending, i want you to enjoy this as much as i'm going to~" he faux pleaded, but he knew, either way, you were going to love it eventually. he heard your sighs of content whenever you read 'good guy x bad guy' spicy romances, he recorded you moaning his name when you first got assigned to this case.

"i-i really won't tell anyone, p-please let me go," you begged, watching him stand up & take off his blazer. he threw off his tie, unbuttoned his white dress shirt, revealing his toned, tatted body. every part of his torso, chest, & arms were inked with dark grey tattoos. on his left pec was your initials in some fancy, grand font-- except it was a fleshy pink. a healed scar.

"you like it? or are you scared? i can't really tell," dabi questioned, leaning close to you. his guard's hands were replaced by his. "(y/n), if you tell me to stop nicely, maybe i will. granted, i'll lock you up until you're ready, but i'd wait. so tell me, with that dirty mouth of yours, what do you want?"

"uhm... w-what are you talking about?" you tried to avoid his inquiries, it shamed you to say the least. if you were to say what you wanted -what you truly wanted- you'd betray your country. you didn't want to answer.

"now, or later?" he repeated, tapping your wrist. "i'm gonna need to hear you say somethin' or i'll just do whatever i want, & trust me; you won't be able to handle it."

you were silent, your eyes darted from his icy ones, to his cold lips, to his tattooed body, & back to his eyes. avoidant, maybe that's all you have to do. he'll get bored of someone quiet, no?

"(y/n)~ sweetheart~ you're making a bad choice by keeping your mouth shut, unless that's what you want. you want me to use you, hm?" he teased, biting his lip afterward. dabi knew that look you were giving him because it's the one he gives you all the time. pure, primal lust. intrigue. but mostly lust.

you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. your heart was beating out of your chest, your voice caught onto your throat. you pondered, just for a moment, & you let your impulse control the outcome; you stayed silent.

after shutting your mouth, dabi smirked devilishly. "you've made your choice, remember that. so don't get too mad at me, 'kay? i give you permission to enjoy this as much as you want, but you probably didn't need my permission," he snickered. the man didn't even let you answer before capturing your rosy lips with his.

his kisses were intense, rough, yet so, so needy for you. in between pants & kisses, he whispered things like, "i've held myself back f' you," &, "god, fuckin' finally." your wrists were once again restrained by his henchmen, while his hands wandered around your body. as one hand cup your precious face, the other groped your tits through your clothes. if one shifted around your neck, the other one would be gripping your hips, bruising you already.

his pierced tongue explored your mouth. saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. his tongue was down your throat as he choked you. your spine jolted when two, long fingers began to ghost up and down your pussy, pushing a little harder over your clothes clit. he hooked the front part of your thong & pulled up. you let out a muffled scream as your panties disappeared in between your pussy lips. they were drenched in your arousal, & now you started leaking onto your skirt & his chair.

he finally released you from his kiss, your lungs burning. you let in a few shallow breaths before dabi bit your neck. he still had your thong wrapped around his finger, & every so often, he would pull upwards, & a scream of pained pleasure would follow in suit. bite marks & hickeys covered your neck. "all mine~" he purred, licking your tender neck.

"let's get these fuckin' clothes off'a ya," snarled dabi through gritted teeth. it was like opening a present for him. he tore through your t-shirt with ease, not even bothering undressing you all the way so the fabric just hung off of your shoulders. he suddenly fished a knife out of his pocket & cut your bra off of your body. he glided the dull side between the valley of your breasts, down to your heaving stomach. he shoved your mini skirt up around your waist & he cut off your soaked thong.

"fuckin' hell, babe. i've been dreaming about this," he groaned, stabbing the blade into his wooden desk. dabi squeezed your plush thighs, his handprints bruised on your skin. what was strange was how his men acted while the two of you were intimate; they were stoic & unwavering, their hardened faces expressionless.

they were under dabi's complete control, & that's just how he is. he knows how to get people on his side, he knows when they're interested, that's why he's such an influential man. "you really thought you could trick me?" he barked, pulling his leather belt out of his pants' loops. he fastened the belt around your wrists. "poor, little (y/n)~ all hot & bothered in front of the enemy~" with your hands bound, your legs were put onto the arms of the chair. once again, you were restrained by his men. ashamed & -quite honestly- turned on, you were splayed out on the chair, legs spread & pussy throbbing.

he undid the button on his pants, & they fell to the floor. his boxers were soon to follow. you were gawking his member, you couldn't help it. it's the biggest, thickest, you've ever been with in your life.

a smug, toothy grin stretched on his face as he watched your reaction. "you look shocked, doll," he noticed. dabi stood right in front of you, the tip of his cock gently slapping your clit. the contact made you jolt every time. "you've never been with someone like me, huh? that's why you're so quiet?"

you nodded sheepishly while you stared up at him with your doe eyes. he coated himself in your arousal before lining himself up with your entrance. dabi, in such a hushed tone it almost sounded sweet, cooed, "it's a shame i'm gonna use that perfect body. i want you to remember you chose this."

"y-yes sir, i-i remember," you replied back. when he whispered in your ear, it sent electricity up your spine, & you'd subconsciously arch your back.

he placed a firm kiss on your jaw, & he praised, "that's my girl~" dabi slid past you folds, diving himself into your entrance. he let out a throaty groan as he through his head back. his adam's apple bobbed, his hair becoming even more disheveled. dabi wasn't a man known for his slow, savory approach; his gentle demeanor was short-lived. he forced his cock into your dripping hole balls-deep. you let out a breathy scream, eyes widen for a second.

dabi towered over you, muscles flexed with every thrust. he pounded you into the chair that, with every thrust, you felt the chair legs wobble underneath you. he shooed his guards away from you because, in all honesty, you were not getting away from him. he's wanted you for too damn long, he's been patient enough.

honestly, it surprised him how slow you were taking the mission. you were behind enemy lines for months, you'd think that you would want to spend the least amount of time there as possible. it's no matter though, he has you right where he wants you. "aren't you worried, (y/n)? you're so quick to trust me," he pointed out in between his harsh thrusts.

every jerk made your tits bounce; he was fucking you so hard that your hearing became fuzzy. he kept hitting your g-spot over & over with the same roughness. "mnh~ t-too fast~ ngh-ahh," you whimpered. did he say something? if he didn't, you didn't even notice. it just was so overwhelming. even though you couldn't keep your mind straight, dabi still kept fucking you like you were some sex doll.

what snapped you back to reality was when a snap echoed off the walls, & your elevation changed. there was a pressure against your chest & a slight pain your back that was soon stretched out. the chair broke from beneath you. your head was cupped by dabi's tattooed hand. he laid flush against you while he folded you in half. your knees were to your chest & your legs rested on his broad shoulders.

at this angle, you could feel his cock in your stomach pumping in & out of your pussy. you let out a scream of pleasure as you begged, "sl-slow down! c-can't handle it!"

"aww~ i'm so sorry, doll face. i can't do that for you. maybe next time though," he joked as though he wasn't pounding you into oblivion. tears of overstimulation & slight frustration welled in your eyes. it was like you were cursed to overwhelming pleasure & moaning out his name forever.

god, did he have stamina. after an hour of raw fucking, he flipped in so many different positions. after the mating press, he put you into missionary with a tight grip on your plush hips. your arousal stained his expensive carpet, not that he cared because he'll just hire someone to clean it.

while he missionary, he let out a hearty groan, & his voice broke for a second. he held you tight as he drained his cum inside of your weeping hole. you thought that would be the end, but he took only a moment to breath before flipping you over to fuck you from behind.

ass in the air, back arched, & your face pressed against the ground, you saw stars that began to cloud your already-blurry vision. he rubbed your sensitive clit while he pumped his cock in & out of gorgeous, pitiful you. you whined for an ounce of sympathy. it was your first mistake thinking he was a normal man, & your second mistake was staying quiet when he so-graciously gave you a choice on how you wanted him.

"you're taking me so well, doll~" he praised with kisses on your arched back. you clenched around him when he said that, & his brow quirked up. "oh? you like that? you're squeezing so tight after i said that," he laughed. "you're such a pretty girl, all cock drunk just f'me~"

"st-stop it, you're b-being so-so mean," you sniffled but you didn't actually mean it... you were kind of a brat, but that's a secret you'd never tell. xoxo.

once you said that, he went more rough than before-- something you didn't realize was possible. you've creamed on his cock more times than you could count on your fingers with both your hands, yet he's only ejaculated once. the white stars started out as tiny dots, yet every time you came on dabi's thick, hard cock, they grew bigger. "g-gunna, i'm g-gunna... cu.. cum," you droned, letting the white stars overtake your vision, & all the sounds you hear became nothing more than a buzz. the only thing you could hear is dabi's laughter as you slowly slipped from consciousness. you squirted all over his cock -something you've never done before- then passed out. you went completely limp as subconscious sighs of pure hormonal ecstasy mixed with your heaving breath.

"uh oh, someone couldn't handle it," dabi tutted, yet he was still relentless as ever, make good of his promise to use you however he pleased. "what time is it?" he called out, & one of his men answered.

"hmm... i think it's about time for the show to begin then~" dabi said, petting your knotted hair as he scratched your scalp (all while he's still inside you, mind you). he came all over your ass a few moments later, then he carried you to his leather couch.

~~~

"where the fuck are we?" endeavor muttered as he stood in front of an abandoned movie theater.

"this is where the tip said dabi would be," his right hand man, hawks, told him. they were both in their tactical gear equipped with war-grade guns & knives at their disposal. soldiers rushed out the back of van in a single file line & they branched off to surround the building. some hid within the trees & branches, others crouched beside the doors to the building, but they were all waiting for one thing; endeavor's command. "should we try contacting (y/n) to see if she's heard anything?"

"we can't," endeavor said shortly, it would compromise the mission if they reached out to you before the designated time. you've agreed to have a twenty minute rendezvous with one of your "co-workers" every three days at three in the morning. your next scheduled rendezvous would be tomorrow.

his walkie-talkie buzzed off, & one of the squad captains said, "team one, in position."

"team two, in position."

"team three, in position."

"team four, in position."

endeavor, after hearing each captain, responded, "team zero, in position. take initiative in three... two... one...!" the burly man kicked open the main entrance door then pointed his gun around, using the flashlight to scan the area.

on his radio, he suddenly heard, "we've found something in theater nine!"

"hold your position, i am on my way. any surrounding teams make your way towards theater nine."

he stepped over debris, ignored any graffiti on the wall, & noted just how dark the atmosphere got the further he went down the corridor. down the hall was a glowing number nine above the very end left door. the fact that there was still electricity running through the building made him wonder how long dabi has been using this place for deliveries. it made him upset that he was right under his nose.

for years he's been hunting this man, this mafia who always seemed to be two steps ahead of him. now? now he had the upper hand. he has the newest, strongest equipment. his men were in the peak physical condition with reaction times as fast as f1 drivers. yet why was it this easy? he couldn't help but wonder.

endeavor reached theater nine, hawks close behind. the rest of his team stayed out of the room for look out. the other teams were already in the theater, fingers on their guns' trigger. it made a few of them jump when the projector started. "there's a man up there!" one yelled, & immediately endeavor turned over his shoulder to shoot at the projector window.

the bullet shattered the window, narrowly missing the shadowy figure. a team was already in pursuit, the captain speaking through their radio to let the others know. the projector was still running, & a voice caught endeavor's attention. his breath hitched, eyes narrowed.

"hello, endeavor~" greeted dabi, shirtless & coy as ever. "right on time, how did i know you were gonna be here?" he taunted, & endeavor noticed dabi's icy eyes darting down then back to the camera. all that was in frame was his upper half, a grand bookshelf in the background. his arm rested stretched out on the back his sofa. the other was in his lap.

"now before you leave & try to take this film for whatever, i wanna give you some peace in mind. my initial plan was just to blow all of you gullible fuckers up, but your cute little spy begged me not to, so you all better thank her. bad news though, you're not gonna see her any time soon," dabi sighed with fake sadness.

whispers erupted from endeavors soldiers. "(y/n)? is he talking about (y/n)?" "fuck... you don't think he..."

"don't get you panties in a twist, she's more than alright. i take good care of her. honestly, i should thank you for sending her right to me. when we get married, i might invite you to the wedding~" he cackled, & a cough was heard through the video. dabi suddenly looked down & yanked something, no, someone up. the back of your head was seen on the bottom of the camera.

"you fucker," endeavor cursed, even though it would fall on deaf ears. he couldn't tear his eyes away from the video. he wasn't even studying it anymore, he was just listening in disbelief.

"i made this movie to... send a message, i guess you could say," he shrugged nonchalantly. he looked back down to you, & his eyes softened. "c'mere, princess," he whispered, & as though you were hypnotized, you climbed atop his lap. "face the camera, show everyone how pretty you are~" & you did as you were told.

gasps filled the theater, nearly everyone looked away & took off their helmets. "oh, my god," hawks said in shock, it just slipped out. he looked at his -self-proclaimed- partner to gauge his reaction. endeavor couldn't tear his icy blue eyes away from the screen. he was as stiff as a statue, breath held.

the camera zoomed out, & there you were in dabi's bare lap, he held your legs wide open. your eyelids drooped, drool made your lips glossy, & you were practically limp in his hold. goops of cum seeped out of your puffy pussy, there was ropes of his semen covered your thighs & lower stomach. hickeys & hand-shape marks bruised your skin. instead of yearning eyes, begging for help, you had a nearly lovesick smile on your face. gently, dabi kissed your head, pecking down to your cheeks & he said hushed sweet-nothings into your ear.

"don't ever try to spy on me again, endeavor. & don't try to save (y/n), she doesn't need it. i promise i'll take such good care of her~"

[stayevildarling]

could you write a natasha x reader fic based on the song wait a minute. maybe reader leaves her diary in nat's place and she reads it? something smutty, possibly a bit of corruption?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader- Wait a minute

A/N: thank you for this request anon! I'm always a bit self conscious about writing smut because I'm worried it's bad but here we go.

tags/warning: female reader, nsfw, corruption kink, mommy kink, bondage, oral, fingering, reader receiving

word count: 5.5k

taglist:

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

The sound of grunting echoes through the training room inside the avengers compound, your body hitting the mat for what feels like the hundredth time today. Gasping for air, you look up at Natasha, your mentor, towering over you, her chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. Every movement she makes is controlled and calculated, fitting for the woman who had been a trained spy and assassin at first before becoming a famous avenger.

,,Focus, солнышко'' she teases in a low, provocative tone, offering you a gloved hand to pull you up. ,,If you keep getting distracted, you will never improve''.

You can't help but flush under her gaze, sighing at the same time. The black widow has always had this effect on you, ever since you joined the recruiting programme several months ago. Mr. Stark had come across you through his contacts and wanted to bring you along straight away but some newer rules and contracts insisted on every potential new avenger to go through their skilled training programme, making sure you are ready to fight in battle. Steve Rodgers and Natasha mostly led those and much to your disliking, you had been paired with the redhead. Ever since seeing her in person for the first time, you had been in awe, feeling the attraction towards the woman and unable to shake it.

You knew from the start you shouldn't glance at her the way you did, but there was something about her that you couldn't shake. The way her body moved, the command in her voice, the knowing smirk on her lips every time she ghosts over you, the faint smell of her perfume mingling with sweat. It drove you crazy, made you forget every single thing you had trained so hard for, your goals, your desires and your usual shyness around strangers, only ever focusing on your work and goals and never usually one to back away from those, mostly keeping to yourself.

Her fingers curl around your wrist, pulling you up effortlessly as if you weigh nothing at all. She doesn't let go right away though, instead she holds your hand just a second too long, her eyes flickering down briefly to where your skin made contact. Your breathing hitches, your pulse quickening in your chest in that all too familiar way again.

,,You're distracted again'' she murmurs, barely above a whisper, some more recruits slowly filling the training room. She leans in close enough that her breath brushes your ear. ,,I think I know why''. In response you swallow hard, stepping back as you register more people in the room and trying to remain professional, your shy side suddenly bubbling to the surface. Natasha doesn't miss the way your eyes dart around the room, the blush on your cheeks. She never misses anything.

,,Again'' her voice snaps you back into the moment and she was already preparing for the next round. You couldn't concentrate, not when every fiber of your body feels turned on whenever she is around. The way she stands, the curves of her body, the glint of amusement in her green eyes, her red curls falling freely- god she was breathtaking and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up.

A few nights later, the compound is completely silent, most of the avengers either sound asleep or on missions. As the seasons had changed, the rain was now a constant friend, always pattering against the large windows and making the days much colder. Natasha finds herself lingering outside your room. She hadn't meant to, her legs had simply carried her there after a few days of noticing how you fumbled around her, how you could barely meet her gaze without the signs of nervousness. It was cute really. The black widow had been curious about you from day one, noticing you in the room full of recruits that Tony so enthusiastically introduced. You had been so excited, yet so shy around everyone, especially the avengers but especially her. Then she began training you, excited after everything Tony had told her about you and your shyness only turned her on more, seeing how she can make you an absolute mess with a single glance or touch, causing you to forget your strength, causing you to falter and since then she had been fantasising what you would feel like underneath her, falling apart but the way she wanted you, underneath her, naked.

The redhead had mostly been curious, something about you intrigued her, the raw mix of innocence and desire that you tried so hard to keep hidden, expect you were doing an awful job of it. The door to your room is slightly cracked and Natasha's eyes almost instantly fall on your small desk near the window. There it is. A small leather bound journal, half covered by some files, left innocently open. A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, it's too tempting to resist.

She slips into the room, making sure the hallway is clear before she quietly shuts the door behind her. She had known about your journal for a while now, sometimes seeing you in a quiet corner writing in it's pages while looking so innocent and she had grown curious, needing to know the contents so badly. With silent and practiced movements, she moves towards the desk. The journal is well worn, it's pages slightly curled at the edges, as if you had been pouring your thoughts in this for years.

Her fingers ghost over the corner of your journal, her eyes glinting with curiosity and something darker. She can't help but flip it open gently, the pages crackling under her touch as she reads through the first few entries. It's as she expected, your experience training, notes on some training missions, thoughts on the avengers and compound. A few personal notes about your upbringing, your family, some rough days. But as she goes further, the writing begins to shift and her name appears for the first time. You had done your best to keep your feelings and desires hidden but within these pages you let go, writing about your fantasies, how her touch lingering made you feel, how your heart races whenever she is nearby, how it would be like between you two if things could be.. different.

The further that she reads, the more personal and explicit it becomes, your handwriting shaky as you describe how it feels when her hand brushes your waist, how the heat spreads through your body when she hovers above you while training. How you touch yourself to the thought of her, how the mere mention of her name sometimes causes you to force your legs closed, how you want to feel her lips, her hands roam your body, wondering what her lips taste like, what it would feel like if she would make you feel so good. A few pages further and you begin revealing your desires, wanting to completely give your trust to your mentor, have her blindfold you, have her tie your hands, give her utter and full control over you, wanting to obey her so badly.

Her lips curl into a smile, her amusement deepening with every paragraph. This was all the proof she needed, you had been thinking about her, just like she had expected. Only you had been obsessing a little more than she initially believed, your innocence, so eager to prove yourself, yet so naive and unguarded, leaving your room open while doing your late night training in the gym, leaving your desires written for anyone who might find them. Well, Natasha had found them and that changes everything. She closes the journal quietly and slips it back exactly where and how she had found it, her mind already miles away. She suspected the attraction was mutual but now she knew just how deep it runs through your body and it thrills her.

She knew just what to do as she goes to bed that night, tomorrow she would act like nothing had changed, she would still be your mentor, the black widow and avenger, calculating and composed but she had the upper hand now and it both aroused and excited her.

The next morning, you enter the training room, trying to shake off the lingering sleep. You shiver slightly, the rain and slight wind causing you to freeze a little. You hadn't noticed anything unusual this morning, everything perfectly in place. But as you step inside the empty training room, seeing Natasha standing on the mats, arms crossed, watching you with an expressing you can't quite understand, something feels different.

,,Good morning Y/N'' she says smoothly, her voice almost a little too casual, making the shivering go away as your body burns within an instant. ,,You ready for more sparring?'' she asks and you simply nod, trying to ignore the way her eyes seem to linger on you a little longer than usual. You muster up your courage, after all Natasha always had a way of making you feel like this. Today, it feels even more intimate though, like she is waiting for you to slip up.

As the session begins, you can't help but shake the feeling that she is playing with you. Every one of her moves feels calculated, like when she catches your wrist and twists you around, pinning you to the mat. Instead of pulling back immediately, she leans down, her breath warm against your neck her body pressing into yours, just enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her.

,,You're not focused again'' she murmurs, her lips barely an inch from your ear. ,,You know I hate when you're distracted, right?'' she tuts. Your heart slams in your chest, was this simply your head or was she toying with you? It was like she knew what her closeness did to you, how your thoughts are spiralling with each fleeting moment and every time she touches you.

And then she leans in even closer, her breath ghosting over your ear yet again. ,,Tell me detka'' she purrs, her voice dropping to a whisper that only you can hear. ,,What keeps you so distracted? is there something I should know about?'' she questions so innocently. The question hangs in the air, thick with implication. She doesn't move, her body still pressed against yours, her hand gripping your wrist with just the right amount of control. She is daring you to answer, daring you to reveal the thoughts she already knows. You swallow hard, your pulse racing. You can't form words, you can't breathe but yet you can feel her smirk against your neck, like she is finally waiting for you to crack- waiting for you to admit what she already knows.

,,I'm right here, you know'' she whispers, her voice suddenly utterly comforting. ,,All you have to do is ask'' she teases, causing you to gather control of your strength and escape her grasp. Instinctively, you take a step back, putting a distance between you both as her words repeat in your mind over and over again. You freeze, heart pounding so loudly that you are sure she can hear it. ,,All you have to do is ask'' the words send a flush of heat through your body, right to your core, causing the inability to look at her, or ever respond.

The redhead however feels no rush, not moving an inch as she takes in your features, watching your pretty little brain do all the work as her words sink in. She reads your body language, how you are squeezing your fists, the trembling of your lips and breath. And in that moment you realise she is playing with you, every action before, every word deliberate. She is pushing you, testing your boundaries and suddenly the thought crosses your mind whether this was some sort of avenger thing, whether this was part of your training, whether this was to teach you about distractions on missions and you begin doubting yourself, suddenly feeling embarrassed as all the ,,what if's'' cross your mind.

,,What's wrong?'' she asks, noticing how your behaviour changes from flustered to embarassed and uncomfortable within an instant. ,,You've gone very quiet'' she teases. And then again her tone makes it obvious, causing you to believe she is doing this on purpose. ,,Natasha I-'' you struggle to form a coherent sentence, overwhelmed by your insecurities, the doubting but also the clear attraction and signals your body is sending you.

,,I have read your diary'' she whispers, her voice soft but dangerous. Your stomach drops, a sharp wave of panic surging through you as the words sink in. She knew. Suddenly your face goes incredibly pale as the realisation sinks in that she had read every single one of your thoughts, every filthy dirty secret. Before Natasha can carry on with her game, you abruptly leave, at first feeling like you are going to be sick before feeling the pure embarrassment of this situation. You run to your room so fast that everything begins spinning but Natasha of course is much faster than you.

As you reach your room, a panting mess as you lean against the nearest wall, she is already right behind you, closing the door, before halting. ,,I know what you want detka'' she continues, her tone smooth. ,,I know exactly what you feel when I touch you, when I'm close to you''. ,,You've been thinking about it for a while haven't you?'' You can't help but bite your lip, desperately trying to catch and control your breathing. There is no point in denying it now, she has all the power.

,,Natasha I-'' you start again but your voice falters, you can't admit it, not yet, not with how she is so close yet so far away. ,,It's okay, you don't have to say anything darling'' she teases. With slow and deliberate steps, she approaches you but you back away just as slowly. And almost as if the two of you dance, your breath hitching with every step she is taking towards you, you suddenly reach the wall, again now her having the full control over you.

Her fingers slide down your arm, trailing over your waist before settling at your hip, her grip firm and possessive. She doesn't move quickly, she isn't rushing. She is savouring this, taking her sweet time with you. ,,I can make it real for you'' she whispers against your ear, her lips barely brushing the side of it. ,,Everything you wrote down, every little thought sweetheart... I'm going to give it to you''.

Your breath hitches, a small moan slipping out, the promise of her words causes your head to spin, You feel her pressing closer, her hand slipping up your side, leaving a trail of heat. You can't help but arch your back, just slightly, into her touch. The tension had been building between you for so long and it's finally there that you can't fight it back any longer.

,,You have thought about this detka, haven't you?'' her voice is low, her lips ghosting over your skin. ,,About me doing this.. holding you down, making you admit how badly you want it''. And of course the trained spy was right, it had been there all along in your journal, the words you had spilled out late at night while touching yourself to the thought of her. You had thought about her in control, the way she could dominate you, and now she was right there, willing to give it all to you.

Her fingers curl into your waist, tugging you just a little closer to her, enough for you to feel her breath hot on your neck. ,,I know you want this'' she whispers, her voice soft but commanding. ,,You don't have to hide it anymore, pretty baby'' she encourages. You tremble under her touch, the weight of her words sending a thrill right through you. Every inch of you is tense with anticipation, waiting hoping. She had taken the first step and there was no turning back now.

,,Tell me darling'' she murmurs, her lips inches away from your own, her voice dripping with control. ,,Are you ready to stop pretending?'' she questions.

,,Yes'' the answer quite literally bursts out of you as you meet her gaze, unable to pretend any longer, needing her, wanting her with every fibre of your being. A knowing smirk creeps it's way onto her features, this being what she had wanted all along and now she had you right where she wanted you. ,,Good'' she whispers before stepping back. ,,Meet me tonight in my room at 8pm'' she instructs and your mouth is left hanging open in shock. ,,What?!'' you ask, your breathing heavy. ,,And don't you dare touch yourself darling, I need you to be good and patient for me'' she teases, kissing your cheek before disappearing from your room, leaving you a panting mess.

The rest of the day passes by in a painfully slow blur, your mind completely consumed by her words, her presence still lingering on your skin, and the promise of what was to come tonight. Every second feels agonisingly slow, despite you opting for an everything shower, taking your sweet time as you get your body clean and ready for the redhead. You make sure to choose one of your expensive lotions, your favourite underwear and dress. ,,Don't touch yourself, darling'' the words keep repeating in your mind, your body aching with frustration.

Your entire focus is on 8 pm tonight, when you would finally be in her room alone. What would she do? What would she want from you? The very thought makes your stomach flutter with a mixture of nerves and excitement. You try and distract yourself as much as you can but nothing can pull you out of the haze that Natasha has left on you.

By the time you arrive at her door, your heart is hammering in your chest. You stand there frozen for a moment, nerves twisting in your stomach, your hand frozen mid air before knocking. Finally, you force yourself to tap your knuckles against the wood, the sound final and sharp. The door creaks open almost immediately, revealing Natasha standing there, dressed in something far more relaxed than her usual combat gear, a simple black tank top and loose sweatpants. But there is nothing casual about the way she looks at you, her eyes roaming over the dress, your exposed skin. ,,Come in'' she offers, stepping aside to let you pass.

You swallow hard and enter the room, it's dimly lit, warm and inviting but the air feels thick with tension. Natasha closes the door, behind you with a quiet click and suddenly it feels like you are trapped, no escape or turning back. You stand in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with yourself as your body buzzes with anticipation. The redhead circles around you slowly, her eyes never leaving yours, as if she is savouring every second of your discomfort, every tremble running through you.

,,You listened to me didn't you?'' she asks, her voice low and teasing. ,,You didn't touch yourself?'' she questions, causing you to nod quickly, your mouth dry, struggling to find your voice. ,,Good girl'' she praises, stopping in front of you, her hand reaching out to gently cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze. ,,You're going to be so good for me tonight, aren't you?'' she whispers. Her words send another shiver down your spine, you open your mouth to respond but Natasha doesn't give you the chance. Her lips crash into yours, hot and demanding, her fingers gripping your jaw with just enough force to keep you exactly where she wants you.

Her lips overwhelm you, consuming every bit of you, gaining every ounce of control over you within an instant as her mouth moves against yours, her tongue teasing, coaxing you to give in. You can't help but melt into her touch, your hand instinctively reaching for her waist, pulling her closer to you. But before you can lose yourself completely, Natasha pulls back, her breath heavy, her lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. She smirks down at you, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip as if she is claiming it, marking what is now hers.

,,Patience'' she whispers, her voice sending a thrill through you. ,,I'm not done with you yet'' she teases as she steps behind you. You close your eyes, feeling her circling you like prey again. Before you know it you feel a cool silk fabric covering your eyes as she blindfolds you, just like in your entries. Next, her hand brushes down your arm, finding your hand in hers and leading you somewhere. It felt both scary and exciting, giving her control, strangely trusting the woman with your entire life. It all passes by in a blur as she lays you on what you assume to be the bed, in an instant lifting your arms above your head before you feel something cool but much sharper on your wrists and the clicking moments later only confirms your fantasies about being chained to her bed.

The room is absolutely silent, the only sound to be heard your own breathing and despite your inability to see you can feel the woman's presence as the bed dips moments later. ,,You have been so patient, waiting for this so long detka'' she whispers as she hovers above you, her breath hot on your body. Her fingers begin gently trailing down your arms, causing you to shiver, your breath hitching yet again. Her hands begin trailing lower and lower but painfully slow, causing you to move your hands, testing the restraints but you quickly learn it's no use, Natasha smirking as she finally had you right where she wanted, solely in her control.

The black widow takes her sweet time, watching as goosebumps form on your arms with every bit of movement of her fingers, watching as your thighs press together when her hands slowly reach your bottom half. Your nipples perfectly peak through the dress, causing Natasha to bite her lip in anticipation. She had every intention of taking it slow with you, knowing she could do anything and everything but there is something so sweet, so innocent about you in this moment that she finds it hard to control herself, wanting to feel you right now, wanting to draw out all those sweet little noises she had fantasised about for weeks now.

After endless teasing and her kissing about every inch of your body, already having you a whimpering mess, she finally begins moving your dress, exposing your underwear and she smirks as she notices the mess you had made simply from her touches. ,,Oh my..you are soaked'' she smiles, causing your cheeks to glow red but your breathing still heavy as you need her so badly at this point. ,,Please Natasha'' you beg, unable to keep any form of dignity at this point as you need her to touch you, to make you feel good just like she had promised you.

And this time she uses the surprise element, ripping off your underwear in one deliberate movement before her tongue dives right into your glistening core, giving you no chance to adjust, no chance to catch your breathing as you begin whimpering uncontrollably. The redhead begins devouring you, your taste even sweeter than she could have ever imagined, knowing already she was never going to get sick of the taste. Your hands form into fists despite the cuffs, your chest heaving as the pleasure runs through your body, so close to the edge already as you had waited so long, so patiently and had grown so desperate. ,,Fuck'' she pants as she catches her breath for a second. ,,You taste so good detka'' she praises, sending you into another moaning fit.

The black widow had considered for a while just what she was going to do to you tonight, whether she was going to use any of her toys on you, stretch you out the way she had imagined. But again she had learnt through your diary that you aren't too experienced, wanting to cherish tonight, do exactly what she had read you wanted. And so she begins diving into you again, this time at a much more brutal pace, causing you to lose yourself completely in the moment, the only thing you are able to do at this point, breathing and moaning. She doesn't stop, relentlessly pushing her tongue into your core, already able to feel you clenching around her, your juices flowing freely on her tongue, causing her own arousal to get the better of her.

For a moment she stops, not to punish you, not to torture you longer but simply to smile at you. You are perfect, exactly what she wanted and needed, a perfect little toy for her to play with, so good, so obedient and she knows she wanted to take your time with you from now on, not wanting this to be the only time she would get to see you fall apart for this. She watches in awe as you move against the restraints, your body simply a shivering mess before she smirks ,,You have done so good sweetheart'' she praises, causing you to smile a little which only makes her feel even more for you in this moment.

Without warning she enters one of her fingers and you immediately clench around her, the release so close yet so far away. She knows you could fall apart simply from one finger but she needed to hear you, needed you to beg for her. She hovers over you, her finger still moving inside you before she kisses you, her tongue fighting for entrance and you grant it immediately, moaning as you taste your own arousal on her lips. ,,God Natasha please'' you beg as she pulls away and the woman is enjoying this far too much. She leans back, before relentlessly adding another finger, curling them perfectly just to hit your sensitive spot.

,,Please.. god.. Tasha.. Please'' you beg, needing permission, needing her to finally let you cum and feel so good. ,,You sound so good when you beg for me sweetie'' she teases, causing you to pout in frustration. ,,How about you tell mommy exactly what you need?'' she teases, casing you to moan at the name she had chosen for herself, a drooling mess at this point. It takes you a second to recover before you respond. ,,Please mommy, can you fuck me? just fuck me please... I wanna cum for you, I want you to make me feel so good mommy please'' you beg over and over again, the sound so sweet it almost causes Natasha to tip over the edge.

,,Good girl'' she praises before she begins relentlessly pounding into your glistening pussy, her tongue finding your clit and the sensation sends you into overdrive, causing your entire body to shake as your orgasm begins washing over you. ,,Please mommy, may I cum?'' you ask and this was it. This was exactly what Natasha needed, she never expected you to be this good and obedient especially after the first time and she was sure she was going to please you in every way now. Her fingers move faster, curling deeper and harder into your core as her tongue flicks circles around your clit, and before you know it, she feels your walls tightening around your fingers, your white precious liquid spilling out of your core and onto her fingers, the sweet juice hitting her taste buds again as her tongue savours every single drop.

You didn't even realise you had been screaming for the entirety of your orgasm, never having felt something like this feeling in your entire life. Natasha had simply enjoyed, watched you as she savoured every bit of your dripping cum, her fingers still right where they had been. ,,Oh god'' you moan as you try and catch your breathing. ,,You did so good detka'' she praises as she finally pulls back and slowly extracts her fingers, knowing you must feel so sensitive now. With slow and gentle movements, she undoes the handcuffs and blindfold, finally granting you freedom again. You feel dizzy as you open your eyes, still in a haze of the orgasm that had washed over you moments before, your breathing still heavy. ,,Taste yourself detka'' she orders as she holds her two fingers out to your mouth and you obey as she hovers above you again, meeting her eyes that now seem much softer, much more content, almost as if you had pleased her.

She smiles as she kisses your lips, before pulling back ,,You did so well detka'' she praises, causing your cheeks to coat in a slight red shade again. Before you know it however, she gets up, leaving the bed as she gets rid of her supplies, walking away to get a wipe and clean her hands. Despite the daze of your orgasm and this night, your heart still pounding in your chest, you sit up on her bed, collecting yourself and pulling your dress up. ,,What are you doing?'' she questions, her eyebrows knitting as she comes back from the bathroom. ,,Um I- I wasn't sure if you wanted me to leave now'' you mumble, almost a little shy and she tilts her head before tutting. ,,Leave?'' she chuckles lowly. ,,Oh detka, I'm running us a bath, I'm far from done with you'' she teases and your stomach drops at her words, the earlier excitement rushing right back through you, knowing this wasn't a one time thing and curious what else she had planned for you. And if one thing was clear, Natasha wasn't going to let you go, not now, not ever, having found her perfect little detka, so innocent, so sweet and so obedient, just for her.

[projectdark-if]

Project DARK is an 18+ character-driven SPY IF inspired by a rather eventful weekend binging on Mission Impossible movies. It can be described as Suicide Squad meets Mission Impossible. MC, a retired villain, will be a new operative in a team to bring down their old best friend.

You were a jewel thief and hired mercenary, outsourcing your skills at thievery and espionage for all types of...shady characters. Yeah, you were aiding in the possible destruction of the world in exchange for money, but details, right?

You were the best in the business alongside your partner, Spider. You're not supposed to get close to people in this business, but Spider somehow weaseled into your life and became your best friend.

But then they died, killed by operatives of Mission Shadow, the one organization that has been hunting you down since day one. You decided to retire, changing your name and identity in an attempt to make an honest and private life of what you have left.

Until Project DARK finds you.

Project DARK: an experiment to put the most together the most skilled shadow villains to train and defeat the biggest threat they've faced.

Your best friend, whom you thought was dead.

They need you and your skills. You know Spider best. No longer are you the villain, but a Project DARK operative joining as the newest recruit to the ranks.

Good luck.

Customize your operative from appearance, personality, gender identity.

Tailor your past: were you a merciful villain, or a merciless one? Did you make enemies or try to make friends? Liked for being kind and easy to work with or hated for being the literal worst?

Romance members of your team or your target, with some having special relationships.

Choose what kind of operative you'll be and shape the dynamic of the team.

Try not to fall into old habits and get sucked into the dark world of crime. You left that life for a reason.

THE TARGET | Spider [m or f]: your old best friend and the new target. They've been busy since their 'death' and have grown a network of connections that can dismantle the world as you know it. They're apparently planning something big. Big enough that the organizations of the world created Project DARK to take them down.

Special romance: can have had previous thing with them that was never confronted or simply have been best friends.

THE LEADER | Elias/Elena Steel: one of the best operatives, personally recommended by MI6. The only non-villain on the team, E is also appointed leader and doesn't like you much, considering the fact that a mission of yours ended with their closest partner dead. While you may have not pulled the trigger, E blames you all the same.

Strict and as cold as steel, it makes sense why E is the one with the team on their shoulders.

Special romance: enemies to lovers. E hates your guts.

THE SECOND IN COMMAND | Nick/Nina Sharma: second-in-command and a retired illegal weapons dealer, N is, surprisingly, E's closest friend. N has long given up that life, but before their new work as a operative, you knew them as a distant associate. You two have crossed paths on multiple occasions, most of them happening with them almost killing you or vice versa. N can't help but be nice, but you can tell they're not really a fan of you.

Special romance: may have had a lapse in judgement and have had a one night stand...or multiple.

THE BRAINS | Zane/Zena Omari: One of the most skilled hackers and a familiar face on the FBIs most wanted list, Z is on the team in order to be able to go back home without getting arrested. Oddly enough, they're not what the media says they are. Friendly, warm, comedic. Z seems to be having too much of a good time, even with the circumstances surrounding their presence.

THE WEAPONS EXPERT | Luca/Lucia Cruz: L doesn't know you much, and doesn't care to. Hyper-focused on the mission, L's disinterest in you is a breath of fresh air. You don't know what they did and how they got here, but you do know they were facing a life sentence. Still, things aren't always what they seem.

Maybe it won't stay that way.

[dalishious]

All About The Antivan Crows

(NOTE: This piece is a revised, 2nd edition of an old one, updated with information that has since been added to the lore. I will be deleting the outdated post to avoid confusion!)

The Antivan Crows, also known as the House of Crows, is a league of assassins from the northeast nation of, as their name suggests, Antiva. While their notoriety is especially high in their home country, the Crows are well-known across Thedas as brutally efficient killers. The bulk of their work is in Antiva, but they accept contracts all over the continent. Because of their reputation for adhering to agreements—something that should one fail to do makes one’s life forfeit as far as the Crows are concerned—they are an expensive but valuable investment.

To find the Crows anywhere from Ferelden to Seheron is not an unlikely sight. Nations at war send them to cut down leaders on opposing sides. Noble houses with grudges against each other send them to cut down family trees. And of course, politicians vying for power send them to cut down their competition. Whatever the reason, the Crows are never short on contracts. They are even willing to intervene in Circle politics.

While assassinations are the most common contract, and what the Crows are most known for, they’re also no strangers to thievery and spying. In Antiva City rests a giant, well-protected archive, housing of all their collected blackmail secrets, records of past contracts, recipes for their own special poisons, and other such valuables. The secrets in this archive are what keeps the Crows ruling Antiva from the shadows by controlling the nobility and merchant princes. That is, those that aren’t among their ranks.

At the very top of the power ladder is a council of Guildmasters made up of the eight most wealthy and powerful Crow Houses. The role of Guildmaster is most typically inherited down through a family, after successfully proving their skill by single-handedly killing a target with nothing but a ceremonial dagger. The Houses that are part of this council are known as Talons, ranked from one to eight, one being the most powerful. Talon has also been used interchangeably with Guildmaster when referring to the leader of one of these eight Houses.

Below the Talons are the lesser Houses, known as the Cuchillos. The Cuchillo leaders not Guildmasters but simply Masters, entitled as Lords, until their House may gain the rank of Talon. The ranks of these different houses can change with circumstance, gaining or losing power. House heads are also capable of taking over different houses by eliminating others, should they dare to be so ambitious. As such, despite being part of a larger organization, the Antivan Crows are always in competition with each other, and are not unknown to assassinate within their own ranks to get what they want.

The current Eight Talons are as followed:

Dellamorte

Balazar

Valisti

Kortez

De Riva

Nero

Cantori

Arainai

Other known Houses are:

Ferragani

D’Evaliste

Di Bastion

Members of the Antivan royal family and merchant prince dynasties routinely join the high-ranks of the Crows, either as a way to boost their social standing, or because they were forced into it. Assassinations are seen as part of everyday politics in Antiva, and how positions of power often change hands. Having strong ties with the Crows brings a noble family both leverage and security. They also have an arrangement referred to as The Azul Contract, in which bastard royal children are given a choice of either exile or joining the Crows – such as the case was with Viago de Riva. In return, the Antivan Crows all but run the nation. Even kings have come directly from the Crows.

While the Crows are mostly led by nobility, the bulk of their organization is made up of their recruits, though the word recruit makes it sound like there was a choice involved. The vast majority of recruits, referred to as compradi, are children between the ages of five and ten, bought as slaves or found on the streets alone. For example, Zevran Arainai was seven years old when he was bought by the Crows. Compradi are usually gathered in scores at a time, though only a few survive to become full-fledged assassins. The Crows keep the children in poor, cramped quarters, and raise them in emotionally detached and torturous conditions, teaching them to know nothing else but murder, as Zevran puts it. They are allowed no personal items, and are encouraged not to make friends. Along with general training and education in Crow ciphers and Crow history, training of recruits includes pitting them against each other, tests of pain resistance and gauntlets, and challenges like locking them in an oubliette for weeks. All this leads most Antivan Crows immune to morality as much as they are to interrogation. It also breeds loyalty to the only life recruits know. Indeed, many Crows would sooner kill themselves than betray the guild.

It is very rare for a recruit to rise all the way to the top of the organization’s tiered leadership, but not unheard of. For example, Teia Cantori, climbed her way to the head of her house – but despite this, she is still regarded as an “overreaching street rat” by her noble peers.

The Crows favour recruiting elves, as they are widely regarded as beautiful and unthreatening; both advantageous impressions for an assassin. However, they take recruits from all races. Assassins are most typically rogues, but the Crows also train warriors and even mages, providing protection for their apostate assassins from the Chantry.

An experienced Assassin may gain the title of Master Assassin with time, putting them just below the leader of their House in terms of rank. Masters are capable of deciding their own contracts, and command groups of Assassins below them. Guildmasters decide which Master Assassins get which contracts based on the amount of the contract’s offer they bid to give to the guild, and their chances of success. Regularly, Assassins are not allowed to bid on contracts, and are instead assigned contracts or roles in larger ones by the Master Assassins that command them. The exception to this is when an Assassin is attempting to gain the rank of Master.

Save for rare exceptions of escape, Crows are Crows for life. The only way to leave them is to make them think you are dead, or find someone willing to protect you from them. Otherwise they will hunt you down and kill you for betraying the guild, and that is the better alternative: Anyone who angers the Crows and lives risks ending up in their own personal prison, the Velabanchel, to spend the rest of their days locked up and tortured.

Antivan Crows are often easily identifiable by those who recognize their unique tattoos – a tradition taken from the Rivaini. Some of these designs are sacred to the Crows, marking them as which house they belong to, while others are purely decorative. While some Crows display their tattoos with pride and intimidation, others prefer to keep them hidden.

-----

SOURCES

Dragon Age: Origins

Dragon Age II

Dragon Age: Inquisition

Codex Entry: Zevran Arainai (Dragon Age II)

Codex entry: Blackfeather Boots (Dragon Age II)

Codex entry: Finesse (Dragon Age II)

Codex Entry: The Crows and Queen Madrigal (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Item Description: Gift of the Talons (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights

Dragon Age: Last Flight

Dragon Age: The Silent Grove

Dragon Age: Deception

Dragon Age: The World of Thedas vol. 1

Dragon Age: The World of Thedas vol. 2

Dragon Age Promotional Wiki: Assassin

-----

If you find these kinds of pieces fun and/or helpful, please consider supporting me!