#American assassin smut

[murdrdocs]

wait no because like fucking around with mitch even though you dislike each other but he's still training you bc he was told to.

he'd 100% test your limits and he'd love watching you get frustrated towards him!!! 😩

mmmmm you're so right anon

he'd absolutely love to push you during training, all in the name of bringing a fire out of you that you need if you want to survive. that's what he tells you at least. but he's a little bit of a sadist, and a lot of a masochist, so the torture he's putting you through is more so for his own pleasure than anything else. he likes the feeling of his shoulders getting pushed back with the force of your fist hitting the mitt. he lives for the bruises you leave on his body after he makes you. he spends hours coming up with conditioning and new skills to teach you for the next session, even when he pretends to be all nonchalant about it.

he pretends to hate the scheduled hours you two have together. he pretends that he would rather be anywhere else than in the ring with you, or on a run with you. but the image of you sweaty, and out of breath, seemed to quickly become one of his favorites. so much so that he ends up seeing it in a completely different setting, far too many times.

he stills hates you. he's still reluctantly training you only because those were his orders. he refuses to let his guard drop, because then he knows it's going to be hard to put it back up. so he riles you up with taunts during training, even going so low as to insinuate that you're weak for letting him fuck you the night before. teasingly mentioning the way you'd easily submitted for his cock, deep into the hours of the night. claiming that you wouldn't be moving so sluggishly like you are now if you weren't losing your mind bouncing on his dick just hours ago.

it's a little cruel, and maybe deep down inside mitch feels regretful, but then your punch has a lot more force behind it and his shoulder burns just a bit, pulling him out of his mind and back in action.

#whew #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x you #mitch rapp smut #mitch rapp #celeste writes misc #American assassin x reader #American assassin smut

[slut4thebroken]

Russian Roulette

Pairing | Mitch Rapp x reader

Summary | Assassin!reader won’t talk. mitch knows just what to do to fix that Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, gun play, fear play, degradation, cnc (barely), breeding, face fucking, crying, edging, light praise, choking, brat taming, deep throating, Words | 8k Notes | Here it is folks! The long awaited russian roulette fic😌 I do plan to edit this again and republish it in the future but I’m happy with it for now. Enjoy!! (p.s. I’m more likely to post stuff that isn’t completely perfect in my eyes (even tho it’s literally still good lmao) if I have positive reinforcement😭 just an fyi if y’all want more💀) Ao3 link | <3 Masterlist

It was supposed to be a simple mission. One you’ve done hundreds of times by now.

Seduce the target, then kill the target.

Every mission, your boss gives you a name, picture, location, and time. That’s how you found yourself at a hotel bar, wearing a skimpy dress and strappy heels, waiting for Mitch Rapp.

You’re excited for this one. Usually the men are either old perverts or young, inexperienced, and cocky. But every once in a while there'd be a man who’d challenge you. A man who made the game exciting. And Mitch seems like that kind of man.

You sipped your drink and looked around the bar. Finally you saw him walk in. He went to the opposite side of the bar and ordered a drink. When he looked up, he caught your eyes. You didn’t look away and just gave him a small smile. His face was emotionless but you didn’t let that deter you. You leaned forward with your elbows on the bar, pushing your breasts together, and watched as his eyes followed the movement. When his drink was set in front of him, he grabbed it then started walking toward you, making you laugh internally. Men are so easy.

“Hi.” You said, setting your drink down after he sat next to you.

“Hi.” His voice definitely matches his face.

“I’m Evelyn.” You lied.

“Dylan.” He lied as well. Your targets were rarely smart enough to use a fake name, usually too focused on your tits and the promise of a good fuck instead.

“Do you live around here?” You asked, twirling a piece of hair around your finger.

“No. I’m here on business.” He took a sip of his drink and looked you up and down, this time spending more time on your legs.

“Oh me too. Well, business and then a little vacation time before I have to go back.” Which was another lie. You never stay anywhere right after a mission. “Although I do have time for some fun before I have to work.” You gave him a small smirk and crossed your legs, making your dress ride up your thigh.

“Oh yeah? How much time?”

“Probably a couple hours. My boss is flexible.” Lie. He hates when you’re late. But you’re horny and, target or not, there’s a hot man in front of you. He can wait a little longer than planned.

“What do you say, Dylan? Wanna keep me company for a few hours?” You set your hand on his thigh lightly. When you started sliding it up, he grabbed your wrist, his fingers completely encircling it. Probably to keep you from finding a concealed weapon.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He said lowly.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You bit your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “C’mon, let’s have some fun.” You leaned your face closer to his and felt his grip on your wrist tighten.

“I promise I’ll be a good girl.” You whispered, breath fanning against his lips. His eyes roamed your face for a few seconds before suddenly using his grip to pull you from your seat, over to the elevator. You’re thankful your purse was already on your shoulder because you definitely wouldn’t have remembered to grab it… And you definitely need it to finish the mission. Not that you can’t kill someone without a gun, it’s just easier.

You entered the elevator and he pushed the button for his floor. When the doors closed he slammed your back against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, making you moan in surprise. His hands gripped your waist tightly and yours went to his hair. He kissed you passionately, his tongue fighting for dominance with yours. When he rolled his hips into you, you pulled back with a gasp. He was quick to move to your neck, pressing kisses and leaving hickeys along the sides. You moaned again and his hand snaked down your leg then up your dress on the outside of your thigh.

“Oh my god!”

You both pulled away quickly. An older lady stood outside the elevator with her mouth open in shock. You hadn’t even heard the elevator ding. Mitch checked the floor number then swiftly exited, pulling you behind him.

“Sorry.” You gave the lady a sheepish smile as you walked past her. You entered his room quickly and he slammed you against the wall again. When his lips met yours, you started trying to push his jacket off his shoulders. He obliged then pulled back to take his shirt off.

You were too horny to think about what the proper reply should be when someone has scars like this. Maybe that’s what gave you away.

He pulled your purse off your shoulder and threw it on the dresser next to you. You internally cringed when it landed with a really loud thump, seeing as your phone and gun are both in it.

He kissed you again and started sliding both of his hands up the outside of your thighs, this time making sure to pull your dress up. He placed his leg between yours and you stifled a moan. When he bit your lip, you gave in, starting to grind on his thigh. His hands reached your hips and he gripped them tightly, forcing you to continue rocking against him.

Mitch moved to your neck again, leaving more hickeys and occasionally biting the sensitive skin. He reached your collar bones and continued down your chest but pulled back when he reached your dress. He looked at you with dark eyes then placed his hand on your neck. You gasped and started rutting against him harder.

He leaned his head down next to yours, putting his mouth by your ear, then whispered, “Who are you?”

“W-what?” You didn’t register the question, still focusing on grinding against him. He leaned back to look at you and tightened his hand on your neck, making you release a choked moan.

“Who the fuck are you?” Your hips stuttered to a stop. Shit. They never figure it out until there’s a gun to their head. Maybe he means something else. “Who do you work for?” He said, harsher this time.

Okay so he definitely doesn’t mean something else. Fuck. He slammed your head against the wall and you winced.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dylan, you’re scaring me.” You said quietly.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He growled. He tightened his grip, and even pushed on your windpipe, making you claw at his hand, trying to remove it.

“You’re hurting me.” You whimpered, feeling tears pool in your eyes from the lack of oxygen. “Dylan, please.” You gasped, letting the tears fall- all of it adding to your performance. His grip loosened and your chest heaved, trying to take in as much air as possible. Finally you caught your breath and then made your move- it’s too risky to stay in this position when you don’t know what he’s capable of.

You punched him in the nose and he stumbled back, clearly surprised. You ran the couple of steps to reach for your purse but were yanked back by your hair until you landed on the ground in front of him, his gun aimed at your head.

“Who are you?” He asked again, his voice harsher now.

There are three ways you can play this. Accept your fate, continue with the act and hope you fool him, or fight and finish the assignment. In reality, there was only one option because of your ego.

“Honestly I’m surprised you figured it out so soon. Most of them don’t until they’re already dead.” You smirked, looking up at him. “Although the few that do figure it out usually are smart enough to try and get their dick wet before doing anything.” His face remained emotionless and it only spurred you on.

“What gave me away?” You started taking off your heels, preparing for a fight or a quick escape. “C’mon Mitch,” You continued when he didn’t reply, “I gotta know how to improve for my next job.”

“Who are you?” You kept looking up at him and moved onto your knees, not giving him an answer. Suddenly, his gun hit your temple, the force making you fall onto your hip. You brought your hand up to feel the injury, no blood at least but it’ll definitely bruise.

“Fucking, dick! What was that for?”

“It’s going to get a whole lot worse for you if you don’t start answering my questions.”

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” He cocked the gun and held it closer to your head making you chuckle. “You won’t do that.”

“Why’s that?” He deadpanned.

“Because your dick’s still hard.” You whispered, placing a hand on his bulge, waiting for him to remove it. He looked you up and down and you could only imagine what you look like right now. Because based on what you can feel, your dress is dangerously low on your chest and high on your thighs, and not to mention the number of hickeys you probably have. He put his gun in the waistband of his pants behind him and you smirked triumphantly.

Mitch crouched in front of you and you tried to plan how you could grab either his gun off him or your own. One hand fisted your hair and roughly pulled your head back, making you gasp.

“I’m going to ask you again. And I’m going to keep asking and hurting you more and more until you finally tell me.”

“Who are you?” You kept your mouth shut and stared at him. He removed his hand from your hair to land a swift punch on your cheek before grabbing it again. The dull throbbing hurt like hell but you kept your poker face.

“Who do you work for?” When you didn’t answer, he punched you twice this time. You could taste the blood in your mouth and you debated spitting it in his face.

“You’re wasting your time. You might as well just kill me.” You wiped off some blood you felt dripping on the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been trained to endure every type of torture in the book.” He examined you again but this time you grew nervous under his gaze. Finally he hummed and stood up.

“You’re right. I’m going about this all wrong.”

“What?” You barely got the word out before he grabbed your hair again, lifting you off the floor and throwing you onto the bed. “What the hell are you doing??” You scrambled backwards to the head of the bed when he started moving toward you.

“Luckiky for you, I know a type of torture that’s not in the book. Take your dress off.”

“W- no!” He sighed and got on the bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you until you laid on your back. Mitch grabbed the hem of your dress and ripped it in half easily. You wanted to be angry with him so badly… but the horny part of your brain is outweighing any logic right now.

He pulled the shreds of fabric off your body until you were left in just underwear- foregoing a bra earlier because of the dress’s low back.

Mitch straddled your hips and placed a hand on your neck, leaning down so his nose brushed yours. You closed your eyes, waiting, but you only felt his breath fan against your lips as he chuckled.

“You’re lucky I don’t just kill you right now.” He rasped. His hand moved up to grip your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout. “What do you say when I’m being so generous?”

Fuck you. Is what you wanted to say.

“Thank you…” You muttered, looking at the wall next to you. You assumed Mitch was satisfied because he released your face and sat up. He dragged his nails down your ribs and you hissed at the sting. Finally he reached your underwear.

“Such a fucking slut.” He mumbled under his breath and you bit your tongue. “No bra and this pathetic excuse for underwear? Baby, you’re just asking for it aren’t you?” He cooed. You wanted to beat the patronizing tone right out of him, but you couldn’t help the reaction you actually had. He smirked when he noticed you clenching your thighs together beneath him.

Mitch grabbed your underwear and ripped it in half, a lot easier than your dress. He removed the fabric and you started squirming under him. His hands held your hips still and his thumb brushed across your mound, teasing you. You bucked your hips and whined.

“Oh I’m sorry. Did you want something?” You glared at him and his smirk returned.

“You know, if you don’t know how to please a woman you can just say that. You don’t have to drag it out and stall.” His smirk immediately turned into a scowl and he raised his hand to hit you again but froze when he heard an unfamiliar phone go off. He got off you and you started to sit up but he grabbed his gun, pointing it at you.

“Stay.”

You rolled your eyes at the command. He grabbed your purse from the dresser and walked back over to the bed, gun still aimed at you.

“That’s my boss probably wondering where I am.” You said when the ringing stopped.

“I thought you said he’s flexible.”

“I lied.”

The ringing started again and he pulled the phone out of your purse. He looked at the unknown number then to you.

“You’re going to answer and you’re going to lie. Otherwise it’s a bullet in your head. Understand?” You nodded and he answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

“What’s taking so long?” He snapped.

“I’m just wrapping up. I’ll be in tomorrow instead of tonight… This guy was a lot more trained than you said.”

“You better not have slept with him again-“

“That literally happened one time and I still finished the assignment. How many more times are you going to bring it up?” You asked, very annoyed and wanting to get back to Mitch. Speaking of him, you looked up at him and saw his eyebrows were raised. You just rolled your eyes and flipped him off.

“Don’t be late.” The call abruptly ended and you found yourself wondering why you had covered for him. You’re not afraid to die… but it was almost instinctual to lie to your boss and that scared you. Because if Mitch had the power to make you do that… what else could he make you do?

You cleared your throat and looked up at him. He tossed your phone on the floor then continued digging through your purse. He pulled out your revolver and smirked.

“Cute.”

“Yeah I bet you’ll think it’s really cute when one of those bullets goes through dick-“

“Watch your fucking mouth. That’s your final warning.”

“Or what?” You challenged him. He set your gun on the bed behind him and kneeled over your hips again.

“Open.” You kept your mouth shut as tight as possible and he sighed. Mitch grabbed your cheeks and forced your jaw down then slid his gun into your mouth. You gagged at the taste and tried to get away from it but he was practically holding your head down. When you gagged again, this time it was because he shoved it further into your mouth. You felt tears well up in your eyes, then fall down your temples.

“Poor baby, crying over a few inches. How do you think you’re going to take my cock if you can’t even take this, hm?” You attempted to whine around the gun but it just sounded like a garbled moan. Mitch fucked his gun in and out of your mouth slowly and you continued to squirm under him.

“Careful, baby. One wrong move and I could accidentally pull the trigger. We don’t want that now do we?” You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, your body going stiff.

“There you go.” He purred. You continued gagging and crying, just wanting to be done with this part already.

“Take it.” He uttered softly. After a few more long seconds he removed it, a trail of saliva connecting the barrel and your lips. You coughed and tried to catch your breath, then looked up at him through your lashes, your lips were slightly parted as you panted.

He reached up and placed a hand on your cheek. You tried not to read into it when you leaned your head against his palm. His thumb wiped the remainder of your tears, then moved down to trace your lips. He just barely put his thumb in your mouth when you closed your lips around it and sucked lightly. You swirled your tongue around his finger, then opened your lips slightly. He removed his thumb, dragging your bottom lip down on the way out.

Your thighs were squeezed together and you bucked your hips before you could stop yourself. He chuckled and removed his hand from your face, groping your breasts instead. You gasped when he pinched your nipples and then winced when he tugged even harder.

“Ow.” You mumbled. He ignored you and did it again. “You know, you don’t have to be so rough with it. It feels perfectly fine when you do it lighter.”

“Oh I know. But here’s the thing,” He leaned down in front of your face, “I’m not trying to make you feel good, and I especially don’t care if it feels good or not.” He glanced at your lips, then leaned back up.

“I’m going to keep hurting you. And if your slutty little head can’t tell the difference, that’s not my fault.” He shrugged and you pouted.

“There’s not even a small part of you that wants to make me feel good?” You looked up at him through your lashes. His hands grabbed your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your stomach.

“You know, usually when someone tries to kill me… that’s not a very good incentive for me to pleasure them.” You just rolled your eyes.

“But I understand why you’re confused, baby.” His tone was dripping with condescension. “Because we both know you’re not leaving here alive and yet, I’d bet you’re all too willing and eager to please me.” You scoffed and he raised his eyebrows, as if to say am I wrong?

“Tough luck.” You snickered, feeling his grip tighten on your waist. “I’m a pillow princess. So I’m perfectly content right here.” You smirked and tilted your head slightly from its place on the pillows, as if to give him a physical example of just how content you are. He gripped your neck in one hand, the other holding himself up on the bed next to your shoulder while he leaned over you.

“That may be true, but even as a pillow princess I can tell you’d do just about anything for some praise.” You felt your cheeks heat up at that. There’s no way you’re this easy to read…?

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wasn’t loved enough by my daddy and now I’ll do anything a man asks in bed? Is that it?” You said sarcastically.

“No I don’t think it’s that.” Mitch tilted his head, studying you. “I think, being a female assassin, you rarely get the recognition and praise that you deserve. So you crave it in other forms.” You swallowed, your neck moving under his palm.

“What is this, a fucking therapy session?” You spat, growing uncomfortable under his gaze.

“No.” He smirked. “I’m just having some fun by getting under your skin.”

“Or are you just stalling cause you’ve never been with a woman before?” You flashed an innocent smile as his hand tightened on your neck. “Or is it that you can’t get it up? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mitch. Impotence isn’t uncommon.” You feigned seriousness, almost laughing at his expression.

Eventually though, he just chuckled darkly and your stomach dropped a little. He grabbed your ripped underwear and shoved it in your mouth. You looked at him with wide eyes, but before you could do anything, his hand was leaving your neck and sliding down your stomach. He reached your leg and traced over your hip bone, not going down any farther. You tried to spread your legs under him but you barely moved.

Mitch leaned up then settled between your legs on his knees. He grabbed your hips roughly and dragged his nails down your thighs, touching you just about everywhere except where you actually wanted him to.

You whined, squirming and opening your legs wider. Finally, his fingers ghosted over your clit, making you instantly buck your hips into his hand. To retaliate, he slapped your clit, hard, and shot you a warning look. You choked on a gasp at the sting but it faded quickly.

His fingers lightly dragged down your clit to your folds, then back up to start again. You were just about to rip the underwear from your mouth and tell him to hurry up when a finger entered you. You let out a muffled moan and closed your eyes, tilting your head back. He curled his finger inside you over and over again until you were bucking your hips against his hand. He inserted another finger and you let out another relieved moan.

This continued for a few minutes until you felt yourself nearing the edge. His palm pressed down against your clit, adding even more stimulation. Your hips were rocking against his hand and your eyes closed as you were about to come. He pulled his hand away suddenly, making you whine loudly.

“Ready for some torture?” Mitch smirked and you pouted around the makeshift gag. His fingers entered you, picking up where they left off. You fisted the sheets in both hands and arched your back slightly as you got close again. He stopped and you cried out as you came down from the edge for a second time.

“You gonna answer me now?” He looked at you with a dark glint in his eyes. He wasn’t really asking since he didn’t remove the gag to let you speak. “That’s fine. I have all night.” He curled his fingers inside of you and picked up the speed, making you release a muffled moan. He edged you a few more times- after the fourth time you started losing count- and you were so desperate that you were on the verge of tears.

You tried talking around the underwear in your mouth but it just came out as incoherent, muffled sounds. He removed it and you didn’t waste a second before begging.

“Please- I want…” You cut off with a sharp inhale when a third finger entered you, “I want to come. Please make me come.” He was silent for a moment and then he removed his fingers, sucking your arousal off of them quickly.

“How about this?” He picked up your gun and took out the bullets, leaving one in, and then spun the cylinder. “I’m going to shoot this four times,” he leaned over on his elbow, aiming the gun at your temple, “and if you’re still alive by the end of it, then you can come.” You choked on a gasp and his fingers brushed your entrance again.

“If you’re not alive by the end of it…” He leaned down so his nose almost brushed yours, “Well, I’m still going to fuck you.” He whispered with a dark look in his eyes that made you shiver. He inserted his fingers again and you whimpered at the intrusion.

“Ready?” He smirked, cocking the gun. You shook your head and furrowed your brows.

“N-no, I don’t-“ You flinched when he pulled the trigger, the click deafening right next to your ear because of the sudden fear you got hit with. You shuddered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“One.” He rasped. You whimpered and shook your head more.

“M-Mitch, I-I don’t wanna…” You gasped out.

“Why not, baby?” He worked his fingers inside you faster now. “I thought you wanted to come?” And the thing is… you do. You want to come so fucking badly. The gun aimed at your head is only adding to the growing knot of arousal in your stomach. But you watched him load the gun. And you have every reason to believe that he truly doesn’t care whether he fucks you before or after he kills you. While the thought makes you clench around his fingers, you’d rather be alive for that.

“Just three more, princess. I know you can take it. You wanna come right?” The saccharinity in his voice was quickly taking down all of your defenses. You nodded hesitantly, still shaking out of fear and arousal. He pulled the trigger again, the sound making you release a choked sob.

“Two more.” You felt tears welling in your eyes quickly. You’ve dabbled with fear play as a kink in the past, but it was never anything like this. He inserted a fourth finger and you whimpered at the stretch, but didn’t tell him to stop.

“You deserve this, princess.” His fingers contrasted the gentleness in his tone. “Maybe I should just fire all six rounds.” You moaned through a cry, feeling too overwhelmed emotionally and physically. “Cause we both know your holes are all you’re good for. At least when you’re dead you won’t be able to talk.” He fired the third shot and you felt the tears start to fall.

“Poor thing. Are you scared?” He cooed softly and you nodded with a whimper. “Little girls like you shouldn’t be carrying weapons around. It makes it too easy for just anyone to turn the tables and have you at the other end.” The way he reprimanded you was infantilizing. And you hated the fact that you don’t hate it…

“I-I’m sorry.” You whimpered, not sure what else to say.

“You’re so fucking pathetic. Look at you, humping my hand.” You didn’t even realize you were doing that. “Even with a gun to your head you’re still only thinking with your cunt. That’s why you’re a shitty assassin.” He whispered the last part bitterly.

“Dumb little whores like you aren’t cut out for this, you know why? Because you’d rather fuck your target than finish the assignment.” He ground the palm of his hand down hard on your clit, making you moan. “Say it, princess. Say ‘I’m a dumb whore who only thinks with my cunt.’” You whined loudly in protest, but he pressed the gun hard into your temple, reminding you of your position right now.

“I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, “I’m a…” You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Open your eyes, baby. Open your eyes and look at me.” You complied. “There you go. Now keep looking at me and say it. Don’t make me tell you again or one more shot will turn into two.”

“I’m a- a dumb whore who only thinks with my- with my cunt.” You whispered and Mitch looked satisfied.

“You ready to come?” You whimpered and nodded eagerly, thinking he’d let you come before firing the last shot. “Then just one more, baby.” Your stomach dropped and you felt the fear come back, full force. The coil in your stomach was about as tight as it could get and you tried to come before he could have a chance to fire another round, but your body would not obey you.

“Ready?” You choked on a sob and shook your head. “Oh come on, don’t be such a little bitch about it. Do you want to come or not?”

“Yes!” You cried.

“Then beg.” He said and you paused.

“W-what?”

“Beg me to shoot you so you can finally come, humping my hand like a fucking bitch in heat.” He growled, his fingers somehow going faster. You stared at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Go on, baby.”

“Please…” You mumbled.

“Remember what I said would happen if I had to tell you again?” You swallowed, giving him a small nod.

“Please s-shoot me…” You whimpered, eyeing the gun. He raised his eyebrows so you continued, “so you can finally make me come.”

“Good girl.” He smirked, grinding his palm harder against your clit, bringing you impossibly closer to the edge. He fired the gun and you froze, then let out a heavy breath.

“Can- can I come now please?” You all but sobbed in relief.

“Go ahead, princess. Keep humping my hand just like that… good girl. Grind on it, baby. Make yourself cum.” He set the gun on the bed then wrapped his hand around your throat, pressing on the sides hard enough to make you light headed. You gripped his bicep and squeezed your eyes shut. Finally the knot inside you snapped and your back arched as your head tilted back, pushing your throat into his hand. Your other hand reached up to grab the wrist of the hand on your neck. You didn’t try to pull him away, you just needed something to ground yourself.

As you came down from your orgasm, your body sagged into the bed. Your eyes were closed as you panted, trying to catch your breath. He pulled his fingers from you then took his ring and pinky fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste. He placed his pointer and middle fingers in your already open mouth and you moaned, leaning forward to take them deeper.

“Who do you work for?” He asked softly, removing his fingers and using his other hand to cup your cheek. The tenderness of his touch and his voice distracted you from the weight of the question.

“Piece of shit.” You mumbled sleepily, leaning into his hand. “Hate him.” You sighed and closed your eyes that were growing heavier the longer you tried to keep them open.

“Why does he want me dead?” He brushed his thumb against your cheek, his other hand moving some hair behind your ear.

“You’re being so sweet. Dunno why anyone would want that.” You pouted, opening your eyes to look at him. He gave you a soft smile, but his eyes showed his confusion. “I didn’t wanna kill you. Dunno why… just had a feeling I guess.” You returned his smile then closed your eyes again.

“I’m not done with you yet, princess. Don’t go falling asleep on me now.” He chuckled, his breath fanning against your lips. “Remember what I said? I’m fucking you whether you’re alive or not.”

“Alive doesn’t mean conscious.” You smiled mischievously, not opening your eyes.

“Alright then. If you don’t want to be conscious when I fuck your face and then your cunt, then by all means. Go ahead and sleep. Makes no difference to me.” You could practically hear his smirk, and yet… you still took the bait. You opened your eyes and glared at him.

“Fine. I guess I’ll be conscious.” You huffed dramatically, rolling your eyes. You did your best to suppress a giggle.

“I’m honored.” His faux seriousness is what made you break out into a fit of laughter. He didn’t really laugh with you, but he smiled so you counted that as a win.

“Alright get it over with.” You settled into your spot on the bed and opened your mouth with a glint in your eyes.

“You’re such a pillow princess.” He muttered, shaking his head with an amused smile.

“Hey! Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. I’m proud to be a pillow princess.” You grinned and he just scoffed.

“Yeah, okay.” He laid down on the spot next to you, one hand resting on his stomach and the other behind his head. “Sorry, princess but you’re gonna have to do some of the work. I’ve been on top the whole time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… you want to bottom? I mean I’m down for that but I don’t think we have the right materials, unless you’re hiding a strap somewhere.” You smirked, sitting up.

“Cute. Remember what happened last time you didn’t watch your mouth?” You flushed at the memory.

“How are you gonna fuck my face if you gag me with my underwear again?”

“I’m really starting to reconsider accepting your decision to stay conscious.” You gaped at him.

“You wound me, Mitch.” You put a hand over your heart dramatically.

“I’m going to wound you if you don’t hurry up.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You know, you telling me to hurry up makes me want to do the opposite.” You crossed your arms and he huffed.

“You’re a brat too. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah actually. It usually goes hand in hand with the whole pillow princess thing.” You condescended him and he raised his eyebrows.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes then looked up at you through his lashes. “Please suck my cock, baby. You wanna make me feel good right? Wanna prove that you really are a good girl? Cause I’m aching for you, princess. I know you can make me feel so fucking good.” He all but whined and you faltered. That was not what you were expecting at all. You figured you’d get another sarcastic reply, not- not that. You settled between his legs on your knees.

“I want to state for the record that I am doing this because I want to, not because you told me to.” You started unbuttoning his pants and you glanced up when he didn’t reply. He had a satisfied smirk on his stupid, pretty face. You just glared at him and kept working on taking his pants off. When you removed his black briefs you were mesmerized as his cock slapped against his stomach, big and red and did you mention he was big??

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I would but you threw my phone somewhere so…” You reached out to touch him but he grabbed your wrist.

“Take them off all the way.” You huffed but did what he said then reached for him again, he didn’t stop you this time. It looked even bigger in your hand and you could see the vein on the bottom and the precum surfacing at the tip. You leaned down and licked the clear bead, moaning at the taste and then laying down on your stomach between his legs.

You looked up at him and god what a sight. The veins in his arm behind his head are bulging and you could see the veins in the hand resting on his stomach. His pupils were blown wide and he had a light blush on his face.

“C’mon, princess. We don’t have all night.” You ignored him and continued trailing your gaze over his body. You wanted to kiss all of the moles littering his face. Your hand reached up and you brushed your fingers down his happy trail until you reached the base of his cock. You grasped it and looked up at him before starting to move your hand.

His eyes fluttering was the only indication that he even felt anything, so you decided to do more. You put the tip in your mouth and lightly sucked and then swirled your tongue around it, your hand still pumping him. He muttered a ‘fuck’ and you wanted more.

You took him deeper into your mouth, until your lips met your hand, then went back up, still keeping your mouth on him. You looked up at him and when you met his eyes he groaned. He tangled a hand in your hair but didn’t push you yet.

“That’s it. Fuck- good girl. No hands, baby. Just your mouth.” You removed your hand and continued bobbing your head up and down his length. He started taking control, moving you further down each time. When you gagged and tried to pull back is when he lost all control.

His other hand joined your hair and he didn’t even move your head. He just held you still and bucked up into your mouth at a punishing pace. Each time he thrusted in, you were nearly all the way down, but not fully. His thrusting came to an abrupt stop when he buried his cock as far as your throat would allow.

“Fuck- Relax your throat, princess. C’mon, take me all the way in.” You did your best to relax and he pushed inside until you gagged around him and tried moving off him. His grip didn’t loosen and you clawed at his thighs, feeling your airways start to burn from lack of oxygen. When he finally let you pull back, you took a huge breath in and coughed. Mitch was stroking your hair and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Ready for more?” You glanced at his cock again and nodded, licking your lips. He eased your mouth back over him and started with slow thrusts. He moved your head up and down his length, the slow place allowing you to concentrate on breathing and not gagging.

“You’re just the perfect little fuck toy for my cock, aren’t you?” You moaned around him and he started to speed up. “Just a fleshlight for me to use however I want. Fuck- you were made for this.” He grunted. His hips started to meet your mouth every time he pushed you down.

“Fuck- take it, princess.” He groaned when you choked around him. He held you down until your lips were at the base of his cock, paying no mind to your struggling. Your hands gripped his thighs again, nails digging into the skin. Even though he was holding you flush against his hips, he was still thrusting into your mouth slightly.

Finally he released you, a trail of spit connecting your lips and his cock. One of his hands fell to his side, the other brushing the tears of your face.

“Come here.” He muttered, pulling your body up his. He kissed you slowly, nails dragging down your back, making you groan. He rolled both of you over until he was on top of you, never breaking the kiss.

“I’m gonna fuck you now.” He rasped. You nodded your head, eager for him to start. “Condom?” He took his cock in his hand, rubbing the tip against your opening and your clit.

“Don’t have one. I’m on the pill though.” You breathed, bucking your hips into him. He connected his lips to yours again, this time faster and more eager. He pressed the tip against your opening, pushing in the tiniest amount. When he finally breached your walls you gasped. Obviously you knew he was big… but it’s a whole other story when he’s actually inside you.

He slowly slid his length into you, your legs being pushed up to his hips the closer he got. When his hips were flush against yours, your chest started heaving as you tried to relax around him.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, grabbing his bicep in one hand and the sheets in the other, “oh my god. You’re so fucking big.” You gasped out. He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth in a silent moan. Mitch grabbed your thigh and pushed it up higher, the new angle making you whimper.

“Oh fuck- your little cunt is so tight around me.” He groaned, finally starting to pull back slowly. He dragged his length out of you until only the tip was inside, then snapped his hips forward quickly. The force pushed you up the bed slightly but he continued that rhythm.

“Fuck- please go faster.” You whined, dragging your nails down his back and making him groan. His thrusts sped up slightly, the sound of his hips hitting yours was resonating through the room, along with your moans. His mouth attached to your neck as he bit and sucked the skin everywhere he could reach. You put a hand in his hair and pulled on it hard. To retaliate, his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing the sides and making your head feel lighter.

Mitch kissed you again briefly, then pulled out. You whimpered at the empty feeling but he quickly grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach. He pulled you onto your knees then pressed down on your upper back, making you arch even further. His cock entered you again and you let out a loud moan at the sudden thrust. His pace picked up quickly and you fisted the sheets near your head and squeezed your eyes shut. His hand left your back to grab your hips, using the leverage to thrust harder and faster.

He landed a sharp slap on your ass and you cried out from the sudden sting. He leaned over you and brushed the hair on your face behind your ear. His thrusts never ceased as his lips brushed your ear.

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby.” He said through a moan. Your breath hitched and you felt his words add to the growing warmth in your belly. “It’s like you were made for me. Made to be my little cock sleeve.” Mitch grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, making you gasp. His other hand wrapped around your throat, pushing your head back slightly. The harshness of his thrusts coupled with the sting on your scalp and the floaty feeling from his hand on your neck was driving you closer to the edge.

No matter how much you hated your boss or your job… you couldn’t help but feel glad that you didn’t quit yet. Because this was probably the best fuck of your life. Sure, most of the other men you’ve been with couldn’t please a woman to save their life- literally and metaphorically- but there’s just something different about him. About the way that he’s rough and soft at the same time. Not just in his actions but in his words too. It’s almost like he had a fucking manual for all of your kinks and turn ons.

“Where do you want me to come?” He whispered, lips grazing your ear. And fuck- you clenched around him, making him moan lowly.

“Inside.” You whispered breathily. His grip on your neck tightened and he cursed under his breath.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” He put all his weight on the arm holding your throat, then released your hair and moved his hand down to start rubbing your clit.

“Please.” You whined, clenching down on him again.

“Such a fucking slut- wanting a stranger to come inside you.” You whimpered at that because… even though it doesn’t feel like it, he still is a stranger. “What if I knock you up, huh? I guess it won’t matter either way since, like I said, you’re not leaving here alive.” His thrusts got harder and faster and he was panting next to your head.

“Please, I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, getting closer to your release with every thrust. “I wanna live. Wanna be your cock sleeve.” Despite you being 90% sure this was all roleplay, there was still some truth to your words.

“Begging for your life and all you have to offer are your holes?” Your breath hitched and his words just added to the growing knot in your stomach. “I might consider that. But it depends… are you offering all your holes?”

“Yes!” You said through a moan. “Yes- all of them.” He chuckled darkly. “Please, I- I need to come.” You cried, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

“Go ahead, baby. Come and I’ll fill you up, okay?” He rasped, his hand rubbing your clit faster. Your body obeyed his command and you cried out when your orgasm hit. You heard him curse under his breath and felt as he fucked into you faster. You buried your face in the bed, muffling your loud moans. His hips stilled and you felt hot come paint your walls. You let out a loud whine as his hips just barely bucked against you, trying to bury himself deeper.

After both of you stilling and just panting for a few seconds, you lifted your face from the bed so you could breathe better and he moved off of you so he was kneeling. Mitch slowly dragged his cock out and you clenched at the emptiness. You felt his come drip out of you, down your clit, and he groaned loudly. He rubbed the head of his cock on you, spreading his come around, and you hissed at how sensitive you were. He moved to lay beside you and you dropped down from your knees on your stomach.

“You don’t seem like the type to cuddle after sex.” You chuckled and the corners of his lips turned up.

“You’d be surprised. But we aren’t exactly cuddling right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” You smirked and he rolled his eyes before pulling you to lay partially on top of him.

“Better?” He raised his brows and you laughed quietly.

“Much.” You said, laying your head on his chest. His fingertips lightly dragged up and down your arm and you traced the moles and freckles on his chest. What now? You thought. He’s not actually going to kill you… is he? “Are you actually gonna kill me?” You mumbled against his chest.

“I don’t know…” He sighed. “No. But I can’t just let you go.” He was silent for a moment before continuing. “I think I should bring you to my superiors and let them decide what to do with you.”

“Your superiors? That doesn’t sound ominous at all.” You laughed, feeling his chest vibrate as he chuckled quietly. “What are they like mob bosses or something?” You said teasingly.

“More like a former navy seal and director of the CIA.”

“The C-“ You lifted yourself off his chest to look at him. “CIA? You work for the CIA??” Your voice rose in shock and he raised his brows, amused by your reaction.

“Oh my god- I almost killed someone from the CIA. That would’ve been so bad.” You put a hand over your mouth and stared at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t even get close to killing me.” He chuckled.

“Only because I didn’t want to. I totally could’ve killed you.” He just smirked at you but you were too hung up on the fact that your boss basically sent you on a suicide mission. If not suicide, then life in jail.

“That bastard! He sent me to kill an agent of the US government and didn’t even fucking tell me.” You seethed before calmly stating, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Don’t kill him.” He chuckled. “Actually it depends. Who is he?” You told him the name and his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“That’s the guy we’ve been after right now. We’re actually really close too.”

“Oh... What’d he do?” You asked.

“He’s a terrorist.” He deadpanned and your whole expression dropped.

“Oh shit.” You breathed. “Okay well now I definitely want to kill him.” You shrugged. “After I get paid though.”

“But you didn’t kill me.”

“That’s what’s funny about it though. It’d be even more ironic if you were the one to kill him.” Suddenly, you realized that you, an assassin, are talking to an agent of the US government about killing someone. “Are you gonna arrest me?” You asked nervously and he let out a small chuckle.

“I don’t think I can even do that… but no.” You sighed in relief. “Plus, what good is a fuck toy if it’s in jail?” He smirked and you felt your cheeks heat up.

I’M SORRY IDK HOW TO END THIS 😭💀

#mitch rapp smut #mitch rapp x reader #american assassin #russian roulette #(but sexy)

[semicolonsspace]

Dark! Bodyguard! Mitch Rapp

Warnings: Bodyguard! Mitch, Bratty reader, Diagnosis(Autism, ADHD, anxiety, and depression) Talk of Spiders, Somoniphilia, bondage, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, nicknames(little one, darling, princess, Angel, dollface)

Disclaimer: I'm autistic and this character represents me :>

Yet again, Y/n was trying to escape. She was currently on her balcony trying to climb over her railing. Mitch heard the shuffling and ran into her room searching for her. It was past her assigned bedtime. Her parents repeatedly told him that she needed to stay in her room and NOT go outside and search for Spiders.

His hands find her hips lifting her effortlessly. He walks through the doors, shuts them, and throws her on her bed, reminding her of the numerous smut books she's read. She screams with a smile on her face. Mitch loved it when she smiled like that. She looked angelic. So happy, the girl made her.

He gave her a stern look before it broke into an amused one. "It's passed your bedtime, Little One." She wanted his voice to be innocent, but it didn't sound like it to her. Maybe to others but it was just them, so, was it really innocent?

"Your spiders are sleeping, you can search tomorrow," he scolds her, his hand on his hip. "During the day," Mitch adds.

Y/n pouts and crosses her arms. She moves and sits on her bottom, her knees bent, her legs resting by her sides. "I don't have a bedtime! And my spiders are Nocturnal! I want to see the night spiders! Not the Day spiders!"

Now she was just acting childish. Spoiled even. But she couldn't just get everything she wanted. Mitch should teach her that... Even if it was very tempting to do so. Even tempting to spank her bottom for being such a brat and escaping the previous night. He was infuriated when he heard her successfully escape through the hallway bathroom window. She used that one because the bathroom in her room had no windows.

Her parents, The Hales were smart for that one. He silently thanked them in his mind when he first had a tour of their house. He also thanked him mentally for receiving all her information in a file on a given work phone. He was surprised at her background, to say the least. She had extreme PTSD when it came to being alone, the last time being when her ex-family member broke in and used her as a punching bag because he resented her. Resent her and ruining the family picture with her diagnosis. But really he did that by doing that.

Aside from that, he didn't really wasn't bothered about the other diagnosis that she had. Autism- She would sometimes become upset with certain clothing and tear them off, so he made a mental note to ask if she was comfortable with the clothing before starting the day. Anxiety- he understood and would help if he saw anything that gave him signs of it. Depression- he would make sure she's happy. Lastly, Insomnia- She had a set schedule she liked to abide to- aside from her bedtime. She despised sleeping during the night because that was when she was most vulnerable. So, he reassured her that during the night he would be in her room to keep watch. So she can sleep.

Y/n stumbles to her walk-in closet. He gets the hint so he turns around to give her privacy. Once she saw it was safe she instantly grabbed a sleep shirt which was an oversized shirt that framed her curvy hips.

Y/n thought to him scolding her. She loved it. He looked so hot, the reason why she was so bratty at times... From the constant scolding of Mitch, she still didn't hate him. She knew he was just doing his job. She thought about it logically. She would do the same if she were him.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts she sat on her bed. She shoved her legs under her sheets and sighed with contentment. She spread her legs repeatedly under the covers to feel the nice satin on her skin. She loved her satin sheets. She grabbed her laptop, placed it in her lap, and began typing away on the book she had been working on for a bit.

Mitch stalked toward her and took a peek at her screen. She situated it so he couldn't see. "Privacy! You would not like to know what I'm writing."

It only intrigued Mitch more but he left it that. He took out his phone and checked the time. "It's 11: 47..." He puts his phone into his pocket once more. "Past your bedtime- wrap it up, darling," He gestured to her laptop. She blushed hard at the new nickname and typed a bit more, probably summarizing what she wanted to happen for her future self to write. She snapped it shut and handed it to him. He gracefully took it and put it on her desk across the room and put it on charge for her.

She watched him do so, smiling to herself as he bent don't to grab the cable cord. "You have a nice bottom," Y/n whispers bluntly. Oh, but he heard her. He quickly turned and stared at her with an open mouth.

It took a second to recover. "Go to sleep, Princess," he said as his brows raised emphasizing she needed to sleep. If only she could crawl out of her covers to grab that laptop to write what she just thought of... Then he was standing in front of her, swiping a strand of hair out of her face. It fell back into her face and she blew it out of her face completely. Ironically, it looked like she was from a cartoon. His hand stays in her hair, falling to her face to cup her chin with his thumb, and then he repeats himself.

She leans into his touch, Contrary to popular belief, autistics hate physical contact but she adored it. She loved simple actions like finger-holding, arm clinging, hugging, and cuddling. Kissing freaked her out a bit but she was sure with the right person she would love it just as much.

Then he walked away like nothing happened. Like he hadn't just cupped her face so tenderly. Like he hadn't stared into her doe eyes so lovingly. Like he hadn't glanced at her lips while holding her pretty face.

Then she flips over on her bed, stripping herself from her shirt under the covers, and throws it. She didn't know where. Nor did she care. Mitch watched her and practically choked on his spit when it landed at his feet. "I guess she didn't like the texture," He thought to himself. He grabbed a book from her shelf and began reading. He became shocked when the first page was a full warning page of triggers. He quickly put it back.

"Yeah, don't grab from that shelf. It's filled with smut. Go for the other, it's more educational," She laughed as her eyes found him with a red face in her corner. He nodded and grabbed another book, a book on night crawlers. She smiled at the book choice.

Mitch stares at her sleeping form. He was in the lovesac like he had been for an hour. She's been asleep for about 20 minutes. She was now whimpering in her sleep, she normally did this. But tonight? It sounded a little needier. Her hips proved that by grinding against her body pillow she was cuddling. Her light grey sheets were lower than they were when she started to sleep. They rested on her bottom, only covering her bottom half. His eyes trailed her back, examining the scars he could make out. From what he could make out was a lightning bolt tattoo that littered her back covering joining the scars.

He stayed on the lovesac, his legs manspreading as his hands rested on his knees. He found her resting form so peaceful looking. Like she wasn't scared of anything. But he knew she wasn't that peaceful because even in her sleep she was prone to attempt to escape. She tried on his first night of being her bodyguard. He took immediate action and comforted her on the floor, holding her while she calmed down from a panic attack. Ever since that night, she was benign to him, going easy on him compared to testing him like she had done on the first day.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when she kicked the covers off of her body. Her body snuggled into the pillow, appreciating the cool air against her legs. After a few seconds, her hips wiggled against the pillow, perfectly grinding against her mound.

To him, that sight was impure. Everything he wanted to see and not see. He pulled himself up, going against his urges to not touch her body. And he doesn't. Yet.

He gulps, and covers her back up, silently wishing to himself that she wouldn't kick it back off. And she does, instantly when the sheets touched her arms. He leaned in to look at her, checking if she was awake or not. His hand touched her forehead, then cupped her face and slowly moved to her shoulder. He takes a deep breath, trying his best to control himself over his sleeping client. She looked so sexy lying there... The image of her body grinding against her pillow popped up in my mind. Replaying it over and over. Was she having a wet dream?

Before he could answer himself he was pulled down by her holding his arms. She gruntles in her sleep and tugs on his arm, he falls into her bed but he catches himself. As he falls her legs wrap around his waist, locking him in place. This is wrong. So wrong. But her body against his felt so good. He could feel her breast against his chest, her breath on his neck, her delicate hands on his waist, holding him.

He sighs giving in and wraps his arms around her curvy form. He covers the both of them up, only with the sheets not wanting her to get too warm. "There," he whispers, mostly for himself. This was not what he expected when he took this job- But, at the moment, he was not going to complain. His warm calloused hands roamed her back, his fingertips trailing the scars along her back. Gosh, he could kill that bitch that harmed his little Angel...Did he just say that? His angel? He didn't care- she was his.

She moans in her sleep, breathy and husky with sleep. Her hands tighten around his shirt, grasping it like she wanted him closer. Her hips now ground into his hips and he stilled. He stiffened, his body and his cock. He could feel the blood rushing to it, hardening under her warmth need rubbing against his dick. "Mitchie... Please," she moans, her breathy moan tickling his neck. The hair on the back of his neck raised, goosebumps littering his whole body.

He bit back a satisfied moan and looked down over her shoulder at her hips moving under the sheet. He shouldn't be allowing this. He shouldn't- He didn't care. He wanted this.

His hands fall to her hips, helping her grind against him. His pants were so tight, that every movement caused painful pleasure to strike through him. Like it was intruding every nerve of his body. His mind was blank besides the pleasure and her sinful-looking body.

His lips planted a kiss on her shoulder, testing the waters. She breathily moaned. So, he kissed again, this time on her neck. This time it emits a loud satisfied moan. So loud he thought it woke her up. But it didn't. He was glad that it didn't, he wanted to enjoy this moment more.

Her body shakes as she orgasms against him. He doesn't let her hips stop, forcing them to continue against his clothed-hardened dick. As she finishes, he holds her up by the back of her neck, slowly leaning her back to get a better view. Her mouth was open and her eyes were closed. Her breasts were perky, and resting in front of his face. He leans in, giving one a kiss, his eyes watching her face so he would know if she was about to wake up. His tongue swirls around her hardened nipple, sucking softly as his lips closed around the areolae. His hands now massaged her hip softly, still going along with her movements. He was about to cum in his pants- He hasn't done that since he was a horny teenager. That was a full generation ago.

"Oh my gosh, angel- You feel so good," He moans softly. He couldn't help but praise her, even when she was unconscious. Her body seemed to react to the praise, her hips grinding harder. That was when he realized she was awake. He stammers, attempting to explain himself. But she cuts him off as she kisses his neck, licking and sucking the heated flesh.

"Tell me later," She moans, biting the area she just kissed. He groans hard at her teeth, never expecting her to be so harsh. He loved it.

"Fuck, Princess. You're going to give me a heart attack." He could hear his heart in his head, it was thumping, racing so loud. It almost vibrated his skull.

"You should have thought about earlier," She retorted with a click of her tongue. The click was loud like it was pulled off from the suction.

Y/n palmed his dick under her hips, grabbing it and massaging his length. He doubled over, his head resting on her shoulder. His left hand rested on the small of her back. "Do you want to continue you this, Mr. Rapp?" She asks sheepily. He nods into her shoulder, his right hand stopping hers. He lifts her with ease, placing her down once he stands.

"Since all you do is write... You should write this." He swiftly removed his belt with one hand, quickly maneuvering it around her hands as makeshift handcuffs. He tugged on it, checking if it was secure around her wrist. "Not too tight?" She asks, his eyes landing on her blown-out eyes. She nods, biting her lip with a small smirk.

That smirk was wiped off when he pulled her legs to the edge of the bed. His face was right in front of her mound. "Say you don't want this and I'll stop..." He leaves a few kisses on her inner thigh, slowly trailing to her covered pussy. Once he gets close he goes to the other thigh. "I swear I will." He looks into her eyes, giving her the most mind-numbing sight of the night. "Please let me have a taste, angel," He begged. He fucking need to. He wants to taste her juices. Even tasting her after they've finished. He hasn't eaten since dinner and that was almost 7 hours ago. He's starving for some desert.

She swore her heart stopped when he asked that. This was like straight out of a book... Gosh, when did Mitch get so hot? Her bonded hands attempt to pull her panties down but he smacks her hands lightly. "Let me," He growls, then begins pulling them down with his teeth. Once they were down at her thighs his hands removed them swiftly. Then they spread her apart, the flat of his tongue taking a long slow lick at her cunt. His tongue wiggles into her folds, collecting all of her release from earlier. He groans at it, the vibrations traveling to her clit. "I'm going to need more of this, angel," He murmurs before he continues lapping against her clit. "Taste' like honey." He then rises and pulls her into their first kiss. She groans, not expecting it to be like this. She did taste sweet, his tongue played with hers before he moved back down to play with her little button.

His hands rubbed up and down her thighs, as he ate her out. Her bound hands playing with his hair. The restriction of her hands pulled her breasts together, giving him the best sight ever. He was so hard it was begging to break free, already passed dripping precum.

"Mitch, please," she tried to breathe but her lungs were moving too fast. He got the hint, knowing well enough she was about to release on his face. And she does, she squirted all over his face; The liquid dripped from his face as he continues to tongue fuck her hole as his thumb rubbed her clit. She screams, letting her pleasure take over her form. Her body shakes, her thighs closing on his head like earmuffs.

After a bit, he pulls up and hungrily kisses her. But the kiss was slow somehow, wanting her to feel everything. Wanted her to taste her release more. He didn't want this quick. He wanted to drag it out as long as possible. He wanted a book, not a flimsy page.

His hands roamed her naked body, feeling all the imperfections that were viewed as perfections. It was like she was created by the gods. Hell, she was a goddess to him. He wanted to get on his knees in all different forms when he saw her file. He immediately asked to be her bodyguard. He wanted her to be his. He wanted to take her. And now, after just a few weeks he was able to.

"I need you, angel, I need you to say you're mine." Her hands fumbled with his pants, wanting to free his member. "Say it," he growled.

"I'm yours, Mr. Rapp!" she screams. He then flips her, her ass in the air. She didn't see him when she looked over her shoulder. But he felt her. He was lapping at her pussy again. Just when she thought he was going to eat her out again, she heard shuffling. He stripped himself of his boots first, the thumb being heard when he threw it near the lovesac he sat at earlier. Then quickly removing his clothes, he left his boxers on and pressed his hips against her. His clothed dick rested perfectly between her slit. "Do you feel that," He groans as he grabs her hips and pulls them to his. "Do you feel what you do to me?"

She wiggles her hips. "It's hard not to when your cock is pressed against my minge," She made sure she sounded sarcastic with her tone, wanting to make sure she was talking back.

He gave a dark chuckle as he kicked his boxers off. "I love it when you're bratty." His body leaned, pressing against her as he unbuckled his belt. He rubs her wrists, kissing them before separating them on each side. He held her hands down on the bed as his dick pressed against her entrance. "Do you want this? Do you want my cock to stretch you out?" She nods a yes, whimpering and pushing her hips back.

When it enters, it enters completely. He slowly moved inside her, not caring that the stretch was too much for her. It felt too good. For both of them. His thrust slowly became faster, fucking her with a medium rhythm.

Y/n's moans were all over the place, screaming then needy. Once he angles his cock to hit that delectable spot she was back to screaming. "That's right, dollface; Scream for me," he growls into her ear. He then plants a small kiss under her ear, telling her she is so good for him. "S'good; Taking your bodyguard's cock so well."

His trust get harder, now his hips were slapping her clit with each thrust. Her head shakes from side to side as the pleasure is too much. She wanted more.

Her body from her previous orgasms made her so sensitive. Especially her most recent one. But yet all she wanted was more. More pleasure against her craved sensitive body.

She could do was take his dick repeatedly. Her arms were pinned with one of his hands and the other held her hip to force it down and to stop it from squirming.

"My pretty angel, so pretty," he groans. He kisses her wet cheek. Somewhere along the way she had started crying from the amount of pleasure. This didn't stop him, only turned him on even more.

"Mitch," she gasps loudly. Her back arches due to the upcoming climax and she forcefully belches her orgasm around him. He chuckled darkly and slowed down her thrust to tease her and her eyes rolled back because it felt better for her.

He could sense his release appearing soon. "You want me to cum inside?" He wanted to go inside but her knew better to do that. Y/n shakes her head in a panic. He hums I'm response and kisses her cheek to reassure her. The rubber in his stomach then lets go in his stomach as he pulls out and cums all over her stomach. Some of his elixirs landed on her tits and he just doubles over and licks it off.

"Instead of spiders I think I might want to study this," she hums appreciatively pointing to his semi-hard length. He smirks. "Come here," she purrs. He obeys and leans down. Her hand grasps his cock and starts rubbing it as he hovered over her. She teases the tip, her finger gliding back and forth over the red needy bump. From time to time her finger would play along the slit and he would shudder as he tried to keep his eyes open to stare into her alluring eyes. "Doing s'good for me," she mocks playfully. "My Mr. Rapp is so handsome," she whispers. He shudders again and nods as his dick starts to twitch in her hand. "Love my bodyguard's cock, so fucking big," she moans before he cums again. He cums with a loud primal growl as his cum close and covers hers body once more.

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien smut #dylan obrien #dylan obrien smut #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp smut #mitch rapp x reader smut #mitch rapp #american assassin #bodyguard #Bodyguard!mitch rapp

[freedomfireflies]

OML YOUR DOB IMAGINE IS *chefs kiss*. Could you do one with Mitch Rapp? I don't wanna pressure you it's your choice, but if you decide to do it can it be smut?

im a whore for him help

Truthfully, you know better. You really do.

Yet that doesn’t seem to stop you from finding your place in front of Mitch’s door that fateful Saturday night.

You know he’s in there. Heard him come back to the compound an hour or so ago. Had decided then that you wouldn’t let that night mean nothing. That you wouldn’t let what happened in the hallway be forgotten.

For days, you’ve been arguing with yourself that what he said—what he did—was merely the result of increased adrenaline and the thrill of success. That he was drunk. Drunk with power, drunk with alcohol, and drunk with the knowledge that he’d done what couldn’t be done. That’s all it was.

But no matter the excuse you create, you can’t shake the image from your head. Can’t erase the feel of his fingertips. Can’t erase the way he looked at you as you brushed the hair back from his forehead. Can’t erase the way his lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “It’s always been you.”

The next, he’d acted as if it had never happened. As if he’d forgotten.

But it did happen. And you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

With a quick breath, your knuckles rap against the door. You wait for a moment, listening intently for any telltale signs of movement.

You hear the sound of rustling. Perhaps the shift of a sheet. The creak of a mattress.

But no footsteps.

You knock again before calling, “Mitch? It’s me, can we…can we talk?”

Another sound. Deeper. You lean closer, ear pressing to the wood as you attempt to decipher. It’s his voice, you know that much, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. Maybe he’s inviting you in. Maybe he’s inviting you to leave.

You can’t really be sure and the anxious hollow in your stomach merely intensifies with each passing second.

So, with a burst of self-assurance, you straighten up, twist the handle, and thrust the door open.

Your eyes find his first. That soft, golden brown you’re so used to. Comforting, almost. Familiar.

Then, you notice his hair. The way it’s fallen across his forehead, sweaty and disheveled. The way it drapes over his eyebrows as he peers across the room at you.

You notice the slight flush in his cheeks. The heave of his chest. Notice the nakedness of his skin, your gaze traveling down his clenched jaw toward the rapid ripple of his stomach.

And then…you see.

You see his hand, tight around his cock as he pumps up and down in a swift, urgent motion. 

For a moment, you’re not quite sure what to do. What to think. You stand, frozen in the doorway, eyes wide and heart racing as you watch him.

You expect him to stop. To cover. To feel just as startled as you do. 

Yet, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t hide. Doesn’t attempt to excuse it away. Doesn’t even yell at you for coming into his room.

Instead…he groans.

And not the same groan you’re so used to hearing from him. Not a groan of exasperation or disapproval. 

A salacious groan. Lust-filled and needy. So desperate and depraved, you feel the way your stomach flips for an entirely different reason.

Now he’s not the only one flushed.

Your lips part, ready to call his name. Ask him what he’s doing. Maybe apologize for barging in.

And yet, there’s something in his expression that forces your feet to bring you further into the room. Closer to where he sits against the headboard with his legs strewn out before him.

He watches you like a hawk, following the movement as you slowly make your way to the right side of the bed.

You’re desperate to hear that sound again. Desperate to be a part of this moment. With him.

Your eyes flick down to his hand. The veins ever prominent in his arm as he squeezes the tip of his cock. As his head rolls back against the wall behind him and he sucks the air through his teeth in a hiss.

Mesmerized by the drip coating his knuckles, your fingers dance about the air as if reaching out for him.

But you slow, pulling back slightly as you look up. As you search for a sign. Permission. Encouragement.

You haven’t exchanged a single word thus far. And yet you almost know what he’d say even without him ever getting the chance to say it.

And you’re proven correct when your name is whispered from his lips like a promise, pulling you closer until you’re sitting directly next to his leg. 

Your pulse races. Skin hot as you watch him. Entranced by his beauty. By the clench of his jaw and the flutter of his lashes as the pleasure nearly overtakes him.

You’ve reached the point of no return. You don’t imagine you’ll ever forget this moment for the rest of your life. Don’t imagine you’ll ever be able to look at him again and not remember the way he looks like right now.

You don’t even realize that your legs have begun to part, your fingers subconsciously finding their way to your thighs as if desperate for your own relief.

But Mitch notices. Almost immediately. Watching the scratch of your nails along your sweatpants rather anxiously as another soft whine breaks free from his lips.

And before you really have a chance to stop yourself, your hand is slipping beneath the band of your sweats until you feel exactly how aroused you really are by this scene.

Your head drops, chin finding your chest as you take a slow, steady breath. Your touch is light. Quick. Dipping inside for only a moment until you suck in a sharp gasp. 

Mitch shifts beside you, straightening up as his rhythm begins to falter. “Shit…shit, lemme see. Please…please let me see.”

You lean back, palm finding the mattress behind you as you brace yourself and meet his eye.

However, instead of obliging to his request, you smirk, tugging your lip between your teeth as you curl your finger in once more.

Your jaw drops at the sensation. The ache. So sharp and blinding that you can’t resist the soft whimper you exhale.

Mitch’s teeth grit in response as he tugs at his cock once more, the sound clearly doing sinful things to his body and mind.

You tease him a bit more. Merely because you can. Because it’s him. And he so fucking deserves it after everything he’s done.

Your thumb finds your clit, the slightest amount of pressure enough to leave you jolting in response. Hand completely disappearing beneath your sweats as you feel yourself out, desperate for that rush.

“Fuck—” His resolve is crumbling, his motions becoming quick and focused. “Take ‘em off. Don’t make me ask you again.”

Your head shakes fervently, eyes fluttering shut as you indulge in the feel of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Suddenly, however, you feel a tight pressure around your wrist as you glance back up to see his hand, soaked and strained, tugging your arm closer.

You’re pulled forward, eyebrows flying up your forehead as you still about two inches from his face.

His breath, labored and stressed, tickles at the hairs near your cheeks as his dark stare finds yours.

“You’re gonna take them off,” he repeats lowly, and you can feel the chill run down your spine. “And then you’re gonna take me down that pretty little throat.”

You can do nothing but melt into the feel of his rough touch around your hand, so aroused from such a simple action that your brain begins to spin.

“Is that understood?” he asks now before his eyes quickly fall to your lips and you’re left to pant desperately.

You can do nothing but nod, the softest whimper slipping out once he lets go and your chest deflates.

“Good girl,” he murmurs proudly before nodding his chin at you and smirking. “Go on.”

So…

You do.

~ Other Dylan Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#dylan #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien request #dylan o'brien blurb #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x you #mitch rapp #american assassin #mitch rapp request #mitch rapp blurb #mitch rapp smut #dylan obrien #dylan obrien request

[ragweed98]

Mitch Rapp X Reader oneshot

Warnings: massive sexual tension build up??

Y/n snuck into the warehouse where Rapp was being held hostage, arms handcuffed and secured overhead, though whoever had gotten lucky enough to capture him wasn't smart enough to secure his feet so he just stood there.

Y/n, seeing he's too tall to reach comes to the conclusion that she's got to climb him to pick the handcuffs. 

"Sorry in advance for this Rapp, but I'm too short" 

"What are you--" Mitch gets cut off as you jump up and climb him as professionally as possible, locking your ankles around his waist.

As you start to pick the handcuffs ignoring the awkward angle you jokingly think to yourself that Mitch at least has to keep his hands to himself until you hear a snicker from him. Looking down, he glances up, the briefest flash of mischief crosses his face and then he lets out a small groan, his head hanging back, exposing his throat to you. You bring two fingers down to his pulse point, hand partially wrapping around his throat but his heartbeat seems normal, if not a little on the fast side. Adrenaline or biological toxin tests, you think bringing your hand back up to work the cuffs.

Still wary of your surroundings you ask Mitch if they drugged him at all, his only answer was another small moan but then his head came up and fell forward. You blushed as Rapp face planted into your chest, though you managed to hold your composer, asking him what he thought they'd drugged him with. Suddenly you felt little kisses along the tops your breasts, then a little sucking sensation causing you to slide down Mitch in surprise. He groaned at the loss of contact both above and below and you glared up at him as you hiked yourself back up his mountain of muscle to finish picking his handcuffs and extract him.

"Now is not the time" you whisper yelled at him.

"So there's a right time?" Mitch asked innocently.

"You know perfectly well this is a professional relationship and we can't do anything about anything, there!" As you took the handcuffs off one of his wrists, slipping it out of the chain to unlock the other one at ground level Rapps hands came down before you could climb off, wrapping around your thighs and slammed you into the wall nearby.

"Is this okay?" He asked, breathing heavily, digging his fingers deep into your legs like he was holding himself back from things you never even even dreamed of.

Your brain function was atruggling to remember to breath as you managed to start to answer him, "Mitch I didn't clear the area, this was a stealth mission I -" 

Soft lips cut you off and you melted into his hard body, knowing all the spots that made him tick from the countless hours of tension filled sparring together.

As you threaded your fingers into his hair, he leaned into you, released your legs to snap both handcuffs onto your wrists and fold his fingers with yours to force them over your head.

"I assume you only "needed" my help when it suited you?" You cocked an eyebrow at him for getting the second cuff off without you noticing, though you would admit you may have been unfocused and let it slip past.

"I guess so" he smirked

#smut #mitch rapp #x reader #tensions #mission #undercover #american assassin #dylan o'brian imagine #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan o'brian gifs #fighting #fight scene #stealth mission #stealth mode

[tommydarlings]

Hi would you ever consider writing for dylan obrien cause ei would love to see that

😊

Hello darling!! Well, at the moment I could MAYBE imagine myself writing for Mitch Rapp (American Assassin) but not Dylan O’Brien himself… but I could maybe imagine it in the future so let’s see! :) any thoughts about me starting to write for Mitch Rapp??

Ps: I'm coincidentally watching 'American Assassin' right now and I do definitely think that there are WAY TO LESS ff's about him 😭 at least on tumblr… LIKE THAT MOVIE IS SLEPT ON HELLOOOOOOOOO YALL GO WATCH IT RN!!☝🏻

LIKE EXCUSE ME?!-

#fanfic #fanfiction #dylan obrien #Mitch Rapp #american assassin #dylan o'brien #dylan O’Brien x reader #smut #Movie #askbox #asks #writer

[ohwowimlonley]

Omg can u do a bodyguard! Mitch Rapp moodboard? Xx

YES OF FUCKING COURSE I CAN BC I LOVE HIM AND I LOVE TORTURING @amesstilinski

#•megs smutty daydreams• #Moodboards #mitch rapp #mitch rapp x y/n #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x fem!reader #mitch rapp moodboard #american assassin #American assassin x reader #mitch rapp smut #mitch rapp fluff #mitch rapp fanfiction #dylan o'brian gifs #dylan o'brian icons #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien moodboard #dylan o'brien

[voidfxndoms]

Rewatched American Assassin... brb gonna write some smut about Mitch Rapp for your (and my) pleasure.

#mitch rapp #american assassin #dylan o'brien #writeblr #writers on tumblr #smut #why is that man so fine #bless the soul of whoever cast dylan as mitch #also his arms???? hello???? #i swear those arms ALONE deserve a full one shot smut #the things that man does to me ugh #dylan knew full well what he was doing it

[totallynotashieldagent]

Forced Proximity

Masterlist

Kids! Breakfast!! 

The pitter-patter of tiny feet and giggling laughter crowded the staircase, trying to get down first. A race that everyone would win easily because waffles and pancakes were on the table. It was Saturday morning and everyone was still in their favourite PJs. Your best friend's dad was leaving for work and his mom- She was some times sick but today she was doing okay. She was okay enough to play with you all. To give you all time and make you three laugh. And laugh you did. And it was just-

"We're here-" Hurley's gruff voice broke your soft memory, "Chin up. Stay alert. No clue what brown-nose kiss-ass they're gonna give us," He snarked 

"Yes sir," You hummed and followed closely behind

The FBI HQ building looked like a prison, in your opinion. It was just so... square and blocky. Langely at least has some character. You made a face unknowingly. Stan cleared his throat and you cleared your expression to neutral again. 

"I like working with NSA more," You said softly, "At least people meet us at the gate," That earned a small chuckle from him

"Yeah, well-" He shrugged, "It's what we got-" 

A tall man waved at you both from afar as he made a half-assed effort to jog and walk towards you.

#stan hurley #american assassin #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #aoe3fic #ao3 #reader #reader insert #fanfic #read on ao3 #cia x fbi #no beta we die like allison and then WE STAY DEAD #smut #one shot #theres a bit of darkwater horizon in their too if you squint #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi smut

[melodyrosesposts]

#dylan o brien imagine #dylan o'brien #stiles stilinski #mitch rapp #thomas the maze runner #void #void stiles #teen wolf #american assassin #the maze runner #fluff #smut #tumblr polls

[slut4thebroken]

Dylan O’Brien’s Characters Masterlist

Smut - ❤️

Fluff - ✨

Angst - 🖤

Dark content - ❗️ (noncon elements)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

main masterlist

𝑷𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅:

༺˚ʚ Stiles Stilinski ɞ˚༻

Enemies With Benefits ❤️ 🖤 ✨ (on hold)

Stalker!reader hcs pt. 1

Stalker!reader hcs pt. 2

༺˚ʚ Mitch Rapp ɞ˚༻

Russian Roulette ❤️

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔:

༺˚ʚ Void Stiles ɞ˚༻

Untitled dub con knife play one shot

#stiles stilinski x reader smut #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #mitch rapp smut #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp #american assassin #void stiles x reader #void stiles #void stiles smut #dylan obrien masterlist #smut #fluff #angst

[semicolonsspace]

Y'all YA MIGHT JUST START BARKING FOR THE SMUT IM WRITING

I'LL POST THE LINK HERE WHEN I POST IT😘

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/semicolonsspace/735640124455534592/dark-bodyguard-mitch-rapp

#dylan o'brien #mitch rapp smut #mitch rapp #american assassin #mitch rapp x reader smut #mitch rapp x reader #Bodyguard!mitch rapp #Bodyguard! Mitch rapp

[mypoisonedvine]

"𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪." | dark!jackson rippner x reader

(I'm sorry but also no I'm not because wes craven knew exactly what he was doing when he put that line in the movie... he fucking knew...)

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | after following you for weeks as part of his job, jackson got a few ideas in his head about making you his, but finding out you had a boyfriend meant he needed to change his approach.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 | just under 9k (wow what the actual fuck)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | DARK NONCON SMUT (18+ only, don't keep reading if you're not physically or emotionally mature enough to manage your own content consumption please and thank you), knife kink, stalking, forced exhibitionism, forced infidelity, humiliation, vaginal and anal sex (whoops), pain kink/painal, ass to pussy (god this fic is disgusting lmao), hair pulling, brief breeding kink/forced breeding, some angst but really it's just filth

once again, this is a dark character being dark and I don't wanna hear y'all acting brand new about it so no hate please. that said, if you do enjoy this (which I very much hope you do) please consider reblogging to support my work :) comments are especially appreciated and literally make me so so happy!!

Following you was just part of the job— and Jackson did not like his job mixing with his personal life.

The problem was, he hadn’t had much of a personal life lately.  No time for it; one or two hook-ups, women he met in bars, but that’s it.  And believe it or not, he wanted more than that.  Nobody would accuse Jackson of being sentimental— not really an attitude you can have when you organize illegal weapons sales and political assassinations— but he wasn’t made of stone.  He wanted to be able to share at least part of his life with someone… or, you know, have a nice set of legs waiting for him at home that he could get between every night.  Either, or both, would do.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that his realization that he wanted a girlfriend, or at the very least a plaything of his own, came right around the same time that he started to follow you.  He was only doing it to pick up on your habits, figure out a way to get to you so he could blackmail you into being his inside man for his next job.  It was supposed to be pretty simple: you were a museum events coordinator in charge of an upcoming lecture series which would feature a speech from a Bolivian presidential candidate who was unfortunately unfriendly to cartels.  The American government not only endorsed him, but had him under incredibly tight security.  This speaking event was going to be a rare chance to get to him in a public space without metal detectors, and Jackson was being compensated generously to ensure your museum would let a few extra attendees in the back.

But see, the Bolivian presidential election was the last thing on Jackson’s mind as he watched you through your window.  His eyes drifted all over you, mesmerized by the way you prepared yourself for your day— styling your hair in the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in your white button-up, pulling those stockings up your thighs…

He caught himself biting his lip and shook it off, straightening up in the driver’s seat of his car; he knew he should probably leave then, beat you to your work and then wander into the museum to feign interest in a few artifacts before striking up a conversation.  But he loitered a bit longer, letting himself imagine how quickly he could rip off those clothes you were so thoughtfully dressing yourself with.

Eventually, he managed to pull his attention away from you and start the car, sighing as he tried to remember his plan of attack for ‘accidentally’ meeting you later today.

~

The museum might’ve been interesting, if he wasn’t so distracted by you.  He was loitering, hands in his pockets, pretending to look at the paintings and artifacts as he waited for you to be near enough to strike up an innocuous conversation with.  Early in the day, he saw you give a tour to a couple considering the museum for a wedding location, but kept his distance— it could be a while before you were available and he didn't want you to notice him yet, or he'd have to justify having been in the museum all day by himself.

For the first time since he’d started this job, Jackson felt slightly nervous to speak to you.  It was always a big step, going from following someone to actually approaching them, but usually it didn’t give him any specific emotional reaction.  Sure, he might feel a certain amount of pressure to do this correctly lest he blow the whole thing by tipping off his target, but he never was worried something would go wrong.  This time, though, he felt his heart picking up every time he glanced at you from across the museum, closer to you than he’d ever been.  His palms were even a bit clammy when he saw you walk by and realized this was the moment he needed to strike.  God, did he really have a crush?  How pathetic… but he couldn’t worry about that now, he was about to lose his chance as you brushed by him quickly.

"Miss?" he got your attention, gently touching your shoulder through your shirt as you passed by; you seemed a little startled by the physicality, yes, but not exactly offended.

"Oh, um— can I help you?" you said.  He’d heard you speak before, on the wiretap and all, but it was a little different in person like this— and directed at him.

"I was gonna ask you about this sculpture, if you didn't mind," he explained with a gentle smile.

"Oh, well, one of our dosants would love to talk to you about our collection—" you began, starting to look for the closest staff member designated to help him, but he interrupted.

"So, you don't know anything about the stuff here?"

Your attention moved back to him and you smiled to hide your obvious defensiveness. "No, I do," you assured, "I actually am uniquely equipped to tell you about this sculpture: I studied Incan art specifically during my master's program."

He gave his best 'quietly impressed' face and nodded; he knew he could get you with that, you had kind of a know-it-all thing going on, which he happened to find annoyingly attractive.  "Alright, then tell me about it," he challenged.

"Well," you sighed, crossing your arms as you looked at the piece, "we got this one a few years ago, it's actually a ceremonial vessel— there’s the llama head and the bird on this side here, those were both animals with a lot of cultural significance…”

As you pointed out elements of the vessel, he leaned in ostensibly to look at where you were gesturing— but it was all an excuse to get close to you, warm you up to him.

“They would’ve used this to pour essentially a form of beer on the ground,” you continued, “in hopes of increasing the strength of the crops and fertility."

"Fascinating," he smiled at you, and you didn’t back away when he stood closer.  Like fish in a barrel.  "How old is it?"

"It's estimated to be about four or five hundred years old,” you explained.

"Wow," he nodded, looking at the stone carving behind the glass again.  "It's interesting to me that humans have always made art— and always been superstitious.  Though I have to be honest, if I was living before the invention of birth control I don't think I'd be praying for fertility."

You smirked a little, and he hoped he hadn't gone too far— but it was fun to look at you and know what you must be thinking about.  He could only hope that you were thinking about it with him in mind.

“Jackson, by the way,” he introduced himself, “my name’s Jackson.  It feels unfair that you’ve gotta wear the nametag and I get to be anonymous.”

You laughed a little, glancing down at the silver nametag on your blazer and then back up at him.  “Fair enough; welcome to our museum, Jackson.”

“So, wait,” he tilted his head, “forgive the late reaction here, but— if you’ve got a master’s degree of that caliber, how’d you end up as an event planner?”

“Well, believe it or not, the position does require historical knowledge,” you explained.  “I started in curation, though— just moved to events because I was too cooped up in the back offices… I like meeting new people.”

Although Jackson would never consider himself particularly empathetic, he did think he had a decent sense of people— specifically, when they were lying.  And that felt like a lie— a white lie, maybe, but still.  A lie you were telling yourself most of all, that this was what you wanted to do.  And it wasn’t that he really thought you disliked your job, moreso that his two weeks of following you did not indicate you harbored a strong desire to meet new people.  You were a total homebody: rejecting offers to go out for drinks or dinner from friends and coworkers, staying up late watching TV instead of hitting the town or something, shrinking into your room every night and staying there until it was time to go to work again.  He’d only seen you leave your house once that first weekend, and it was to pick up groceries— that’s it.  No hot date, no concerts… almost no social life at all.  Either you stayed late at the museum, or you went home.

And he also found that annoyingly attractive.  Jackson, after all, was a workaholic himself; he imagined he would go out and do fun things, if he had the time, but right now nothing sounded better than going home and cuddling up with a sweet girl like you, being lazy couch potatoes together, resting after a long day of espionage, cyberterrorism, actual terrorism, and whatever else his work day got him up to.

….Jesus, when did he get so goddamn sentimental?!

“It certainly seems like a unique job,” Jackson replied. 

“Every day’s a little different,” you agreed.

“Sounds like my job,” he snorted, “but I don’t work with other people much— I think it would be more entertaining with other people around.  Especially when they can tell me everything there is to know about Incan art.”

“Okay, I don’t know everything,” you backpedaled, not seeming to really notice the larger sentiment of his statement, “but I can certainly hold my own.  I like to think we all have something we know a little too much about, and could ramble for ages about.”

“Yeah, I hope so, or we’re just weirdos,” he chuckled.  “For me it’s probably cocktails.  I’m not an alcoholic or anything— I actually don’t drink that much, just socially, you know— but I have this thing where I can guess anybody’s favorite drink order.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but hold on, I can’t guess yours until I really get the vibes.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “yeah— vibes, sure.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, narrowing his eyes as he looked you up and down, biting his lip like he was really thinking about it.

Here was the hard part: he really hadn’t seen you go out for drinks this whole time, so he was actually going to have to guess.  Of course, the fun part of this game was not actually getting it right— if anything, it worked better when he got corrected.  All he really needed was to get you alone long enough to tell you who he really was, what he needed from you, and how he was going to motivate you to do it… but if he could actually seduce you first, that would be a hell of a bonus.

“I’m thinking something a little sweet, not too fruity though,” he thought aloud, “something classic— you have an old soul, I think.”

You seemed to be a little surprised by that analysis, but he figured that meant he was mostly right.

“Your cocktail of choice is, obviously, a sidecar,” he announced.

For a second, he thought he might have got it from the way you smiled, but then you started to laugh.  “You were on the right track,” you admitted.

“Damn,” he snapped his fingers in playful frustration.  After a pause, he realized, “you’re not gonna tell me?”

“I figured I’d give you another guess,” you explained.

“Or,” Jackson countered, “I could take you out tonight, and you could show me yourself.  Your drink order, I mean.”

Alright, that was forward, but he figured he’d been doing well so far.  Instead, though, you tensed up a bit, causing Jackson to knit his eyebrows together for a moment.  “I would, really, but, I have plans tonight… with my boyfriend,” you said.

He swallowed behind a barely-suppressed frown.  Following you for all this time and he hadn’t noticed any boyfriend; were you lying just to get him to back off?  You’d seemed so flattered before.  “Oh?” Jackson tried to get out in his most neutral voice.  “That’s great— is he taking you somewhere nice?

“Even better,” you blinked quickly, a shy smile lifting your face.  “He works here at the museum, but he’s been gone almost an entire month to pick up some artifacts from around Eastern Europe… hasn’t even been able to use a phone out there.  So he’s promised to come over and give me a first look at everything he got, and apparently he’s brought something just for me, so…”

“That’s sweet,” Jackson replied, willing his nostrils not to twitch.  “Nice to know he was thinking of you all the way over there.  I travel a lot for my work, actually, and it’s… hard to find somebody loyal these days.”

You nodded in agreement, sighing slightly.  “Yeah, it is.”

“I mean, gone for a month, no communication, no reminders of you— just out there surrounded by opportunities and nothing keeping him from them,” Jackson went on.  “That’s a lot to get through without at least one drunken encounter.”

You furrowed your brow, looking at him with a sort of grimace.  “I… I guess,” you mumbled in reply.  “I do have a lot of work to get done so I think I’ll just let you explore,” you decided.

“What if I have more questions about the pieces?” he asked.

“Try reading the little plaque underneath it,” you suggested flatly, already turning and walking away.

Jackson watched to leave for a second before scoffing to himself.  Bitch.  But it didn’t make a difference anyways: one way or another, he was going to get to you— for the sake of the job, of course.  Although this boyfriend character was certainly a spanner in the works of his secondary plan to get you in bed, Jackson had to admit that he was ultimately an advantage for his actual purpose with you: an attachment, something he could exploit to get what he wanted.  Do what I say, or he gets hurt.

Of course, he knew he should use that to make you be his inside man for that stupid lecture series— he wasn’t going to get the second half of his payoff until the cartel had their chance to make an example out of the visiting politician.  But, as a small smile crept over his face while he walked out of the museum, he realized that he could use his leverage for so much more than that.

~

The door was unlocked when you got home; beaming, you realized it meant that your boyfriend beat you here, and was likely waiting for you just around the corner.

“Babe?” you called out, shutting the door behind you and shirking your purse and blazer to set down on the wooden credenza.

And yes, he was waiting for you around the corner alright, but you gasped in shock and felt your stomach sink when you saw him.  He was bound to a chair with zipties, restrained at his wrists and ankles with tape over his mouth, looking a bit roughed up and absolutely terrified.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, running to him, but he oddly seemed to pull away from you as much as he could when you tried to break one of the ties.  “What the fuck, what’s— oh my god, are you—?” you rushed, not even knowing where to start and just focusing on freeing him.  But he just kept letting out muffled grunts and shaking his head— like he didn’t want you to keep going.  Of course, you’d been so shocked by it that you hadn’t even considered why he looked so scared, why he seemed to want you to get away from him: whoever did this was still in the house.

It seemed obvious in retrospect, but it was too late now; you screamed when someone grabbed you, but the sound was muted by a hand over your mouth.  “Shh,” a voice beside your ear soothed as a blade pressed to your neck.  “Nobody’s going to get hurt if you behave.”

Your boyfriend hung his head defeatedly, and you thought you heard the sound of him crying though it was hard to tell.

“You missed him quite a lot, didn’t you?” the man asked, and you wrinkled your brows together as you wondered how he could’ve known that he was gone for a while.  “Left you all alone here, poor thing— probably got all worked up, lonely, needy… like three nights ago, when I saw you through your bedroom window, touching yourself."

Your face burned with humiliation— not even that he saw you doing that, really, but just knowing he'd been watching you for god-knows how long.  That made you feel more violated than anything.

“Wanted to help you so bad,” he purred, “but I had to wait.  I’m not waiting anymore— you’ve got me feeling pretty fucking impatient these days.”

You kept thinking about what you could do to get him away from you— his feet were just behind yours, you could stomp on his shoe and hope it hurt enough to distract him, or maybe you could wrench your elbow back into his side— but with the knife at your throat, you were afraid that he’d be faster than you if you tried anything.  “Please just— don’t hurt me, please,” you begged, whimpering a little, not sure what else to say at a time like this.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, “you sound so sweet when you’re scared.”

It was the way he said that word: sweet.  It reminded you of before, something you’d done your best to forget about all day.  Something a little sweet, not too fruity— that weird guy at the museum, he’d said it just like that.  “Oh my god,” you breathed, “it’s— it’s you.”

“You remember my name, don’t you?” he smiled.

“Jackson,” you recalled, “you— oh my god—”

“I’m sure you’re a little relieved,” he chuckled, addressing your boyfriend with a grin as you turned your head enough to look up at his semi-familiar face.  “She was so into me when we met today at the museum,” Jackson informed him proudly.  “You wanted me to fuck you then, didn’t you, baby?”

“No I fucking di—” you began to deny with a sneer, but he quieted you with a finger over your mouth— of course, a finger from the hand still holding the knife, to remind you exactly why you should stop talking.

“Now, try anything, I might just have to hurt you— or, better yet, your shitstain boyfriend over there,” Jackson warned.  “I’m just waiting for an excuse to break a few of his fingers.  Don’t give me one.”

Swallowing, you shut your eyes for a longer moment— you couldn’t believe this was actually happening, like one of those horrific news articles you read before bed just to torture yourself.  Like one of those horror movies guys think are campy and fun but give you the most awful sick feeling because that could really happen.  And now it was really happening, and your first thought was somehow to wonder what you did wrong to let this happen.

“So, are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, tilting his head down to look at you questioningly.

You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, and he snarled with frustration.

“No, baby, say it like I said it,” he insisted, his tone a warning not to test him again.

“I’m gonna be… I’m gonna be a good girl…” you choked out.

“Whose good girl?” he taunted, and you groaned as you shut your eyes, feeling him pull you closer to him and press his face close to yours.

“Yours!  Your good girl,” you spat out, breath picking up as you heard him purr against your cheek.  “Jackson— please, you don’t… you don’t have to do this.  Please don’t do this.”

You shivered as the knife pressed against you again and moved from your neck down to your shirt, gently slicing off the top button and exposing a little more of your chest.  “Mm, but I want to,” he explained, “wanted you since I first saw you.”

You hated the realization that he likely first saw you quite some time ago, before you ever knew he existed, and that he’d been waiting for this ever since then.

“I think it turns you on, knowing I can do whatever I want to you,” he presumed, cutting off a second button from your shirt.

“Please just go,” you begged, starting to properly cry as his teeth grazed your neck.  “You’re right— you can do whatever you want.  I can’t stop you.  Isn’t that what you wanted to prove?  Just… just don’t make me—”

“Make you?” he repeated.  “No, no— you wanted me.  I could tell.  Only thing stopping you was him.”

He pointed towards your boyfriend with the knife in his hand, who looked devastated and horrified to say the least.

“You could do better, by the way,” Jackson informed you.  “You should be with somebody who can really treat you right.”

Another button fell to the floor; your bra was visible now, baby pink lace, and your nipples hardened from the cool air on your skin— that, and the way Jackson’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck.  

“Are you getting wet for me, baby?” he whispered to you as his knife trailed delicately over your skin, tracing the curve of your breasts.  “Think it’s time for me to finally give you what you need?”

You took a deep, but shaky, breath as you tried to put on a brave face and brace for what was to come.  “My… my bedroom is upstairs,” you whispered, and Jackson laughed in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Oh, eager already,” he taunted.

“I just wanna get this over with,” you insisted.

“Sure,” he said facetiously with a mischievous smirk and a wink to match; you felt like you were gonna be sick.  “But bedrooms are a little, you know… basic?  That’s probably what you’re used to, real traditional stuff: missionary, in the bed, in the dark, for a few minutes on weekends only.  That’s the vibe I’m getting, at least.  You’re not used to being with somebody romantic— you know, spontaneous.”

He turned you around to face him, making you yelp a little as he spoke by your ear.  

“Somebody who just has to have you; right here, right now,” he cooed, running his tongue along the outside of your ear before suddenly kissing roughly along your neck.

“N-no, please,” you begged, imagining the humiliation you were in store for if he really did fuck you on your living room floor in front of the man you loved.  “Please, I— I said I’ll be good for you, just— take me to my room, please.”

"No, baby,” Jackson purred as he held your chin, “let’s show your little boyfriend here what you look like when a real man fucks you, huh?"

Whining, you jerked your arms forward to try to break away, but it only ensured the bruises his fingers would leave on your skin.

A second later, you were shoved to the ground, and he was on top of you wearing a wide grin.  You could hear your boyfriend kicking and screaming in the corner, but your attention was more focused on Jackson starting to open his belt.  

"Fuck! Get the fuck off of me!" you yelped, kicking and shoving as hard as you could and finding each one more helpless than the last. "You— you fucking piece of shit!"

He smacked you across the face only to pull it back harshly by the jaw, glaring into your eyes. "Better be careful with that dirty mouth," he warned, shoving two fingers between your lips until you gagged on them. "Don't need to wash that out with soap, do we?"

As you choked, you shook your head, hoping it would be enough of an apology to get you some air.

"How about come?" he joked, making you gag for more than one reason, and he laughed at the tears that rolled down your temples.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and reached down to his fly again, letting out a small satisfied sigh as he freed himself.  You sobbed a little when you accidentally caught a glimpse of his erection in his hand; he grunted when you tried to push him off again, and responded by grabbing both your wrists and pinning them down above your head.  He hummed as he stroked himself a bit, looking down at you trapped under him.

“Thought you said you were gonna be good for me,” he recalled, chuckling when you bit your shaking lip.  “You sure you don’t need me to hurt Romeo over there, give you a little motivation?”

You shook your head.  “No— I’m sorry, I’ll do what you say.  Don’t hurt him.”

“Open your legs,” he ordered.  

Hesitantly, you lifted your legs up a bit and spread them, cringing at the happy groan you heard when your skirt started to roll up your thighs.  

“Don’t move your hands,” he warned before he let go of them, leaning back and looking down at you: spread out under him, his for the taking.

He snapped off the last few buttons of your shirt, humming when your torso was exposed further.  His hand started at your neck and ran down to grope your chest through the lacy bra; he purred, pinching your hardened nipples until you were forced to react.

Pulling it down, he took a quick breath at the sight of your bare tits— his chest rising and falling— and he set his knife aside to knead them both with a hum.  "Been thinking about these for a while…" he mumbled.  You gasped when he leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth, suckling with a wide mouth as you scrunched your nose and looked away.  Still, it made your insides pulse when he swirled his tongue around, only to pop off a second later and move to the other.  "Damn," he breathed, leaning back again to move his attention lower.

Starting at your knees, he rubbed your legs carefully, moving a little higher every time until he was gripping needily at your thighs; his own breathing was a little faster as he did it.  

You hadn't exactly imagined how this would be, obviously, but you still were surprised at how long he was taking.  Was he just trying to build up the anticipation to scare you?  Or was it for his own benefit?

He was gentle for just a few seconds before suddenly flaring his nostrils and ripping your stockings open.  Through the new hole in the fabric, he rubbed your panties and you bit down on your tongue to avoid crying any harder.  

“Fuck,” he breathed, then laughed, as he pet your cunt through the lace— they matched your bra, of course.  Your boyfriend was coming back from a long trip, you’d wanted to do something nice for him… that idea backfired completely.  “All dressed up, matching and everything… you’re too good to me, babydoll.”

You were about to correct him, make sure both of them knew that this had nothing to do with Jackson, but your open mouth only let out a gasp when Jackson pulled your panties aside to touch you.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned when he slid two fingers between your lips.  “So wet.  Fuck.  When’d you get like that, huh?  Hmm, it was the knife, wasn’t it?”

He looked over at your boyfriend and gave him a terribly smug look while he slipped a finger inside your hole.

“Women like a sense of danger,” he informed the tied man flatly.  “But… I think your girl likes it even more than most.”

You flexed on his finger, turning his attention back to you, and he licked his lips as he slipped another finger in until you winced.

“That’s too much for you already, baby?” he noticed.  “Fuck, I might break you…”

He curled the fingers inside you, clearly trying to get you warmed up for him, and you shut your eyes tight in hopes your face wouldn’t show any reaction.  There was a sense of relief when he stopped and pulled his fingers out, but it didn’t last long since the next thing he did was grab your jaw and press those fingers to your lips. 

“Ever tasted yourself before?” he asked, and you tried to turn your face away but it was useless.  “Come on, it’s good, I’ll show you.”

He licked his own fingers first, moaning in satisfaction as he did it.

“Fuck, it’s sweet,” he promised.  “Now you try it.”

This time, when he put his fingers to your mouth, you opened it and let him push them inside.  He slid them over your tongue, watching you with dark eyes.

“Suck them,” he instructed you quietly, almost a whisper, and though your cheeks burned you wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks.  “Mm, that’s it— see, you can be a good girl.  Knew you could.”

You were panting a little, for some reason, when he took his fingers away, leaving your mouth slack and wet.  He brought his hands down to his fly to finish freeing his cock, and you looked up, to the side, basically anywhere but at… that.

“Look at it,” he encouraged you, and you shook your head.  “Don’t you wanna see it before I put it inside you?”

You figured you could get him to shut up if you just did it, so you went ahead and took a glance down at his erection in his hand, only for a terrified whimper to catch in your throat.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” he grinned.  “Trying to remember the last time you had a dick this big, right?”

Trying to figure out how that’s supposed to fit.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he demanded suddenly, sitting back enough to get you room to do it.

You hesitated, and he suddenly looked angry as he grabbed your wrist and yanked you up a bit until you yelped.

“Go on!  Hands and fucking knees, did I stutter?” he ordered, louder.

You were a little sore and weak all over, and it became even more apparent when you awkwardly got up off the floor; you avoided your boyfriend’s gaze as you took the position, opting to just stare down at the rug under you instead, suddenly fascinated by every detail in hopes it could somehow distract you from this.  From the feeling of him delicately pushing your skirt up over your ass and his hands all over you, from the way he pushed your knees apart with his own and settled between them, from the sick drop in your stomach as his cock’s head rubbed over your clit and lined up to your opening.  Yes, it sure was a riveting pattern on this rug alright…

But, of course, Jackson wouldn’t let you get through this that easily. “Beg for it,” you heard his firm voice from behind you.

“Jackson, come on, I—” you choked, “I— just—”

“It’s okay, babydoll, go on…” he egged you on, as if shyness was the reason you were hesitating.

“Please…” you began, shutting your eyes tightly.  “Please fuck me.”

You tried not to react too much when he pushed inside, but it was big, and he himself let out a husky groan at the feeling as he filled you.  You managed to stay silent at first, but a little squeak came out halfway through, and it turned into a loud sigh when he was all the way inside.  “Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head back with a breathy laugh.  “Fuck, it’s tight.  Guess that’s what happens when nobody’s here to treat you right— and I don’t just mean because he was out of town.  I can tell nobody’s given you what you need in a long time…”

Before you could wonder what could possibly make him capable of telling that, he took a tight hold of your hips and began to fuck you— slower than you expected, but not quite delicate.

Shaking, you tried to keep yourself propped up on your wobbly arms as he set his pace, and tried to keep yourself quiet while he did this.  The last thing he needed was any more reasons to think you liked this.

Still, you couldn’t fight the whimper that came when he suddenly slammed himself into you, rougher than before; your thighs even quivered for a moment.  “Fuck,” you choked out, under your breath, and he hummed back at you as he sped up a little.

“Not too deep, is it?” he asked, though it didn’t seem like he was actually concerned for your well-being (obviously).  “Not used to anything this big, huh?”

You were afraid he was going to force you to answer that, but instead he surprised you by putting a hand between your shoulder blades and shoving you down; you gasped and grunted when your chest pressed to the floor, your face thankfully turned to the side against the rug— but unfortunately, it meant you were looking right at your boyfriend.  You had to shut your eyes, too ashamed that he was seeing you like this.

“There, you like that better?” he purred as he held your hips up against his, but the new angle only forced him deeper until you were choking on nothing with every thrust.  Your hands searched wildly along the floor for something to hold onto, but eventually just had to settle for gripping the rug for dear life.  “Mm, fuck, s’good— you feel so fucking good, baby…”

The compliment sent an unwilling shiver up your spine, and your back arched even deeper than he’d forced it to.  It was too much, it was all far too much, but your toes were curling inside your (ruined) pantyhose and you bit down on your lip without thinking about it.

“Oh, see how much she likes it?” Jackson grunted, apparently still addressing the captive boyfriend in the chair— you really wished he would just leave him out of this.  “Fuck, what a pretty little whore…”

Not only could he switch from sickly-sweet to rageful in a moment, but you realized that he could somehow seem to be both at once.  Still spitting out praises and insults all at one, he fucked you rougher and meaner as your moans— pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell anymore and you didn’t want to— grew louder.  He kept getting more aggressive— harder and faster, harder and faster— until you were all but screaming and you couldn’t keep your hips up anymore.  Each thrust pushed you down until you were flat against the floor, but he kept fucking you and holding the back of your neck.  One thrust seemed to go too deep suddenly, and you yelped as you reached back to try to grab his thigh out of instinct.

“Shh, shh, s’okay, baby,” he assured with a hiss.  “Fuck.”

But he kept doing it, kept fucking you deep (if a little slower) as you whined and shook under him.  “Jackson,” you heard yourself breathe, “please— I-I can’t—”

“God,” he growled, “say my name again.  That’s so hot.”

You hadn’t meant it like that, but now it was too late.  “N-no,” you tried to deny, but that didn’t last long as he grabbed you by the hair and forced your head up, laying over you enough to speak right against your ear.

“Say. My fucking. Name,” he spat.

“Jackson,” you choked out against the strain on your throat from having your neck cranked back like this.  “Jackson, f-fuck—”

He groaned and dropped your head, propping himself up so he could fuck you faster again; his gaze moved down to where his body filled yours, where each thrust made your ass bounce under torn pantyhose…

As he slowed down for a moment, panting, you wondered if maybe it was almost over— maybe it already was, but that seemed too good to be true. He was still holding you down just as hard, anyway; he put his whole weight on your arms as he turned to look at your boyfriend tied up in the chair. 

"Does she do anal?" Jackson asked him point-blank.

Your struggle renewed as you screamed angrily— but you couldn't keep it up, it fell into a helpless sob a moment later. Your boyfriend didn't give much of an answer— couldn't, really, on account of the duct tape— just kicked around against his restraints again.

Jackson shrugged as he looked down at you crying under him. "Well, you do now," he decided, pulling out and spitting into his hand.

You’d never felt so helpless, laying there on the floor while he pushed his fat tip up to your puckered hole.  “Please,” you begged for mercy, but you didn’t even have the energy to lift your head from the rug and it was all muffled and pathetic.

“It’s really not that bad,” he insisted as he started to press forward, but your whole body jumped and you let out a loud whine when his head slipped inside with a sort of pop— all that pressure giving way to a sick, stinging stretch.

“Oh my god oh my god,” you whimpered, feeling goosebumps break out all over your body from the sharp pain.  “I can’t— please, I really can’t—”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna go real slow,” he promised under his breath, moaning loudly as he pushed in a little deeper.  Laying on the floor like this, there was really nowhere for you to go, no way to run from the feeling.  “Just breathe, long slow breaths— focus on staying relaxed.”

Frustratingly, it was actually pretty good advice; it certainly didn’t make it painless, but when you shut your eyes and thought as much about breathing and as little about anything else as you could, it helped.

“See?  Just relax, babydoll,” he whispered, but relaxing could only do so much as he slid the rest of the way in and you felt like your whole body might go numb.  Your eyes rolled back, your insides (all of them, it seemed) flexed, your heart was pounding… you felt sick, and disgusting, and used.

He breathed heavy as he laid his weight on top of you, slipping an arm under you to wrap around your shoulders and neck. 

"Fuck, that's a tight fuckin' ass," he grunted, laughing a little as he glanced at your boyfriend, slowly beginning to move again. "This one's got you spoiled, huh? How'd a loser like you get your hands on a perfect fucktoy like this?"

He bit down on the shell of your ear as he picked up his pace quickly— way too quickly— and soon he was growling each time he slammed his hips against your ass.  You couldn’t even tell what noises you were making anymore…

"But you're gonna be mine now," he whispered to you. "Oh fuck, s'all gonna be mine. Gonna fill these pretty holes of yours every fuckin' day."

You dropped your head down defeatedly onto the floor, though shocks of pain were still making your fingers and toes curl while he roughly fucked your other hole.

“Yeah, fuck, you fuckin’ like it,” he snarled as he fucked you faster.  “Needy little slut.  You like getting all your holes filled, huh?”

You simply bit down on your lip, not realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"Answer me," he insisted.

"I-I don't like it," you said— quietly, because if you spoke any louder it would've been mostly unintelligible with sobs.

"Huh?" he taunted, leaning in closer.

"It hurts, Jackson," you choked, pleading.

“No?” he noticed, feigning shock with heavy sarcasm in his tone.  “Are you saying you don’t like it up the ass?”

“Please, please,” you choked out, “fuckin’ hurts— god, please, hurts—”

"You don't like it, sweetheart?" he cooed at you, cloying condescension dripping from every word as he roughly pet the hair out of your face. You whined and shook your head. "Well, I could always put it back in your cunt, would that make you feel better?"

He chuckled at your grimace of disgust.

"Is that too dirty for you?" he wondered, clicking his tongue.  "Aw, it's okay, just gonna give you what you wanted— hold still, baby."

You winced when he pulled out of your ass, only to whine as he slid back into your cunt; you hid your face, feeling how absurdly warm it had become from all this, and tried not to think about how dehumanizing what he had just done to you was.

He picked his pace right back up when he entered you, letting out a deep groan of satisfaction.  "Oh my god you're fucking dripping, is that from being fucked in your little ass?" he noticed. "Jesus Christ, wettest fucking pussy I ever had... somebody likes it dirty, hm?"

You wanted to deny it, but he wasn’t lying about your physical reaction; you were soaking, and you didn’t even know why.  It wasn’t like you found much pleasure in that experience physically, it was rather agonizing— and then there was the thought of it, of knowing you’d been used that way, and it just made you feel dizzy and weird.  Regardless, it was true… your body responded even when your mind was running in circles convincing itself there was nothing enjoyable about this.

“Such a pretty thing,” Jackson purred at you as he sped up again, shaking your whole body against the floor— that arm around your shoulders was the only thing keeping you from being pushed away, and he held you tightly like he really was worried you’d get away somehow, even though you’d stopped resisting quite a while ago.  

At least it didn’t hurt anymore— except that you were still a little sore, and he was holding you too tight and his weight made it hard to breathe, and you were probably going to get rug burn, and you felt disgusting.  But in a literal sense, it hurt less.

“Think I need to turn you over and get a good look at that pretty face,” he decided, pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back.  Maybe it was just because you knew it was only for a moment, but being empty wasn’t as much of a relief as you expected.  You were pretty much limp by this point, letting him turn you over and simply looking up at him blankly.  “Oh,” he said as he smiled proudly, “look how fucked out you look— and I’m not even done with you yet.”

Lifting your legs and pressing them against your chest, he slid back in until he was deeper than you thought possible, and you gasped and shivered helplessly.  “F-fuck, wait—“

He started to fuck into you quickly, and you nearly screamed, reaching down to try to hold his thigh or push him back or something to keep him from going so far inside you, but nothing deterred him.  For how drained you were a moment ago, the shock of this gave you renewed energy, and you hated feeling your walls bear down on him in sick, overwhelming pleasure.  “Oh god,” he moaned, “so fucking good.”

As hard as you were trying not to be loud, your efforts were lost when he reached down and roughly rubbed at your swollen clit; again, you tried to reach to stop him, holding onto his wrist and pushing his hand away with all your strength, but he bested you easily and kept going.  “Fuck!” you screamed.  “Please, please— it’s too much, I—”

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, watching proudly as your back arched and your head tilted back with a gasp.  

You hadn’t even realized you were building to an orgasm— you would’ve sworn you weren’t, before, but now you felt all sensitive and sticky, and his thumb on your clit was relentless, and the shivers that had been running all over you all evening were turning into hard, heavy jolts of— of something.  Something you’d been holding back longer than you realized.  Something you hadn’t felt in much, much longer than three weeks.

“It’s okay,” he kept encouraging you with a proud grin that turned into a growl through his teeth as he fucked you harder.  “Show him what it looks like when you’re not faking it, babydoll.  Show him who you really belong to now.”

“Please,” you cried, the word barely spoken and more just a shape you made around your cries.  If he didn’t stop now, you wouldn’t be able to, either; you were spasming uncontrollably, inside and out, it was just getting worse and worse (or better and better, depending on how you looked at it).

It felt fucking good.  You would die before you admitted it, but you didn’t have to— it was obvious.  And it was overtaking everything now, even your shame, until for one impossible moment, you were completely shameless.  You weren’t sure you had ever felt quite like that before— not just physically, but spiritually.  Shameless.  Even though all you’d felt until now was ashamed.  “Good girl,” Jackson praised you, though it was sort of lost on you as you were coming down from a high that hit you hard enough to not even feel real until it was nearly over.  

It was like time had slowed down, and then snapped back to superspeed, to hyperreality, when he finally pulled his hand away and let you have a small reprieve.  

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, oh my god," he gasped, his voice getting oddly high-pitched as he said it. "Want me to come inside, babydoll, or paint that pretty face?"

“Not… not inside,” you warned, just conscious enough to remember that.

“Mm?  Why not?” he smirked.

You were still blinking away the blurriness in your vision, panting, trying to process all that you’d just felt— so you really didn’t have any energy for stupid questions like that.  “What?” you just asked groggily.  “Why… why do you think?!”

He just laughed briefly— more like a hum— and kept going.  Of course, you should’ve known he’d do it once he realized your boyfriend didn’t; but wasn’t it enough that you and your boyfriend used condoms and Jackson had already gone past that?

“Just— just don’t,” you begged again, shut up with a firm hand over your mouth suddenly as he grunted lowly above you with each thrust.

“Fuck,” he said, a sort of warning though it wasn’t specific.  “Fuck!”

He bit his lip when it happened; you shut your eyes, not wanting to see his face all slack and flushed like that with his hair falling forward and his neck and jaw flexing.  But closing your eyes only made the feeling inside you more undeniable: the rush of warmth, the flexing against your walls as he pushed himself in as deep as he could.  You whimpered a little, though you weren’t sure it was audible to anyone but yourself, and Jackson sighed as he emptied himself into you.

He took his hand away with a deep breath, and all you did was let your mouth fall open and your eyes blink numbly— what else was there to do?

As he caught his breath, he laughed a little, very softly; he put his hands on the floor beside your head, propping himself up but letting his head hang down loosely for a second— he was still smiling.

“You’re… you’re really something else, you know that, babydoll?” he informed you.

You didn’t say anything, and he sighed again just before he pulled out— you both winced, for different reasons, and he took a moment to hold your legs open so he could look at what he’d done to you; you felt filthy and exposed like that, but you were too weak to try to stop him or even to close your legs.

“Now that’s just beautiful,” he decided in reaction to whatever he saw; you didn’t want to picture it, how stretched out and used up you must look, but you could feel his come oozing out, running down.

Some of the numbness was already wearing off, at least physically, and you were beginning to realize how purely un-ergonomic it was to get fucked on the floor.  Your back and shoulders were sore, your legs were tight when you finally got to lay them down again after being held up for so long… you tried not to imagine how long you’d be feeling the effects of this, wearing bruises and feeling knots and having to know exactly where they came from.

“Come on,” he mumbled as he lifted up your limp upper body, pulling you closer to him.  He held your face for a second, petting your cheek which was still a bit clammy with sweat.  “Kiss me,” he demanded, though he said it somewhat softly; you didn’t actually sit up and do it for him, but you let him press his lips to yours and you tried your best to half-heartedly mirror his movements as he did it.

He held your head and neck more firmly and slid his tongue into the kiss, making you whimper a little but that was the end of your protest.  You thought it was a little strange that he wanted to kiss you now, but maybe it was just a matter of claiming you in the final way since he’d pretty much covered all the others.

When he broke away, he brushed his thumb over your cheek and smiled at you sweetly.  

It’s over, you told yourself, hoping to feel more relieved.  It’s over, he’s finally done with you.  You did it.  It’s over.  But as those words repeated in your mind, you only felt emptier than ever.

“Look at your boy over there,” Jackson mumbled beside your ear, a smirk on his lips as he shook you a bit with the arm around you.  “You see it, don’t you?  He looks different now.”

You dared to glance at your captive boyfriend, who you realized you hadn’t heard muffled protests from in quite some time.  His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, but dark, too; his stare was heavy and piercing.  You suddenly felt sick.

“He looks at you different now.”

You bit down on your lip as it started to shake; you felt worse than ever with him looking at you like that.  Things hadn’t been perfect before he left— nothing’s ever perfect— but they were good, and easy, and now you felt like he hated you.  But what had you done wrong?  All you’d done was try to keep him unharmed by appeasing this awful, horrible person… 

Jackson had already been speaking quietly, but he dropped his voice down to whisper as he rubbed your shoulder.  “I don’t think he’ll look at you the same way ever again,” he posited, and you swallowed as your stomach dropped.  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you whispered under your breath.

“He’s never seen you like that before,” Jackson explained, “and he understands now that he can’t do for you what I can.”

Jackson brought his hand to his own chest as he said that, but then reached up to wipe up another tear that rolled down your cheek.  “Please,” you said, looking at your boyfriend though he wouldn’t meet your gaze, “don’t— don’t think that I— it’s not my fault!  I didn’t want this to happen!”

“Shh, you don’t have to lie anymore,” Jackson cooed at you, “we’ve all seen the truth now, it’s alright.”

You were exhausted, you were devastated, you were too overwhelmed to even feel terrified anymore; you dropped your head onto Jackson’s shoulder defeatedly.  After all you’d been through tonight, you were starting to lose track of what was real anymore.

He let you cry quietly against him for a while, petting your head, until finally breaking the silence.  “Now, the thing is, there’s actually just… one more thing I need you to do for me,” he admitted, and you started to cry harder again.

“Please— please, I did everything you asked,” you sputtered out through your tears, “you took.  Everything. From me.”

“Hold on, that’s not true,” he frowned, “you’ve still got your cuck boyfriend over there, even if he’s not quite what he used to be— you still love him, don’t you?  Can’t help that?”

“O-of course I do,” you insisted, feeling oddly guilty as you said it.

“So, you don’t want me to hurt him?” 

Even if this was the end— even if he would hold what was done to you against you, which would break your heart— you couldn’t have that on your conscience.  You shook your head.

“I didn’t think so,” Jackson nodded, “you’re too sweet for that.  I won’t hurt him, and I’ll let him go, if you promise to do what I ask you to.”

“What more… what more could you possibly want…” you breathed, shaking your head, trying not to imagine what else there was for him to do to you.

“Something a lot less fun than what I wanted before,” he smirked.  “What I need from you now is purely work-related.”

You wrinkled your brows together with a sniffle as you began to slowly compose yourself.  “Work…?”

“Let me tell you a little bit more about what I do for a living…”

#jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner dark fic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #red eye fanfic

[makethatelevenrings]

DC Masterlist

VDS = Valentine’s Day Series

Jason Todd

We Got Love (fluff, female!reader)

Stay Clean (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Just Friends (fluff, f!reader)

Sunlight (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

The Sovereign Beauty (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Of Soup and Snowstorms (fluff, gn!reader)

Two Scoops (fluff, gn!reader)

Two Scoops (and a Danish) (fluff, f!reader)

Kryptonians and French Tarts (fluff, gn!reader)

Only For You (fluff, AFAB!reader (mention of menstruation))

S(he) Walks in Beauty (smut 18+ ONLY, AFAB!reader)

Streaks (angst, gn!reader)

Laundry Day (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Date Nights Gone Wrong (fluff, m!reader)

Sweet Reader (fluff, gn!reader)

Sweet Surrender (fluff, gn!reader)

Broken Heaters (fluff, gn!reader)

Lucky (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Puzzle Pieces (angst/fluff, f!reader)

Powerful (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Story Time (fluff, gn!reader)

Secret Admirer (VDS, fluff)

Healthy Relationship (headcanons, VDS)

NSFW Headcanons (18+ ONLY, VDS)

Pegged and Babygirled (smut, 18+ ONLY, VDS))

Confessions (drabble, fluff, VDS)

Him Cooking Dinner for You (drabble, fluff, VDS)

Half-Eaten Bagels (hurt/comfort)

Dick Grayson

Movement (smut 18+ ONLY, female!reader)

Tell Me To Stay (fluff, gn!reader)

Is That So? (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Pretty Bird (smut 18+ ONLY, AFAB!reader)

Bored (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Fuck Up the Friendship (smut 18+ ONLY, AFAB!reader)

Fix Up the Friendship (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Waiting Room (angst, smut 18+ only, f!reader)

Just a Name (angst, gn!reader)

Decorating Wayne Manor (fluff, gn!reader)

First Christmas (fluff, gn!reader)

Assassin!Verse (continuation of First Christmas)

NSFW Headcanons (18+ ONLY)

Pickle Divide (drabble, fluff, VDS)

Spoiling Him (drabble, fluff, VDS)

Vacation (drabble, fluff, VDS)

Bruce Wayne

For All the Light I Shut Out (OC series)

guy.exe (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Actions, Not Words (fluff, f!reader)

Invisible (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Habits and Roadblocks (fluff, gn!reader)

Shovel Talk (fluff/humor, gn!reader)

Stress Relief (smut 18+ ONLY, gn!reader)

Chag Sameach (Jewish!Batmom)

Full (smut 18+ only, f!reader)

For Your Eyes Only (smut 18+ only, gn!reader)

Batmom Valentine’s Day (headcanon, VDS)

First Valentine’s as a Family (drabble, fluff, VDS)

On the Edge (smut, 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

Clark Kent

All-American Apple Pie Kinda Guy (smut 18+ ONLY, f!reader)

#masterlist #why is this so LONG #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #clark kent x reader

[ohwowimlonley]

congrats, Cuba Libre - baby blurbs! (send in a character + mini prompt and I’ll do a lil blurb for it (specify nsfw or sfw!))

nsfw, medplay with Mitch Rapp??

[join the party!]

“Okay princess, show me,” he tapped the inside of your thigh, rough pads of his fingers sending goosebumps over your entire body. Your legs fell open almost on instinct, exposing your bare cunt to his hungry eyes, “oh, look at that, princess.”

“What? What is it?” You peered up at him, eyes filled with innocent tears. Mitch cooed down at you, running an investigative finger through your already sopping folds.

“You’re soaking, sweet thing,” he sucked on his teeth, thumb coming up to tap on your clit, relishing in your soft whimper, “s’okay, we can fix it. Just need my help, right?”

#•megs 100• #•megs smutty daydreams• #mitch rapp fanfiction #mitch rapp smut #mitch rapp moodboard #mitch rapp x fem!reader #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x y/n #mitch rapp #american assassin #medplay #tw medplay

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to friends to lovers trope, slow burn, plot, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Synopsis: After Makarov gets away again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you with each interaction. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

You’ve always been a light sleeper, if you could even be called that. The truth was that you hardly slept at all. Bedtime was always more like cat-nap time. Light, soundless, ready to pounce at the sound of dust falling to the floor. That’s how you trained yourself and the habit stuck, even if you don’t take missions anymore. It was hard to deprogram a killing machine. 

The two years have been peaceful even if you were always on edge. Semi-retirement has been kind in only giving you the sounds of the forest trees in the wind, the gentle rush of the creek, birds singing every morning, and most importantly, no visitors. The world didn’t know that you existed and you preferred to keep it that way for as long as you could. While you did feel the phantom blood dripping down your hands every now and then to an unsettling reminiscent degree, you did like this little slice of heaven that was your off-grid cabin. It was a good place to be before you undoubtedly go to hell in the end.

You were in your bed when you heard the rustling of the forest floor just outside your window. Steps. But not the steps belonging to a fox or bear you have learned to recognize over time. These were the steps of a man. No, multiple men. The way the foot falls of a man walking is an undeniable melody you have heard thousands of times. In the dead of night, you bolted up out of bed and reached for your throwing knife and a pistol, always kept at your bedside. Like a thief in your own home, you silently followed the sounds outside along the walls until you reached the living room. They were going to come in through the front door. 

Under the cover of darkness, you readied your aim at the door. To your surprise, they were messing with the keypad that locked your house down, inputting codes with a subtle click and then beep of a correct code. No one should know the code except for two people. Laswell and yourself. 

As soon as the door revealed moonlight and a silhouette, you fired your gun. A warning shot. Grazing right past neck. The men stopped and immediately aimed their own rifles, but the one in front held his hand up in surrender. Following orders, the rifles were lowered. You were the first to speak, your voice dripping with venom. “State your purpose and maybe I won’t kill you all where you stand.”

A gentle yet deep Liverpudlian accent voiced back. “Easy now. We don’t mean harm. Laswell sent us here. Code Swan.”

“Song?” You replied, your muscles still tense, unwilling to lower your defenses until the full code was complete. It is what ensured both yours and Laswell’s safety.

“Black Death.” He replied back. You stayed in position for a few moments before finally sighing and lowering your weapon. You turned on a table lamp next to you to get a better look at the intruders. Four men stood in your doorway. One with a fishing hat, one with a mohawk, one with a baseball cap, and one with a skull mask. They were all tall, big with muscle, and seemingly not American from their patches. An interesting bunch to say the least. 

“Fucking Laswell.” You cursed Kate’s name. She should have contacted you about this. You were just about to paint the porch with her mens’ brains. You hated surprises. You often killed them before finding out the intentions. 

With a wave of your hand, you invited the men to come into your cabin. They cautiously came in, surveying the layout and now understanding what Kate meant when she said that you were “belligerent.”

You turned on the main lights and tried to get a fire going to relieve some of the autumn chill that had crept through the house. Their leader began to unload his things on the kitchen table, sighing from the weight relief. His men joined in, save for one. You could feel his eyes on you as you encouraged the fire. You didn’t even have to look back to know that he was watching your every move. 

“It’s rude to stare.” You warned curtly as you stood and turned. The man in the skull mask and balaclava didn’t avert his gaze.

His voice was rich and gruff like gaboon ebony. His Manchester accent came clear as day. “You’re half naked.”

He was referring to the large band shirt and boyshort panties that you were wearing. What did he expect from someone that thought that enemies were breaking in? You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I’m in my pajamas. Besides, a good soldier shouldn’t get distracted by any amount of nudity.”

His blue eyes narrowed at your dig. He was a good soldier. An excellent soldier actually. One of the best. But excellent, good, or bad, no one would be able to resist staring at your figure. The exposed thighs, the large neckline of the shirt hanging off your shoulder, various scars scattered across skin like an abstract painting. He’s never seen anyone like you before. 

Too bad you had a combative mouth. 

Before he could get a word in, you had walked off into the kitchen, not bothering to go get pants on. It was your home for fuck’s sake. Besides, there were more pressing matters than your clothes or lack thereof. 

You began to pull out all the food you had out of your fridge. Everything from deli meat to leftover lasagna was being laid out on the large quartz island. You weren’t going to heat anything up or make something new, but the laid out spread would be enough. You weren’t a completely heartless host. Just a bare minimum one.

Once the food was out for pickings, you headed back near the dining room, leaning against the doorframe. The boys had maps, blueprints, and laptops covering every surface of your table. Your beautiful, hand-made pine table. This was to be their new safehouse for now. Hopefully not for too long.

“Captain, it’s connecting now.” The one with the mohawk called out. The captain came right over to greet the screen.

“Laswell, can you hear us?”

“Loud and clear, John. Did everything go well?” Kate chipperly asked. You haven’t heard her voice in a long while. You almost forgot how nice her voice actually was.

“She nearly shot my fuckin’ neck off.” Mohawk-guy grumbled. 

Kate gave a light, short laugh. “Sounds like it went smoothly then. The best that it could be. She there?”

All four men looked up to you, expecting you to come over and face Laswell through the screen. However, you stayed where you were. Instead, you spoke loud enough for your friend to hear. “Kate Laswell.”

“Hex, I’m sorry that I couldn’t warn you about this beforehand. You know I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t an emergency situation.” She began to apologize and justify. It was always an apology followed by a justification. You wondered if she even ever means her apologies, but in the end, you never really cared enough. However, now it is different.

“I don’t exist, Kate. And now four new people know that I do. . .” You retorted back.

It was silent for a moment, the tension in the air thick. She was on the other side of the screen, but it felt like you were going to get into a physical fight with her anyways. “They’re trustworthy. I trust them with my life and the lives of millions upon millions. Just like I trust you. And as the only people that I trust, I need you to help them.”

“They have already taken over my home. What more do you want from me?” You clenched your jaw, trying to prepare yourself for an answer you probably wouldn’t like. Like hell were you going to play dorm mother to them and like hell you were going to just move out. The last thing you wanted was to take care of these men longer than necessary. This was already pushing that line for you.

“Athame.” She bluntly said. That was the worst answer she could have said. The confused looks the men gave each other made you grateful for a fleeting second. They didn’t understand your secret codes and languages. But they will soon.

Your jaw was clenched so hard that your teeth ached. You damn near cracked them. While your voice before was dripping with venom, it was now drowning in it. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Hex, I-”

You finally came over, nearly pushing the captain out of the way in your warpath. Through the screen, Kate could see how angry you were. Not just angry, furious. She steeled herself, ready for your onslaught of curses, stopping herself midway through her explanation. “I don’t do this shit, Kate! I work solo for a very particular fucking reason. And now you want me to work with four strange men?! Now you want me to play nice?! I’m not a fucking soldier that can just be ordered around!”

“I know! I know. . . But. . . we’re desperate. I’m desperate, Hex. Please, this is the last favor I will ever ask from you. This is an awful target we’re talking about. Someone that is better off in this world dead.”

“You mean Makarov, right? Why should I clean up your government’s fuck-up? Again, might I add.” You spat. You lived off the grid and weren’t a citizen of anywhere, but you still watched the news. You always knew what was going on in the world among other secrets. Makarov was a threat to the world, but as far as you were concerned, it wasn’t your problem. If anything, the government needed this lesson as a direct consequence of their negligence and incompetence. 

“Because Chalice.” She simply stated, knowing that her final word was a last ditch effort. Chalice was an agreement that you two had made long ago. It could only be used once in your lives, a truly desperate resort for help. If one of you uttered it, then the other would have no choice but to help, no matter the request. That was the law between your friendship, among other things. The other code words were favors, but this was the ultimate one. Life or death.

You considered punching the laptop in anger. Right at Kate’s face. You didn’t like her call for Athame or Chalice, but now you didn’t have a choice but to comply. It didn’t mean that you weren’t still furious though. “Fuck you, Kate.”

“Thank you, Hex.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to tell you more about what she needed from you, but she knew that you had to cool off first otherwise you would burst into flames. That would've made things harder for all of you. So, she nodded as a signal for dismissal which you gladly took. You retreated to your room, locking the door shut and basking in the darkness. 

You could feel the blood boil within you. It burned your insides and choked you. Grabbing your pillow, you pressed it against your face and screamed out your frustration. When that didn’t help, you punched the exposed logs of your cabin wall until your knuckles were splintered and bleeding.

~

Ghost sat on the couch, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. The rest of the meeting with Laswell was brief, wanting them to try to decompress for the next several hours. Sleep, eat, process. All in the comfort of an assassin’s home. 

Compared to your personality, the cabin was decorated warmly. Everything was cozy, earthy, and fresh. The fire crackled comfortably, the plush couch was broken in, and every wooden piece of furniture looked hand-made. Bookshelves were filled with classic books and another shelf collected various music records. The only thing that seemed out of place was the lack of real personal mementos. No pictures, no art, not even knick-knacks. The others didn’t seem to notice or care as they picked through the food left in the kitchen. But for Simon, it left him uneasy.

He recalled the briefing before they were sent to the middle of nowhere to you. Kate said that you were an old friend of hers from high school. You have been friends ever since, but you were different than most people. You were a deadly assassin unknown by the world. No records, no pictures, not even a birth certificate. You handled delicate problems with grace and grave justice. You always worked alone, you didn’t trust others, and you were deadly. Everything about you was a secret until Kate made the crucial choice to ask for your help. Hell, they didn’t even know your call sign until Kate said it over the video call. 

“You should eat, Lt. There’s a lot of options, but they’re dwindling fast.” Soap patted him on the shoulder, awakening him from deep thought. Ghost looked up at the sergeant, watching him stuff a sandwich into his mouth. It looked like all the deli meat from one packet was in between the bread. No lettuce or tomato. 

“In a bit. I’m gonna talk to Hex real quick and ask some questions.” He replied and got up from the couch. 

Soap swallowed nervously. “Kate said that she’s gonna need time to cool off. . .”

“Our new member is part of the team now. She’s gonna have to get used to us even if she wants time for herself.” He justified it with a shrug of his shoulders. Soap shook his head and walked back into the kitchen, knowing that what Simon was about to do was most likely going to be a bad idea.

Ghost walked down the hall, observing each door as he passed them. Most of them were slightly open revealing extra bedrooms, an office, and a bathroom. Only two of them remained closed, both locked with keypads. For a second, he wondered which bedroom was yours before he could hear the sound of light music behind one of them along with swearing. It made him wonder what was behind the other door that was locked down.

Deciding to let it go for now, he approached your door and knocked. “Hex, open up.”

He heard you let out a frustrated groan before the door opened up. It was only just enough to see you, the pure darkness behind you, and the blood dripping down your fists. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and quirked a brow that you couldn’t see behind the mask. It didn’t take a genius to realize what you had done. “Are you done throwing a temper tantrum?”

You scowled at him, a fire in your eyes that made Simon’s heart skip a beat which confused him. He wasn’t afraid of you, so why would his heart alter its beat for you?

“If I knew that you were just going to insult me, I would’ve shot you dead on my porch.” You bitterly snapped, moving to close the door in his face. However, Ghost stopped it from slamming and took your hand in his, observing the damage you’ve done to yourself.

Your breath caught in your throat. Electricity ran through you at his touch. When was the last time someone has touched you? You attempted to pull back, but his hand firmly gripped yours. “Hey! What the fuck? Let go of me!”

“Calm down and let me see. It hurts, doesn’t it? Stings?” 

You narrowed your eyes, but eventually nodded. It did sting and the dripping blood already stained your carpet. However, you could take care of it yourself. You didn’t need some man coming in to try to fix you. “I’ll be fine. I can tend to it myself.”

“First aid in the bathroom?” He asked, seeming to ignore your clear hint that you wanted to be alone. 

Understanding that he probably wouldn’t drop this until he saw gauze around your knuckles, you headed to the hall bathroom with a huff, opened up the cabinet, and took out the first aid kit. You then took a seat at the edge of the tub and began patching yourself up. Every now and then you looked up towards the doorway, making sure that the skull man was watching you take care of yourself. Without his help. Without anyone’s help.

Finally, your hands were wrapped and the bleeding had stopped. You held up your hands towards him. “Happy now? Will you leave me alone now?”

“Hex.” Ghost simply said as a warning. God, you were infuriating. An attitude problem was something he would normally be able to snuff out immediately. He did it all the time when training new soldiers. Not you though. New soldiers were like little candles, easily blown out of their fire with just a breath. You? You were like a raging forest fire. One that clearly had its own traumas over years of service that the world may never know. 

You didn’t like how he studied you. How his eyes trained on you were a mix between hatred, curiosity, and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. A magnetic pull that begged for you to look at him too. You also didn’t like how he was trying to treat you like one of his rookie soldiers. The only thing you wanted to do to make it all stop was to push him away. “Don’t talk to me like some new recruit straight out of school. I’ve already earned my place in the world with the amount of scars I have. So, don’t treat me like I’m under you. I won’t even let your captain talk to me like that.”

After putting the first aid back where it belonged, you attempted to leave the bathroom and retreat back to your bedroom. Yet, Ghost wasn’t giving up just yet. His hold body blocked the bathroom exit. He was tall, strong, and sturdy. It wasn’t hard for him to completely fill up the space. However, that didn’t intimidate you. You got up close, and looked straight into those icy blues. Even with the black warpaint, you could tell that his lashes were meant to be blonde. Some of the paint had flecked off revealing some true color. You wondered what the rest of his face looked like for a second. Just a second.

You stood your ground, engaging in a heated staring contest. It was like lightning crackling between the two of you. After a while though, Simon finally gave in and held his hand up like a handshake. “Lieutenant. They call me Ghost.” 

Hesitantly, you took his hand and firmly shook it, refusing to back down from a battle of wills. “Hex. That’s all you will know me by.”

Suddenly, he pulled you in closer, your chest almost touching his. On instinct, you pulled a knife from the waistband of your underwear. It was the one you took with you earlier for the showdown at the door. You held it to his neck, blade dipping in until you could feel the push back of skin. Ghost didn’t flinch or jump back at your defense. Instead, he whispered into your ear that he wanted to get close to in the first place. “As hard as you may try to fight it, you’re going to know me. And I’m going to know you.”

You bit back the shiver that went down your spine from the whisper, aching to slice his throat in retaliation. Chalice had you pinned, though. You had to avoid killing the people you are going to be working with at the very least. 

Ghost slowly backed up and headed back towards the kitchen for some food, leaving you to process what just happened. You silently walked back to your room without looking back at him, ears turning red and heart racing unnaturally. You didn’t want to give him any satisfaction by giving him any more attention. However, Simon was already somewhat satisfied. 

Yet, there was a part of him that wanted more.

Soap was eating a piece of lasagna when he walked in. Gaz and Price were quietly conversing at the other end of the island. It took a lot of food to fill up men like them. It wouldn’t take long for them to eat you out of your house and home unfortunately. 

“So, how did it go?” Soap nosely inquired. As Simon surveyed the food before picking out a tupperware full of stew, he shrugged casually.

“She almost sliced my head off.”

Soap suppressed a chuckle and did his best impersonation of Laswell. “Sounds like it went smoothly then.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #simon riley #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #ghost x f!reader