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sleepyangelkami · 3 months

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NS//FW ALPHABET .vi

☆ WORD COUNT - 5.3K

VI (ARCANE) X FEM!READER

☆ WARNINGS - smut, nsf//w themes, much much more but unfortunately i will not be typing them all out because this entire post is around sexual themes, read at your own risk ! intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

AFTERCARE, what they're like after sex vi likes to be a little rough, this is no secret to you or her. but she makes sure to change that as soon as it's over. she'll take the harness off her hips, discarding it before crawling back up to you, placing kisses on your cheek and shoulder. "you okay?" always wanting to know what's going on inside you're head. "was it okay? too rough? no?" of course she likes it rough, so do you, neither of you would have it any other way but she also wants to make sure that you can communicate your limits, even through your fucked out glossy lips. "good girl, that feel better?" she'll already be rubbing cream on the little bruises, whether it was on your hips or across your ass. she doesn't care where it hurts, all she cares is to make it better. "my pretty girl, did so well." she'll make sure to murmur as she cleans your bottom half with a cloth, trying to ignore your broken whimpers as she coos, attempting to shush you. you'll both sleep naked, skin to skin with your arms woven around her neck, hers around your waist and holding you close.

BODY PART, her favourite body part of hers and also yours it's no secret that you're obsessed with her arms, it made her a little obsessed with them too. she loves her biseps, the way they flex and most importantly, the way you stare at them, all wet-mouthed when they do. she also loves the strength in her arm to keep you pinned against the bed, stopping you from writhing under her or the way they sit at either side of your head, watching you get wide eyed at feeling a little trapped yet awfully flustered. she loves how much you love them. she adores all of you, truly every inch of your body but she'd be lying if she said she didn't love those thighs impossibly more. she loves grabbing at them, pushing your little skirts and dresses up to reveal the skin that she can push and pinch at. she adores nothing more than being inside you, head thrown back yet still, her hands are on those precious thighs, kneading and playing with the plush skin. they're like two stressballs in her hands and you can't help but writhe against her as she does so.

CUM, anything to do with cum really vi can squirt pretty easily, it just comes naturally to her. but what she loves even more than squirting is making you squirt. when you'd looked away, all shy and embarrassed after telling her you'd never been able to squirt before, she just had to take it on as a challenge. and when she was fingering you, pumping her fingers in and out as her mouth sucked on your clit, she couldn't help but grin at the spurts coming from your cunt. "atta girl." she'd coo, pulling her mouth away and pressing a slap to your pussy. "that's it, good girl." all proud of herself for being able to achieve the said impossible.

DIRTY SECRET, a dirty secret of hers vi wouldn't call herself a criminal. sure, she spent her fair share inside stillwater though she thought those circumstances were sort of unnecessary. she thought once she got out, she'd left her thief days behind her. not that she'd call it stealing, she always said she was just doing what she needed to survive. but if that were true, your white cotton panties wouldn't be hidden in her drawer or your lacy pink ones wouldn't be sitting in her back pocket. she was so discrete about it, waiting until you'd turned away or even walked away for a second before slipping them between her fingers and into the back of her pants, right in the pocket. she was good at being sly about it, after all, she'd had practice. you'd come back, looking through your laundry basket or the folded clothes on your bed, brows knit together all confused. "something wrong, cupcake?" she'd question, pretending not to be interested as her eyes studied the comic book that had been sitting on your bed or something or other. "jus' looking for something." you'd mumble distractedly, fishing through your clothes once more, you'd think you'd gone insane. but vi then turned her attention on you, feigning confusion. "what're you looking for?" she'd smirk at the way you'd flush then, turning away. "n-nothing."

EXPERIENCE, how experienced is she? does she know what she's doing? you know, most people think vi doesn't have much experience seeing as she was in prison for a couple years but i BEG TO DIFFER. you cannot tell me this girl wasn't getting around behind those bars. every lunch, every dinner, every time she got out, she was eyeing up someone knew. she didn't care whether they were desperate or played hard to get, she had no preferences when it came to that prison, not that she had a lot to work with anyway. but aside from that, she was pretty much open to just about anything. she didn't care who it was, if they were willing to give, she was willing to take. though, it was often in the most uncomfortable places in the world. in the janitors closet or some other remote area where she wouldn't get caught. times could get tough inside prison and sometimes all you needed was to blow off some steam and get that anger out which is exactly what she did. i think vi would be very experienced in that department which is why it was so different when it came to you. both in a soft bed, no pressure, no need for stress relief. it came calm to her, like she didn't have to rush unlike the people in the prison where if the quickie didn't hurry up, they'd be getting caught by enforcers. which is probably not what one would want to see as they... you know, finish?

FAVOURITE POSITION, self explanatory I think vi likes having you in missionary. there's something about her holding you close, one hand coming beneath your chin to force your head up. "look at me when you take it, 'kay baby?" her voice filled with little whimpers here and there because as much as she tried to stay strong, she couldn't help the way you made her feel. she wants you to keep eye contact all the time, forcing you to look at her whenever your eyes drift away or shut closed. when you're mumbling about being close and she can feel your cunt tightening around the strap, she can't help but grab your face roughly again. "look at me when you cum." it's not a suggestion nor question, it's an order.

GOOFY, is she humorous in the moment? does she make jokes? during sex, vi is usually serious. she's not serious in a scary way that would make you rigid but she doesn't often bring in goofiness to the situation either, unless, of course, you'd asked her to. she wouldn't mind if you'd asked her for something more lighthearted but when vi has sex, her usual instincts take over. she becomes a much more serious person, her entire mind switching to one thing, pleasuring you. the whole point was to make sure you felt good and the last thing she wanted to do was make you insecure in any way. with that being said, she might murmur a couple things with a humorous chuckle. "yeah? you like that cupcake?" when she does something slightly out of your guys' normality. but of course, she knows you like it by the way your back is arching and moans fall freely. but she can't help it but tease.

HAIR, how is she groomed? does the carpet match the drapes? i'd imagine that vi shaves pretty regularly. something about being in prison for so long and not exactly having the option to. now, she has a sense of freedom about it and seeing as she can have longer showers and such i can imagine that she'd be in there for over an hour, shaving too. it also probably makes her feel a little cleaner after being in the prison (not that it's dirty not to shave some people just find it makes them feel cleaner afterwards) but when it comes to you, she really doesn't care. she'd probably prefer you to be a little shaved but i don't think she'd care to the extreme that you'd have to be bald or anything like that. she'd just prefer you to trim, at least, otherwise, you're good! as long as it's not too much.

INTIMACY, how is she in the moment through romantic aspect? vi prefers it intimate. even if she's degrading you, perhaps she's praising you, either way, she's worshipping your body completely. being in the prison, she's had so much meaningless sex that this is so important for her, you're important to her. and having sex is one of the most vulnerable things you can do. she wants not only you to be comfortable but herself to be too. she's not big on 'fucking around and getting it over with' not anymore, at least. with you, she likes to take things slow, even if it's teasing. but don't get me wrong, you can still take things slow to a intimate level and still make sure you're covered in bruises and looking up at her with big watery eyes. she supposes it's just the aspect of caring. there's a difference between degrading some random girl in the janitors closet than degrading you, her beautiful cupcake, even if she's calling you a pathetic slut. even her praises are laced with love, strangely enough.

JACK OFF, anything to do with masturbation vi doesn't masturbate a whole bunch. she's done it many times before, of course, as everyone has but she's not the biggest fan of it. she prefers to feel someone else. before, when she was in the prison, she could have any girl she wanted at her fingertips so she didn't need to. but now that it's just you and her, she has you in her clutch almost always. but of course, as every relationship, there are times when you guys can't be together. and if she's horny then, she has no problem trailing her hand down her own pants, rubbing one out to the thought of you. even if you're not there, you're still the only thing plaguing her mind. she'll think of your whimpers and moans while trying to keep her own at bay. her head stuck in your pillow.

KINK, a kink of hers don't get me wrong, you're one hundred and ten percent vi's pillow princess, she just loves having her fingers burried inside you and her mouth on your weeping cunt. she's just not always sweet about it. vi will edge you until you can't take it anymore. she loves the way she feels you clamping around her fingers, mumbling all needily about how you're close, so so close and it's as if one more pump of her fingers could do it for you. but before you finish, her hand is leaving your body, slapping down on your pussy gently before kissing your shoulders. she loves the way you cry out for her, tears filling your eyes and she has no problem mocking you afterwards. "awh, baby, were you close?" and you'll nod, all sniffly. all you needed was the sweet relief she'd promised you beforehand and yet it was the only thing she wasn't sticking to. it felt good, definitely, amazing even but you just needed to reach the edge and she was denying you of that. "poor thing." she'll push her hand down again, pleasuring and pleasing you until you're seeing stars. and just as you're ready to cum once more, that familiar knot inside your stomach, her hands leave you again. "stop whining." she'll murmur, slapping your cunt again. "or else you won't cum at all."

LOCATION, where is her favourite place to do it vi prefers your bedroom. you have a big upcity house in piltover so the girl could live in your bed if she wanted. it was surely big enough. and with your massive house, walls so thick, she didn't have to worry about anyone hearing you both. there's a difference between you and the other girls she was with, she wanted to take her time with you, make sure you were as comfortable as she would so she could touch you in all the places that she wanted to. vi thought that being comfortable was important and for her, she didn't think she'd be so comfortable doing the things she wanted to you in a public bathroom or a friends house. she loves having you in your bed, the scent of you filling the room, everything was so unique and fit to your personality. she loves being surrounded by your sheets when you finish or having your music player in the corner of the room, one of your favourite songs a low murmur as you whimper and whine into her shoulder, trying to keep your noises down but as always, she didn't like that. "don't do that, wanna hear you." because you had the power to be as loud as you pleased seeing as you were home and comfortable.

MOTIVATION, what turns her on and gets her going vi isn't someone that would get mega turned on easily although it's seemingly always in the back of her head to try and turn you on. she's done it so much that she now does it subconsciously. she doesn't mean to talk to you in that tone at the worst possible moments but when she does, she can see it on your face what she's done. that is what gets her going. she loves when you suddenly get all flustered, a little bashful, especially in front of people. perhaps you're trying to talk to cait when she puts a hand around your waist, touching you a little too much for it to mean nothing. she loves seeing the way your cheeks heat up and you suddenly stumble on your words. she just loves putting you into your place, watching you get all subby and dumb for her so quickly. the way you'll look at her to finish your words for you, or stand a little closer, almost behind her. she loves the way you lean on her mentally, making it seem as though you were incapable of doing anything without the help of your vi. then, at least, everyone would be able to grasp the fact that you were off limits.

NO, something she wouldn't do, turn offs pick this as you please, there's no kink shaming on this blog ! 🩷

ORAL, preference in giving or receiving, skill, ect vi's a giver. and she's good at what she does. she knows this, you know this, it appears as though everyone does. and this makes her awfully confident. she loves having her strong bisep holding down your hips as she licks you out, lapping you up like a dog without any shame. she loves the sound of squelching that you both unintentionally make and she relishes in it. she watches your back arch off the bed and smirks against you, her tongue embedding itself in your hole. however, if you did want to give, she wouldn't exactly have a problem with it. she'd have you lying on your back, looking up at her through your lashes as she sits herself on your face. "look so pretty under me." she'll murmur as she gets herself off on your face, her hips rolling as you did everything in your power to make her feel good, licking and lapping at her with your little kitten licks. she was so good to you, it was only fair that you gave her the same feeling back in return.

PACE, is she fast, slow, stamina, ect vi has stamina like you've never seen before. when she has her strap embedded deep inside you, it's like she can't stop. she's rough with her hands grasping your hips and thighs, squeezing the plush as she fucks herself into you over and over. vi loves edging as we know, but the night usually ends with overstimulation. and between both that and the roughness or her hands on your body, you're so fucked out and subby by the end of it that you're practically putty in her hands. vi can go many rounds all while holding her fast pace without so much of a stutter of her hips, she can withstand much more than you can with her high stamina so if you're willing to let her, she'll use you like her little toy for as long as she pleases once you're fucked out and crying into the mattress.

QUICKIES, her opinion on them? how often? ect not the biggest fan. don't get me wrong, of course you turn vi on. sometimes, she's sitting in a restaurant with her legs folded over themselves, squeezing them together as she tries to stop thinking about it. she fails, of course. every little thing that you do, looking at her with your doe eyes, your bottom lip between your teeth, even your grabby hands at her biceps, you make her go crazy sometimes. but as badly as she wants to bend you over the bathroom counter and take you then and there, she won't. this way, she won't get to spend all her time using you, won't get to take her time when dragging your panties down your legs or edging then overstimulating you until you can't walk. but that doesn't mean she won't tease. and boy, does this girl love to tease. she'll put her hands all over your body, squeezing at your thigh or pushing them around your waist. she speaks to you in the very tone that has your face hot as rocks and whispers things in your ear. but she won't take you then and there. she'll wait, until she thinks the time is right. then, she'll make a steady exit with you in her arms, bringing you right on home. as soon as you reach home, she's making her move. and as you moan with your eyes rolled back as her hand reaches your puffy clit, she can't help but grin. "this what you wanted, hm? got you all pent up, huh? so mean." she'll mutter, ready to finally put you where she wants you.

RISK, is she game to experiment? does she take risks? usually, vi isn't one to take risks, she likes having you inside your big bedroom, everything so you as she fucks the stars out of your head. with that being said, you did still live with your parents. and sure, your walls were thick enough but sometimes, just sometimes, there may be a couple... complications. if vi is fucking you, she's not stopping. it's her rule. so, if your mother is at the door, twisting the knob and asking why your door is locked, you're trying to respond in the steadiest voice you can. "'m j-jus'- nngh- exercising, mom!" worst excuse ever but it's all you could come up with as her fingers are stuffed in your hole. "are you alright?" she'll ask hearing the noise you'd tried to keep at bay. you mentally cursed yourself. "think i-i hurt my leg, 'm fine!" she'd ask if you needed help to which you'd instant tell her no. with a strange expression, she'd walk away from your door. "such a peculiar child." or, if someone was calling you, you'd ignore it. vi though, she'd always answer her phone, no matter the situation. "yes?" her voice wil ring through the phone, despite the fact that her fingers are still pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. when the person at the other side of the phone would ask what the sound was at one of your particular whimpers, vi would smirk. "i got a dog." she'd almost laugh. "a dog?" they'd question, in confusion. "yeah, a cute little bitch." you though, were too fucked out to care.

STAMINA, how many rounds can she go for? how long does she last? like i said before, you'd never met someone with the stamina that vi had. it was truly unearthly, you thought it was slightly concerning, actually. vi threw you around like a rag dog, her big arms allowing her to do so as she fucked her strap into you, strings of curses and moans falling from her lips. it would get to the part of the night where you're just too fucked out to even say anything, babbling though you were sure they weren't even real words, the only thing you could say was one particularly short word, vi's name. it was exactly how vi wanted it, she wished for the only thing to be running through your head to be her and that pretty pink strap in your hole. vi can last long too, it's almost incredible how she can fuck at least two orgasms out of you before cumming herself. however, when she does eventually finish, she likes to make sure that you're right on the edge too so you can do it together, there's something so intimate about having her hands enveloping yours, both of you seeing nothing but white at the exact same time, your climax enveloping you.

TOYS, does she own toys? does she use them? nothing is better than coming home and having you either bouncing on her cock or laying down as she pumped it into you, getting rid of every nerve in her body. though, as much as vi adored her strap, she'd be lying if she said it were her favourite thing to use on you. vi own's a vibrator and boy does she put it to good use. she doesn't care how you take it but if that vibrator is on your clit, she's going insane. it's one of the ones with the big wand so she'll force your legs up, holding it down to your clit and cooing as your back arches. "awh, feels good, sweets?" and you'll barely be able to respond, so wrapped up in your own thoughts and pleasure as the wand vibrates against you, sending shocks through your entire body. or perhaps she's using it on you both. she's done it before where she's hovered over you, rubbing her clit against yours and just before she gets close, she decides to add a little more fun to the mix. she'll place the vibrator between you two, watching as your clit is vibrated against it, her own doing the same as she holds back her noises, her juices mixing with your own. her favourite thing about scissoring is how messy it gets so when she's given the option to put a vibrator between you two, knowing it'll only get impossibly messier, she can't not take the opportunity.

UNFAIR, how much does she like to tease? sometimes it seems as though vi knows you better than anyone else in the world, she likes to throw this around every now and then. like when your eyes flutter closed and your hole tightens against her fingers. she knows you so well, she knows that face and those strings of moans. "you close, baby?" she'll murmur against you and when you nod with a whimper, she'll take her fingers straight out of you, tongue coming down to lick the juices from it. you'll whine at the sudden loss of contact, feeling cold and empty without her long fingers to fill you up. but when she asks what's wrong, you simply can't speak, all nervous and hot. she loves this side of you and uses it to her advantage multiple times. she likes when you're shy, but she makes sure you know it won't slide with her. "what is it you want, sweetheart? gotta say it or else you won't get it." but when you're merely whining, her hand will come down to press a slap on the outer fat of your thigh. "you have words." she'll remind you while grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at her even through your glossy eyes. "use them." and when you do, you get your way as promised. as soon as you're babbling out the words about needing her fingers, her mouth, her strap, whatever it is you desire in that moment, she's pressing little kisses onto your skin. "see? wasn't so hard was it, pretty girl?"

VOLUME, how loud is she? what sounds does she make? whimpers. what? she can't help it. poor girl just wants to please you by slamming her 'cock' into your cunt over and over, repeatedly hitting exactly where you need it. but the way the base of the strap hits against her so good, she can't help the whimpers that fall from her mouth. "hmmph, cupcake, y'feel so good." she'll mumble, too fucked out to degrade you. that's when you know it's gotten her, when you know she's close. when she's too wrapped up in her own mind, dizzy and seeing stars. she's not able to get the words out to call you her filthy slut so instead, the words tumbling out of her mouth are like praises, sweet nothings even. and when she knows you're getting close too, her mouth is like a waterfall that simply refuses to stop. she'll utter and mumble things to keep herself grounded, trying to focus the attention on you and not her flaming cheeks. "so g-good f'me, angel, always so good- huuh~" trying to utter the words before being stopped with a gasp, one that shows she's just as close as you are. the spurting feeling follows soon after.

WILD CARD, random head cannon talking about herself in third person is something vi often does. whether she's alone, telling herself that everything will be fine she just has to fix it or she has you wrapped around her little finger, loving the sounds you make. your head will be looking down to her own face, sitting between your thighs, eyes trailing over the tattoo on her cheek. you'll be a whining mess, just wanting her to touch you so you can get your sweet release. her biceps will pin you down, holding you against the bed. "shh, baby, vi will make you feel good." talking about herself as if she isn't in her own body. though you have to be honest, she did hold that promise up as her head dipped further between your thighs, tongue flat against your clit and tasting you. or perhaps she has your face in the mattress, your ass up in the air as her strap fucks into you. you're whining as you squirt again and she just cant get enough of the juices flowing out of you. but you? you're mumbling and babbling incoherently about how you're making a mess. you'll be so worried about the juices falling all over your sheets and now it's getting so messy that you can't think of anything else. vi, though, to soothe your worries, merely fucks the strap so deep inside you that you can't think of anything other than her, soothing down the skin of your hips. "shh, sweetheart, vi'll clean up the mess either." reassuring you like the sweet girl she is.

X-RAY, what's going on underneath them clothes? a bright pink strap. she loves the strap as it goes with her outfits, and her hair and everything else belonging to you. she loves having you bounce on it, whining about how you can't take it anymore but vi won't let you get out that easily. she's telling you to keep going or if she can truly see the exhaustion in your eyes, her hands are finding way to your hips, bouncing you up and down so you don't have to do any of the work. the last thing she needs is her princess getting too tired before she can finish with her. you also go slightly feral over her boobs. perhaps she's laying on her side, your legs propped up with rope she's bound against your body and you're just writhing. she has the vibrator sat pretty against your puffy clit. you're whining and whimpering, not able to keep still and before you know it, your lips are on her boobs. she's trying to contain her sounds, trying to hold the vibrator upright while your tongue swirls around her nipples. you can't get enough, just needing your mouth on something and the way her boobs feel snug between your lips, your warm drool falling all over the milky skin. you just can't contain yourself as you feel yourself approaching yet another orgasm. but this time, vi's too focused on the way your lips feel against her boobs to have any power left in her to tell you not to come.

YEARNING, how high is her sex drive? sometimes, vi can't take the way you are around her. especially in public. the way you're grabbing at her or standing close yet a little behind her when interacting with other people. she just loves it so much that she's sure she could dick you down then and there. but, as said before, she lets the tension build up until you both break. but that doesn't mean she doesn't get horny quickly. my god, this girl cannot for the life of herself go through one day without feeling a wet splotch form in her boxers. then, she blames you. perhaps it was because you'd bent over once to pick something up or you had your hands behind your back and she'd imagined tying them that way. you'd always just stare up at her and ask her when she'd take accountability for merely being horny. she'd shrug her shoulders, telling you never. and you'd believe it.

ZZZ, how quickly does she fall asleep afterwards? vi just has unlimited energy, it seems. when you guys are finished, she wants to make sure that you know you're safe, at home, with her. the sheets will be slightly messy but oh well, that's a tomorrow problem. Her main goal is to make sure you're okay. she'll place the wet rag where you need it, washing you off with the energy that she still has. then, you finally find yourself in her arms, her skin hot against your skin but thankfully the cold sheets offer a little relief. vi will talk to you while she's still awake, about anything and everything. just because she knows you like falling asleep to the sound of her voice and god knows she has enough energy to keep talking. "really?" you'll babble, all tired as your eyes are screwed shut. she's telling you random facts and stories that you've probably already heard before. yet every time, you seemed more impressed. "really, baby." and she'll only stop talking when she asks if you're still listening and receives no response. she knows you're sleeping so she tries to stay as still as she can while playing with your hair strands between her fingers, smiling softly at how good you were for her. she still has energy so she'll lay awake for a while but she won't leave, fearing you'll wake up and she wont be there. she wants you to know that she will be there, always.

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tarjapearce · 7 months

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ok, sorry if this sound dumb but what if Miguel broke his arm on a mission or training or something and his kinky brain can't think of how to fight off his desire for the reader while his right hand is no longer useable? sorry words are hard. just thinking about obsessed simp Miguel and i can't even!

Need a Hand?

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

(no pun intended). NSFW, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Dirty talk, a little of sub! Miguel.

Bizarre.

There wasn't another word that described the situation before you, but a lot of different synonyms. Funny, preposterous, ridiculous.

Him, out of everyone, out of the high endurance and resilient people you've met, had broken his arm while fighting Kingpin.

Fisk had snapped his arm like a twig while trying to stop him from rebuilding the particle collisioner. Even though the big man was put behind bars on his world, Miguel had suffered the consequences of the criminal's misguided wrath.

Another lesson for the Boss, really. He might have encountered many variants and villains through the years, even gotten used to their fighting like a second nature, however he was often prone to forget that some of those variants were even more vicious than the others and that he was still human.

And this Kingpin was either narcotically enhanced or was having a bad bad day.

"Serves you right." You chided him while taking a look at his forearm, tucked in within a thick mesh of resin, allowing his skin to breath and heal properly without restricting his limb completely, something he had designed himself.

"You're not funny."

"And you're a sore loser. Anyways, I'll shall get going. This Spiderwoman needs to face the landlord for increasing my rent without telling. Stay out of trouble and rest, Miguel."

With a pat on his shoulder, a portal was open to your dimension. His eyes fixed on your disappearing form through it.

A deep exhale. His hands rubbed softly where you had touched him. Warmth still lingered for a second before disappearing.

"Heartbeat frequency and neural activity increased, should I arrange a visit to the medical bay?"

"No. Just... get the coffee machine brewing."

"Wouldn't that make it worse?"

"Lyla" He warned and Lyla rolled her holographic eyes

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get Jessica if a heart attack happens."

"That's not how caffeine works."

Lyla shrugged before disappearing out of his sight.

-----

Despite being light and doing it's work as it should, the cast was turning into a nuisance. Even the Spider doctor had told him to keep it easy. Spider people healed fast that was much true, but that didn't mean they had to be as reckless as he was being.

Holed up in his lab, trying to get a proper hold of his cock after his eyes had stumbled upon a rare and delicious gem. Footage of you removing the watch and taking a shower. Other of you getting out of your suit and laying naked on your bed as you scrolled through your phone to watch silly videos.

But the one that had put in him in the predicament he was now, replayed over and over, as if engraving it in his brain wasn't enough.

You in bed, naked, a frequent habit he supposed, dragging slow and lazy circles on your clit while watching a saved porn video.

Smooth flesh parted and toyed with, glistening by the neurological response to such imagery.

His hand stroked himself but it felt wrong and painful. His bone wasn't cooperating, and neither was he with the aftercare.

You'd probably be nagging him on how stupid he was being for being so careless and stupid. A lazy smile crept to his face. You were so annoying, pretty and clearly making a mess out of him. The pain remained in his arm but it mattered little as the strokes were heightening his senses.

But as soon as Miguel tried to increase the pace, the sharp discomfort anchored him back to reality.

"Puta madre" He growled and let his cock go, frustrated for being unable to jerk off properly. He tried with his left hand but it wasn't as coordinated and vicious like his right hand. His upper back muscles tensed before throwing a metallic jumble of things in the wall. Suit quickly trapped his cock again.

What was the use of having it free would be if he couldn't get off without feeling pain?

"Miggy Miggy, where are you?"

Shit

He punched the screen off before you ventured in his room. Just in time to not blow his cover.

"Heard something crash, what's not working properly this time?"

His eyes darted to his own hands, but yours were settled on him, red eyes followed your line of sight and it dawned on him. A little flush bloomed in your cheeks.

"Oh."

A smirk displayed on your lips. Certainly a reaction he wasn't expecting.

"Need a hand?" You giggled while he frowned at your own little joke.

"That's... That's not funny."

"I'm not mocking you, Miggy. " With every step closer you gave, he stepped two back, until his back collided with the TV he had just punched. Turning it on back to life.

The lewd moans of your video echoed behind him and your eyes widened.

"Is that..."

You gulped at the sounds. It was impossible to not recall such moans when you knew them by heart, your favorite video. Something you had fantasized a shit ton of times with Miguel, if you were honest. You pushed him out the way to see what had gotten him all worked up.

"W-Wait!"

Your eyes remained glued on the screen, watching how you played and touched yourself. Fingers spreading and toying your cunt.

"Where did you get this?" He had to snap his head your way to divert his attention from the video and pin it on you.

"You leave the... uh... channel open."

It wasn't a lie. Ever since a little mission your gizmo had been malfunctioning. And the recording had been one of them.

"Makes sense. Told you to fix it and you didn't listen."

He swallowed thickly, hoping you'd forget about it. But of course, that wasn't possible.

"Did you like it, though?"

That smirk of yours made his senses to flare up in danger. He shrugged and your brow quirked in disbelief.

"Your cock betrays you, O'Hara"

His eyes narrowed when you stepped closer, but again the chair behind him blocked his escape, he plopped on it while you sat on one of his muscular and meaty thighs. He had to improve the distribution of the place later.

"Let me help with that."

His breath hitched at your words. Eyes locked with his, visual contact sacred to him, as your hand slid down his firm torso, the suit vanishing as you reached down his groin.

Hefty cock sprung back to freedom, a pearly bead of his precum greeting you while you took a hold of his base.

"So big and pretty" You nodded. It sent shivers down your spine, the way he breathed. His generous lips parting to give you a low groan as your thumb smeared the cum on his tip.

"Yeah?" He rasped and you pumped deep.

His jaw clenched and his eyes drooped, lust blown. A fiery flush covered his cheeks. His legs instinctively spreaded more to you, giving you more access to him. We'll worked arms rested on the chair, clawing at the hardened material of it.

Your hand let him go for a moment, fingers collected a good amount of saliva, to then paint his cock with it, making the pumping motion swiftly and faster.

His mouth slacked open, his left hand coaxed your head closer, pressing your forehead against his.

His eyes never left you, just like your hand never abandoned his cock. In fact, your fist had trapped his tip and squeezed his tip, earning you a well deserved whimper.

"You like that, Miggy?"

He nodded in between breathless and deep pants. His groans increased their intensity as you moved your hands to his base. Index and thumb finger circled around him, tightening as much as they could without hurting him. A delicious hiss escaped his mouth followed by a shivering moan.

"Wished it was my pussy right now, don't you?" The pace you settled on him, had his hips slowly fucking into your hole shaped hand, your words only urging the already running rampant imagination.

"So tight and squeezing your cock, hmm?"

"Si" A hiccup as the chair trembled with your ministrations, "Ay por Dios, si"

Fingers focused on his tip again and his teeth ground together. His grip on your nape firmer, as if to prevent you from escaping

"Want to fill my pussy with your cum, Miggy?"

"E-Everyday" He croaked and you smiled above his lips, hot breath fanning over his mouth. Hands clenching and unclenching at the motions your hand provided him. His cum was a magnificent lube.

"My God, so so greedy" You cooed while smirking. You had him a babbling mess since your hand never waned, your voice was like a merciless guide, exposing his deepest desires with such ease it only added more gasoline to his scorching need.

His spine arched subtly, making his head throw back, chest heaved in erratic breaths, matching the thrumming of his heart and the unceasing waves of pleasure, set to drown him.

"Wanna ruin me, Miggy?"

"Yes." He hissed.

His body slowly melting into he chair. You could feel his thighs trembling.

"Are you close?"

His lips searched yours in a measly attempt to placate his babbling mouth, instead you took a hold of his jaw with your free hand, bringing his eyes to yours, and God, you groaned at the sight.

"Give it to me" You moaned. His brows knitting together in a deep yet pleasurable frown, mouth shaped in a messy 'a'.

"Así... Si..." He gulped a choking sob. He inched closer and closer to the fire, calling him to be consumed.

"Wanna cum?"

"No pares por favorno-" He slurred and tripped over his words as thick blobs and spurts of his cum spilled over your hand and wrist. His breath hitched to finally be released in a jagged groan while you gave him the last and deepest strokes.

"Dios..." He whimpered and held onto you, anchoring to something before his soul floated away from his body. The hot of his breath was captured between your lips, granting you a low growl as he rode his high.

Some of his cum had stained the floor. You stood and licked his cum off your fingers, relishing the tangy and salty taste.

"Let me know when you need help again, Miggy"

Before he could reach out again, you were already at the door, waving a little taunting goodbye. He'd definitely need help again.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #t writes✨#miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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pinksturniolo · 1 month

Text

Robbers - A Chris Sturniolo One Shot (AU)

Chris Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Chris Sturniolo is a part of The Disciples, one of the most notorious Portuguese gangs in Boston. For the past year and a half, you’ve witnessed him take part in the most dangerous crimes. But what happens when one day, you're forced to participate with him? You know it’s extremely toxic and goes against all your morals. Despite that, you just can’t help the way you love him, the way you would do anything for him. Even rob a gas station.

Content Warnings: smut, raw penetration, fingering, oral, themes of criminal activity and violence, mentions of shooting, guns, and blood. descriptions of gunshot wounds, gun play, drugs and drug use, smoking, use of alcohol, murder, robbery, toxic relationship

a/n: I do not condone any actions in this story or promote gun violence. I do not intend in any way shape or form to offend anyone. This is one is a little dark and has a lot of mature themes as well as a gun kink, which can be uncomfortable for people. Please only read what you can handle. <3

word count: 6,452 (!!!!) ik it's long but pls read it all, i spent a lot of time on this one.

Watch this music video before reading, just trust me: The 1975 - Robbers (Official Video) (Explicit) (youtube.com)

Fall 2025

You drop your cigarette to the ground, your sneaker snuffing out the cherry as you crush it against the wet concrete. There’s a light drizzle tonight, temperatures dipping as early September arrives in the city of Boston.

You sigh, leaning your head against the brick wall and tucking your hands into the hoodie of your pocket. What’s taking him so long?

Your boyfriend had been inside the house for 30 minutes now and it was making you nervous. Each time you went with him to these types of jobs, you were scared. You would never let him see that, but you were always worried something bad was going to happen.

Granted, he knew how to take care of himself perfectly fine, but it was the other people he was meeting up with you didn’t trust. You were constantly on edge every time you would wait for him, anxious whether he would come back to you alive.

He didn’t like the idea of you coming along with him at first, but when you convinced him it didn’t make a difference whether you stayed home and waited for him or if you came along, he eventually gave in, making you take a gun with you just in case you needed to use it.

He had taken his time to teach you how to hold and shoot it properly, making sure you wouldn’t fuck up and accidentally shoot yourself. He taught you a lot of things, like how to throw a good punch without breaking your hand, how to roll a blunt the right way, how to steal from the liquor store without getting caught.

You met Chris almost a year and a half ago now, at a mansion party one of your friends had dragged you to one night. She begged you to go, saying her friend Jonah there knew a guy, who knew a guy, that knew this one guy that had the best weed in the city.

She failed to mention this guy was a member of The Disciples. His name was Chris Sturniolo and he was known to beat up anyone who crossed him. You had heard rumors before about him, he sold a lot of drugs, and he didn’t fuck around when it came to his money.

So naturally, you were a little intimidated when you were introduced, sitting next to him on the large plush white couch. His friends sat around him, smoking and talking amongst themselves, and you noticed the looks they gave you and your friend. You definitely stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Hi, I’m Layla, my friend Jonah said you could get me some K2.” Your friend said, like she had done this a thousand times before.

“What’s up Layla. Who’s your friend?” Chris asked, looking straight to you.

You fought the urge to shrink into the couch, his piercing gaze burning into you. His long hair stuck out from his beanie, smoke filtering through his nose as he inhaled the joint he was puffing on.

“Uh, this is Y/N.” She replies, looking at you hesitantly. “She’s a little shy.”

You smiled awkwardly, the look in his eyes still making you squirm in your seat.

“You look too good to be here, mama.” he says, grabbing a baggie from his pocket, handing it to Layla. She takes it, getting the money from her pocket to give in return but he simply shakes his head. “Keep it.”

She looks shocked, looking at you again and you shrug, unsure why this drug dealer is giving you both a free pass. His eyes haven’t left you, looking you up and down without shame. You feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes but the longer you make eye contact with him, you don’t feel uncomfortable. You feel curious, like there’s a magnetic pull in between you two.

“Want a taste?” he asks, motioning with his head for you to come closer, holding out the joint for you to try.

You hesitate for a few seconds before you scoot closer to him on the couch, your thigh now brushing his. He smirks and holds the joint close to your mouth as you close the gap, leaning forward a little to wrap your lips around it, slightly touching his fingertips.

You take a small hit, inhaling the smoke into your lungs as you lean back into place, his eyes on your mouth as you exhale.

Your friend Laya feels the obvious tension that’s now in the room, watching the interaction between you two. “I’m gonna go find Jonah.” She says to you, and you simply nod, never breaking eye contact with Chris.

The loud music of the party vibrates through the room, making it hard to hear but you don’t need to exchange words to know what you both are thinking. He takes another hit, holding the smoke in his mouth as he leans even closer to you, placing a hand on your jaw, silently telling you to open your mouth. When you do, he hovers his lips over yours, blowing the smoke into your mouth and you inhale, holding it for a few seconds until you blow it out.

He then moves his head down, placing a single soft kiss on your neck, directly under your jaw and whispers in your ear, “Meet me in the bathroom.”

Needless to say, you’ve been attached to each other since that night, a whirlwind romance from the start.

Chris finally comes around the side of the house, backpack around his shoulder. You sigh in relief, and he smiles when he sees you, putting an arm around your waist as you walk next to him towards the car. “Worried about me, baby?” He teases, opening the passenger side door for you.

“Always.” You reply and he closes the door, walking around to get into the driver’s seat, throwing the bag in the back. He takes off, one hand on the steering wheel and the other rests on your thigh. You can’t help but notice something a little off about him though. He’s not very talkative like he usually is, and his hand grips the wheel a little too hard, his body tense.

“Chris, what happened in there? Why did it take so long?” You ask, looking at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. And what you see makes your stomach turn because you see an emotion across his face that you’ve never seen before.

Fear.

He licks his lips nervously, looking back to the road. He knows that you noticed. “We’ll talk once we get back to the house, okay?” he replied, giving a reassuring squeeze on your thigh.

You were only about 10 or 15 minutes away, but you had a strong feeling that something was really wrong. “Don’t bullshit me. Tell me now.” You demand. He looks at you, not liking the tone of your voice. “Please.” You add a little softer and he sighs, knowing that you wouldn’t let it go that easily.

“The deal went fine. Jason seemed to be satisfied with the profit from last month. But he wants me to do a job next weekend…” He starts, looking more nervous by the minute.

“Okay? What job?” You pry, not understanding what was wrong. Jason is Chris’s “boss” and usually gives the orders on what to do. He also supplies Chris with all the drugs he needs to sell, cutting him in on half the earnings. Which is considered generous in his line of work. As long as Chris does whatever he asks.

“He wants me to hit a gas station. The one on the corner of South Street. But it’s not just any old gas station. It’s a front for a drug spot and they’re stealing a lot of our customers. So, I gotta bust it. But Jason doesn’t want anyone dead, he’s gonna have some of his guys go in after I’m done and take them to the warehouse. I just gotta get away with the cash and drugs.” He explains.

“By yourself? What about Tommy?” You ask. Tommy was one of Chris’s partners and usually went on jobs like these with him.

Chris stays silent for a few minutes, his eyes focused on the road. He makes a left turn, both hands on the wheel now. The streetlights passing cast a yellow tinted light into the car, and you can see whatever internal struggle is going through his head right now on his face.

“Chris?” You say quietly, leaning forward to try and get him to look at you.

He doesn’t though, his jaw clenching and hands tightening on the wheel.

“Not by myself… He wants me to bring you.” he finally says quietly.

You’re unsure of what to say, not really processing what he’s telling you.

“What do you mean? Bring me with you to the job? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” You ask, utterly confused about what’s going on.

“I mean he wants you to do the job with me. Be my partner.” He replies, now pulling into the driveway of his house and putting the car in park. Now he turns to fully face you and his expression is a mix of anger and regret.

“Ever since you started tagging along with me, Jason hasn’t liked it. He says this work is no place for a woman. I really don’t give a fuck about what he says, I never have. I’m not stupid, I know I’m risking a lot by even having you around someone like me. But I told you from the start, I will always protect you. Nothing and no one is gonna lay a fucking finger on you.” He says, his hand coming up to stroke your face.

You grab his wrist, holding his hand there. “Hold on- he wants me to help you rob the gas station?” You ask, your heart racing as you now understand what Chris means. You knew Jason never liked you, you got a dark vibe from him the few times you had been around him. In fact, you don’t think he liked anybody. Chris told you many stories of how ruthless he could be.

“Baby, you’re not doing anything he says okay? I’ll take care of it.” He said, the tone in his voice making it clear he doesn’t want to discuss this any further.

Before you can question him more, he gets out of the car and comes around to open your door, helping you out and closing it behind you as you both walk into the house and upstairs to his room.

He takes off his hoodie and shirt, and turns on the shower, letting the water run so it can warm up.

“Chris… If I don’t go with you, who’s going to?” You ask, the gears turning in your head.

He shakes his head, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “No one.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, still not grasping the big picture here. “You can’t go by yourself. That would be too dangerous.” You speak.

“Y/N, please stop. We’re not talking about this anymore, okay? I’ve told you enough already.” He replies shortly, taking off his jewelry and setting it on the bedside table.

“Just answer me one thing.” You continue, determined to get the full story. “What happens if you go against what Jason says and do the job by yourself?”

Chris doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you. You know that you probably pissed him off now by pressing him for answers, but you didn’t care. You deserved to know the full situation. If he was in danger, you needed to know.

A few minutes go by, steam starting to fill the room from the shower. He simply sits at the edge of the bed with his back to you, running a hand through his hair.

“Chris. What are you not telling me?” You say, your voice slightly rising and there’s a hint of desperation as the pit in your stomach grows. There was something completely off here.

“Fuck.” You hear him silently curse before he finally tells you. “If I don’t make you do the job with me, I’m dead. It’s his sick fucking way of showing his power over me. He knows that I won’t put you in danger. So, he’s using my life as leverage.” His head is now turned slightly towards you, staring at the spot on the bed next to you. He’s afraid to look you in the eyes.

You’re speechless as he gets up and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Tears fill your eyes, and you feel sick to your stomach. It seems you’re now faced with an impossible choice.

Either risk your life and freedom to commit armed robbery or have Chris murdered by his sadistic gang boss.

When Chris finally comes out of the bathroom, you’ve created a lake of tears on your pillow from crying so hard. You’re extremely upset with him for dropping that bomb on you and just leaving you there in shock. But honestly, you probably would’ve just argued with him till your lungs gave out and maybe it was a good thing he left you alone to process.

You know Chris too well to know that he’s made his mind up about the deal Jason has given him. He’s going to give up his life just so you don’t have to risk yours. But you’ve just as equally made up your mind as well. There’s no fucking way you’re letting Chris go by himself on that job.

“Baby… I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He says, getting in bed next to you. You’re faced away from him and he lays close to you, snaking his arm around your waist and pressing kisses to your shoulder. “I know thisis fucking crazy, okay? But I couldn’t keep it from you. Don’t worry, okay? Everything’s going to be- “You cut him off, turning around abruptly to look at him.

“I’m going on that job with you. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go alone.” You interrupt. His face is soft, obviously not taking you seriously and he brushes your hair back, letting his hand trail down to rest on your shoulder.

“Just get some rest, Y/N. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” he replies.

“No Chris, I’m serious. You’ve taught me how to take care of myself, right? And we have until next week, we can plan- “You start but he shakes his head, placing his hand back on your jaw, his thumb softly rubbing across your lips, stopping you from continuing.

“No. I don’t want you getting into this. This is not up for debate. This is dangerous now.” He says sternly.

You grab his hand from your face, a little roughly, now placing a hand on his neck, looking deeply in his eyes. “Do you really think I give a fuck about how dangerous this is? Chris, I’ve been by your side through a lot of shit. If we can just get through this job and do what Jason says, we’ll be fine. No one is dying, okay? I love you and you’re going to let me help you. And that’s the end of the discussion.” You tell him, a flicker of emotions crossing his face as you speak.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply wraps his arms around you, pulling him into you and you lay your head on his chest while you both drift off to sleep.

✰

It takes a few days for Chris to accept the fact you’ll be going on the job with him. He’s a little distant from you at first, angry with you for what you’ve decided but mostly just afraid of what will happen. Since he’s met you, he’s wanted nothing more than to keep you safe. He knows his lifestyle is not good for you, not good for anyone. And now that it’s come to this point of putting you directly in the line of danger, he’s scared shitless. And he wants to kill Jason for putting both of you in this position.

But he goes over the plan with you, making sure you know every step.

Tommy will drop off both of you across the street from the store, and once you get inside, you’ll only have 30 minutes to get in and out. You’ll hold the cashier at gunpoint while Chris goes in the back office where the drugs and money is supposed to be stashed.

There will probably be another guy back there, but he’ll take care of him. As soon as Chris is done, a couple of Jason’s men will come in and finish the job, taking the rivals to him, and you both can leave with Tommy. The gas station is only a few miles from the Disciples’ warehouse, so once you get there you can drop off the goodies and be done.

Easy, right?

Chris goes over the steps again at least a dozen times on the day before the job. You start to get irritated, and he notices, giving you a hard look as your eyes glaze over when he’s talking. “Y/N. Pay attention, please.” He says, as he unloads the bullets from his .45, taking it apart to clean it.

You roll your eyes and rest your chin in your hands from where you sit on the bed. “Chris, I know the plan already. Can we talk about something else now?” You whine, watching him as he puts the gun back together.

He smirks at the tone in your voice. “Just making sure, baby.” he replies.

You can’t help but stare at him as he puts the parts of the gun back together, his arms flexing with his movements, veins in his hands popping out. A pair of black sweatpants hangs lowly on his hips, his shirt is off, and his hair is messy from the nap you took together earlier.

Also, the little pink pill you popped with Chris about 20 minutes ago is starting to take effect as you feel a slight floating sensation in your body, your heart rate picking up just a little. The air around you becomes intensified and Chris looks over at you, noticing your longing stare.

“You good?” He asks, eyes travelling down your body to your bare legs hanging off the edge of his bed. The only thing you have on is an old t-shirt of his and your black panties.

“Mhm.” You nod, staring at the gun in his hands.

There was just something so hot about him holding it like that.

He walks over, now standing in front of you, and places a finger under your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. Your eyes are glossy and low, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, admiring how pretty you look like this.

“You high baby?” He says lowly, and you reply with a nod of your head as he holds one side of your face in his hand, bringing the gun up to lightly stroke over the other side.

This causes a chill to run down your spine, wetness immediately pooling in your underwear. You’re not scared. You trust Chris completely, even if it was loaded.

He then lets it trail down further slowly, over your neck and between your breasts, dipping down your stomach to in between your thighs where he teasingly rubs it over your panties, bumping against your clit.

You sigh into his hand that’s gripping your jaw and his thumb slips into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around him, looking up into his eyes. His pupils are blown out, watching you get pleasure from his weapon between your legs.

You know its crazy but the sexual energy behind it turns you on more than anything.

He removes it suddenly, placing it on the bed and before you can whine in protest, he climbs on the mattress behind you, instructing you to scoot back so he rests against the pillows, and you sit in between his legs. There’s a large mirror in front of the bed and you lean back against his chest and watch while he trails his hands down your arms, and then your hips, resting on top of your thighs and squeezing.

Your head falls back as he places his lips on your neck, kissing softly and sucking at the skin there, leaving his mark on you. He massages your inner thighs, thumbs brushing close to where you need him the most.

“Don’t tease me.” You breathe, gripping his knee, one hand going up behind you to tug on his hair.

“What do you need, baby?” He mumbles into your neck, his hand now pressing over your underwear, palming your heat. You buck your hips slightly, pulling harder on his hair. He grunts into you, his other hand squeezing your waist. You feel his hardness growing, pressing into your ass.

“I need you. Please.” You whimper, your head resting against his shoulder. He gives into you, loving the way you beg for him, and dips his fingers into your underwear, slicking through your folds, arousal coating his fingers.

“So wet for me…” He rasps, rubbing your clit in slow, agonizing circles, making you melt into him. You moan out loud, sinking your teeth into his neck as he pushes your panties to the side now, and moves his fingers down to your entrance, pushing one in all the way to the knuckle and then pulling it all the way out, once again going back up to massage your clit.

He’s torturing you and you’re a mess beneath him, leaking out onto the sheets, squirming from the pleasure and he holds you down firmly. “Chris, please.” You beg, unsure what you’re trying to say as he has you in a state of bliss.

“Be a good girl for me.” He responds firmly, watching you in the mirror as he thrusts two fingers back inside you, stretching you out, wetness coating his hand. He moves at a faster pace now, curling as he pushes them deeper. He holds you tight, your head thrown back in ecstasy, puffing hot breaths against his neck, sweet moans filling his ear.

“Fuck, Chris, just like that.” You whine, feeling a familiar warmth in your abdomen build. He doesn’t stop, his thumb now circling your clit, his fingers hitting your g spot with each thrust.

“Look at me baby.” He demands and you lift your head up, making eye contact with him in the mirror, watching as he fucks you with his hand, your legs spread open for him.

“I’m so close.” You moan, the sparks of pleasure he’s created spreading within you. You move your hips with each thrust of his fingers into you, Chris moaning with you as your ass repeatedly grinds back against him.

“Already, mama?” He teases, unable to hide the smugness from the fact he’s always able to make you finish quickly.

“Chris.” Is all you can manage as his fingers continue to slip in and out of you, pushing you to the edge.

“I know, baby, you’ve been so good for me. You can cum baby, cum on my fingers.” He praises, and his arm is around you, holding you as your body shakes, basically riding his hand at this point. Seconds later, you release the tension that’s been building, crying out loudly as warmth floods your body, thighs clenching and your juices releasing onto the sheets beneath you.

You’re extremely tired now, your body relaxing against him as he slowly moves from under you, getting up from the bed to grab a towel to clean you up.

He does so, rubbing your legs gently, brushing your hair back from your face as you lay against the pillows. He presses a kiss to your forehead, laying down next to you.

“Get some rest, baby.” he says quietly, cuddling close to you as your eyes grow heavy. “But Chris, don’t you want- “you start, knowing he needs to be attended to as well.

He shakes his head softly. “Not now, mama. Too stressed over tomorrow. Let’s just go to sleep.” He answers, and you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and falling asleep.

✰

It’s a dark, cold night in the city, no heat in the van as you sit in the back with Chris, pulling your hood up onto your head. You’re parked in the alleyway across from the gas station, hidden from anyone who might be out on the streets.

You bounce your leg in nervousness, feeling the hard metal of the gun in your hoodie pocket. He places a hand on your thigh, trying to calm you down. “You can still back out of this you know.” He says and you lace your fingers through his, shaking your head. “I’m fine. You’re not going in there alone. I’m just a little nervous.” You respond.

Tommy sits in the driver’s seat, smoking a cigarette and passes it to you. You take a drag, trying to calm your nerves down.

“It’s okay, Y/N. 30 minutes, in and out, and we’ll be good, okay? Just remember the plan.” Chris reassures you, giving you a kiss before he pulls his ski mask on. He has a black long sleeve on and black pants, his gun tucked in his waistband.

You tie your bandana on, only your eyes visible, your hair tied back under your hoodie. “Come on.” He says, sliding the door open and helping you out. “Pull up when you see us come out.” He tells Tommy, who nods as Chris shuts the door.

He turns to you, his eyes soft and places his hands on your shoulders. “Last chance, baby. Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m not bailing on you now. Please, let’s get this over with.” You say and he pulls you in, hugging you tightly before you both cross the street quickly.

It’s 1 am, the streetlights glow on the pavement, the open sign of the gas station blinking.

He gives you one last look before he pulls open the door, both of you raising your guns at the man standing at the register.

There’s a pure look of shock and terror on his face as he raises his hands in the air. Your eyes scan the store, grateful to see nobody else inside. “Don’t make one fucking move!!” Chris screams at him as he moves toward the back door behind the counter.

You stand in front, keeping your gun aimed at his head. The man’s eyes flicker between you and Chris, his hands shake slightly. You feel bad for him but then remember how Chris told you he’s involved in one of their rival gangs and probably has done worse than you.

Chris kicks open the back door, and you watch as he disappears into the room, hearing him shout at one of the men that must be in there. You can’t make out what he says though and focus back on the clerk. You keep your expression blank as he stares at you, his arms still raised.

“Did Michael set me up?” He says and he flinches as you move your gun closer to him.

“Shut the fuck up.” You say, refusing to engage in conversation with him. You assume he must be referring to his boss, and he’s unaware that his operation has actually been busted by the Disciples.

As if he can read your mind, he speaks up again. “I just started this job. Michael hired me to run the register here, I had no idea what was going on in the back. I thought he only owned this place, I didn’t know who he really was.”

You furrow your brows in confusion at his words. Was he saying that he didn’t know his boss was actually a gang leader? You now realize he looks very young, like he could still be in high school.

You shake your head, your gun never wavering from your aim at him. “Stop fucking talking!!” You yell. For all you know, he could just be making this up, trying to mess with your head.

What was taking so long?

Chris was still in the back, and you couldn’t hear anything.

“Please, you gotta listen to me-“The clerk starts again but he’s interrupted by a gun shot popping off in the back, making you flinch and your heart instantly drop.

You panic and Chris suddenly runs out, large duffle bag on his shoulder, while you hear the man in the back scream, “Shoot him!” He sounds in pain and you get a glance of him on the floor, his leg bleeding and it’s obvious now that the gunshot was from Chris.

Before either of you can react, the clerk pulls a gun out from under the counter, aiming it at Chris.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Bam!

The sound of the gunshot rang out, making you lose your ability to hear for the next few seconds as you watched Chris go down, clutching his stomach in pain. Blood started to spill out on his hands, staining his shirt a crimson color. The gas station clerk was as shocked as you were, standing there frozen, gun still pointed.

You don’t know how or why, but you just knew you both wouldn’t get out alive from this if you didn’t do something.

So, you shot back, aiming for his shoulder. It hit him right where you intended as he doubled over immediately, screaming in pain.

You grab Chris who was still on the floor, helping him stand up. “Baby, come on. Please, we have to go now.” You plead. He grabs onto you, able to stand as you lead him out of the store.

He’s moving as fast as he possibly can, one arm around your shoulder, his other hand covering his wound. You see the van pull up on the other side of the street, your heart beating out of your chest.

You’re trying not to panic, looking up and down the street for any signs of police. There was hardly anyone out. Chris almost falls, shouting out in pain. “Fuck!” He yells and you stop him from falling.

You can barely hold him up, but you use all your strength to make it the last few steps to the van.

“I know baby, I’m so sorry. We’re almost there, Chris, just a few more feet. You can do it.” You say, and he’s shaking, still gripping onto you for dear life. You finally make it to the van, the door sliding open, Tommy helping you both in before he quickly shuts it and then hops back into the driver seat, taking off down the street.

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened in there?!” he says, looking at both of you with wide eyes.

“Shut the fuck up. I need to stop him from bleeding out. I’ll tell you later.” You snap, taking off your hoodie and wrapping it around Chris’s torso. You apply pressure, glancing at him.

He’s pale, breathing rapidly and panic in his eyes as he looks at you. You grab his face with your other hand, brushing his hair back. “It’s okay baby. Don’t worry. We’ll get back to the house soon and get you bandaged up, okay?” You reassure him, trying to keep yourself from crying.

He nods his head, grabbing your hand tightly as he winces in pain.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into? The many times you and Chris had gone over the plan, and it still didn’t go accordingly. Now Chris was wounded and the drugs and money you were supposed to retrieve still at the store. You’re not sure how you both are going to get out of this.

You tell Tommy to drop you guys off at Chris’s house instead of the warehouse. Once you get there, he helps you take Chris inside and you tell him to lay low for now, until Chris gives him the next order. He leaves, and you silently pray Jason doesn’t get to him before you guys decide what to do, or worse, get to Chris.

He’s lying on his back on the bed, and you put a pillow under his head, trying to make him comfortable. He winces in pain as you take your hoodie off from around his waist, his hands gripping the sheets harshly. You pull his shirt up. The bleeding is very little now but it’s all over his shirt and stomach, as well as your hands and you get clean, damp towels and bandages for him.

Luckily the bullet only grazed him, you notice as you clean him up, not seeing a deep wound.

You’re almost done putting the gauze and bandage on, making sure it’s tight as he looks at you, and grabs your arm, stroking it softly.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry mama.” He says weakly and you give him a soft smile. “Don’t be sorry. Just be glad we both got out alive. Are you okay?” You say and he nods. You help him pull his shirt off, his wound now clean and bandaged. You give him some water and a left-over Vicodin he had in his stash, hoping that will help with his pain.

You sit next to him on the bed now, running your hands across his chest and shoulders, his eyes closed at the feeling of your soft hands.

“Chris… what do we do now?” You ask, knowing you can’t avoid the inevitable.

He looks at you, his hand resting on your knee. “I never told you this, but I have an older brother who lives in Vermont. I’ve been thinking about going there for a while now… starting over with you.” He responds. “Would you go with me?”

“Baby… I would go anywhere with you.” You say and lean down to press your lips to his.

You kiss him softly, careful not to hurt him. You start to pull away, but he holds your face there, deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He moans at the contact, making you throb in your core, but you pull away, not wanting it to go any further.

“Chris. We can’t, you’re hurt right now.” You say but he shakes his head, pulling you back to him.

“I don’t care, I need you Y/N.” He replies and kisses you again. You give in, allowing him to mesh his tongue with yours again. You suck his bottom lip, nipping it lightly with your teeth and trail your hand down his chest, making sure to avoid the spot where his wound is, feeling his stomach tense under you.

He groans into your mouth as you palm over his crotch, already rock hard and straining through his jeans. “Fuck, mama. Don’t tease me.” He breathes, as you rub your hand back and forth over him, feeling yourself grow wet at the sound of his voice.

If it was any other instance, you would drag it on and make him beg for it like he does with you, but you didn’t want to do that to him right now.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you.” You say softly, unbuttoning his jeans as he lifts his hips, sliding them down his legs and removing his boxers.

His long, thick cock lays against his stomach and you grab it pressing a kiss to the tip and then letting a pool of saliva drip down him, coating him before you take him all the way down your throat, your nose brushing his pelvis. “Fuuuck…” He moans out, his hands holding your hair back from your face, pulling it into a ponytail.

You gag slightly, but quickly adjust to his size, bobbing your head up and down him. Your hands rest on his thighs, and you hum around him as he pulls a little on your hair, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip from the feeling of you taking all of him in your throat.

“Yes, baby, feels so good. You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He groans, making you moan again and he’s gently bucking his hips up, already feeling himself close.

You continue for a few good minutes, pausing only to catch your breath, your hand jerking him up and down before he pulls you up, helping you remove your clothes as he gives you a needy look.

“Come here, please. I wanna cum inside you so bad.” He says and you waste no time, sinking down onto him, the pleasure making you both cry out. You lay on top of him, your hands in his hair and kiss his neck, starting to grind yourself down on him.

“Is this okay baby? You’re not hurting?” You check, making sure not to put too much pressure on his lower stomach.

“Fuck no. Don’t stop.” He replies, grabbing your hips and helping you ride him.

He’s moaning in your ear, and you continue sucking and kissing his neck, leaving hickeys on his skin. You clench around him, your hips rolling, the feeling of his tip kissing your g spot making you soak all over him.

It’s only a few minutes before you’re both panting and sweating, the sounds of your wetness and skin against skin filling the room, driving you both to the highest point of ecstasy.

“Shit- feels so fucking good mama. I wanna fill you up.” Chris says, his fingertips digging into you as he squeezes your waist, feeling his release building.

You moan his name, your head falling to his shoulder, fingers knotting in his hair as you continue to bounce on him. “Cum inside me baby, please.” You whimper, and you feel his hips stutter, rhythm becoming sloppy as he starts to release into you. Your orgasm hits as well and he moans loudly as you feel his cum paint your walls, your legs shaking.

You stay there for a little, Chris holding you as you both catch your breath before climbing off him.

You check his bandage, making sure it’s still on good and then grab one of Chris’s shirts throwing it on while he puts a clean pair of boxers on.

The early morning light is now shining through the bedroom window, and you both kiss lazily, exhausted from the events of the night. He holds you close and you try not to think of what will happen next, focusing on the feeling of his hands in your hair, gently massaging your scalp, while he whispers “I love you.”

a/n: omgggg this was a crazy, long one but i really hope you guys enjoyed it!!!! im almost at 100 followers thank you guys so much. pls leave me more messages i wanna know your thoughts!!🩷

matt series next? 👀

taglist <3

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#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo oneshot #robbers

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essenteez · 2 years

Text

𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍 || c h o i s a n 1 8 +

"Fucking her was an ambrosia for his sick ego, a feast for all his demons."

"Say I'm a god." The man demanded, threat hanging in his tone like his all existence depended on it. You looked at him, overwhelmed by the unbearable teasing he kept sending upon you with his two digits deep inside you. "Say it."

🔪 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : Known to the underworld as Reaper, San wouldn't let a change to play god to slide. If the money was good, he'd made sure the job was done. Elimination of a top level politician wasn't groundbreaking but the job #76 was different – really special, having San’s inner demons to thrive. Who would've known the woman he had been fucking for months was a wife of the man he was assigned to kill?

🔪 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : San x fem!reader

🔪 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Smut, action, criminal, psychological

🔪 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : m*rder, blo*d, explicit language, gunplay, knife play, cutting, blo*d tasting, oral (both receiving), choking, double fingering (f!receiving), edging, overstimulation, tying down, mdom, pet names, slut/whore calling, face riding (m!receiving), rough sex, mentions of breeding, mind games, m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t !!

🔪 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 : 11k

The sun began setting in vivid colors, painting the heavy cirrocumulus clouds bright red in the early autumn sky. No wonder the panorama had the whole city in awe. The view was indeed breathtaking, almost overwhelming, causing almost every pedestrian to stop and admire, then eventually eternalizing the scenery with their phone cameras.

However, there was one person that seemed to be completely immune to the capturing sights.

Not one of the passersby were paying attention to the ordinary looking man that occupied a little fragment of pavement aside, next to a small but busy cafe in the east part of Manhattan. He stood there, dressed in black from head to toe, with his back against the building's brick wall. One hand submerged in his pocket, the other rolled a half smoked cigarette between his slim fingers.

The man looked like everyone else on the street, irrelevant.

And that was what he intended.

Blending into the crowd and becoming completely invisible weren't much of an effort to him; one of only two lessons that Choi San actually appreciated being taught during his time spent in the military. The other one was of course how to obliterate his own humanity. Both those valuable lessons now allowed him to wipe his ass with money.

A pair of sharp eyes flashed with threatening unpleasantness from under the black cap that was hiding San’s face. The urge to silence two loud love birds across the street was colossal.

His jaw clenched, teeth gritting with annoyance. His neck veins popped from raising irritation with their obnoxious behavior as they were taking hundreds of basic pictures of each other in the incredible lighting.

He couldn't help but stroke the gunmetal, hidden deep in his pocket as the killer's instincts were heavily tempted.

Again he was forced to focus on gathering all the thoughts he had to prioritize. No suspicious movements should be made. He glared at a nearby skyscraper, basking in the blinding sun.

The bloody star burned more with every minute. To some, that display of nature was just a sign of colder weather the next day. Those more superstitious individuals were lowering the draws while cursing the red ball on the horizon, considering it an omen of the innocent blood being spilled tonight.

San couldn't care less of any of that; weather foreshadowing or some stupid beliefs. For him, today's light of the sunset was nothing but pure luck, its help in hiding the red dot sight, which would make his job ten times easier.

"Fucking clowns." He spat out, when squeaky excited voices of the couple echoed again between tall buildings, almost disturbing his state of concentration.

However, it was not enough to make his hawk-like vision not register a sudden, weak movement on the roof of the building before him.

A pleased smirk appeared on his dangerously handsome face, giving its sharp features all the cocky colors.

"Hello there."

Only an indistinct glimpse of one black figure grazed San’s eyes, but that was exactly what he had been waiting for.

Immediately his calculative mind showed him the whole map of that part of Manhattan, with the whole military security unit scattered on every roof and filling every hole and blind spot that could potentially cause danger.

His sight turned from an annoyingly over enthusiastic couple to the big round building that was located a few blocks away from his position.

The Conference Building Center.

Today, that building was a main focus of many eyes, also those watching from dark, hidden spots. The round impressive center was completely covered with glass, reflecting all the surroundings. Windows, another luck.

No matter the circumstances, San had never failed to hunt the target. Everything that the police knew was what he let them find. There was no possibility that Reaper would ever get caught. That was why in missions like that one, where media and government were involved, he had to be extra attentive, appreciating those lucky conditions.

His fox eyes observed every movement of journalists gathered before the main entrance of CBC. He recognized the last preparation they were making as cameras were turned on one after another and the presenters started fixing their clothes and microphones.

The fun had begun.

First, the snipers arriving on the roofs to secure the territory, then the slight chaos, unfolding among the media teams and just now the representative welcoming team set on their positions to greet the big fish. It was all simple signals that San's target was about to arrive at the spot of his final moments.

He took two last puffs before the cigarette ended up beneath his shoe. It was time to move.

San had already chosen and prepared his hide site a few days ago, right before the conference was announced to the public and the military did their own scan of the place.

Despite the spot being pretty far from the CBC, it was surely occupied by one of the military pawns. San however considered it as the best thing in that difficult situation; they never paid attention to the less significant places, putting all the pressure on “the eyes” right around the main scene.

San didn’t need to be as close as he could to the target. Having them in a straight line wasn’t necessary either. Only thing required in Reaper’s death ritual was to have the duck in sight.

The spot he picked was just one of the medium sized condominium buildings, part of the older city's architecture. The stairway couldn’t be openly secured by the military since people living there had to have a free and non stressful access to their apartments. Nevertheless, it had to be watched from another, unobstructive position. San had to eliminate every obstacle that could disrupt his mission.

Arriving at the location, he kneeled down to quickly untie his shoe and take his time while tying it back. His attention was caught by two men, laughing at each other in the alley, right beside a big green dumpster situated four meters away from the stairway. For a sight of a normal human being, they looked like a couple of friends, maybe neighbors that got outside for an evening talk and smoke.

But not for San.

He noticed their well hidden attentiveness to every move and noise, their dominating hand never leaving the area of the big coats’ pockets. There was no mistake, that job would harvest more victims.

A distant sound of multiple sirens went off, catching the attention of San and definitely every “eye”.

The target number 76 was about to arrive in the CBC.

Watching how suddenly those two men began to move closer to the main street and leave their positions, San couldn’t help but snort in disbelief at their recklessness.

"Morons.”

Duty and mission over curiosity – distraction had no right to win. But there they were, giving death an invitation.

Either they were not expecting any bad events to happen or HQ failed to see they hired two idiots to guard a top politician. That was San's chance to clear the path like a child's play. He was indeed lucky today.

Leaving his shoelaces, he crossed the street with a normal paced, peaceful jog, along with many other people, trying to cross it before a column of cars would block the pass.

Ordinarily San disappeared behind a building next to his hide spot and his two prey. Walking the block around, his eyes quickly made sure that his method of escape was on the spot. After getting through the alley, he peeked from a corner to see a view that he already knew would welcome him.

Everyone’s back turned to him, every face watched as a row of black shiny cars, carrying a whole unit of bodyguards and the main star of the evening, the Governor.

Despite standing in the back of the crowd, the two curious guardians tried to catch a glimpse of a beloved politician, not sensing their own doom unraveling behind their backs as a black figure was closing the distance between them.

The sirens were getting louder, drowning out every other noise of the city, as well as San’s decisive and heavy steps in the dark alley.

The stairway was left unsupervised, which let him slide inside with no problem. All he had to do now was wait. He wished he could eliminate the couple right there but unfortunately, there was an important procedure that San couldn’t walk around. He needed these two idiots alive for a longer minute.

He decided to use this time to dress appropriately for the job. Using the chaos outside, San leisurely climbed up the stairs. The hiding place behind an old electrical box was untouched, exactly how he left it. Pulling a backpack from behind it, he quickly dressed in its content.

Black cargo jacket replaced the long puffer coat he wore previously. His cap disappeared, revealing his sharp features and short black hair he wore the same since he left the military. Plastic protectors embraced his knees and elbows.

Before putting on the black gloves, San reached out for his phone to check the hour but an unread message caught his attention.

$$lut>> Mandarin Oriental, apartment 5, hope you'll be there around 6pm. Y/n.

Unconsciously he inhaled sharply, feeling the cold air fill his lungs. For a second his straight face gave in to a combination of sinister excitement and roguish mania, decorating his exquisite features.

There was no way he would miss that meeting with you. Not when it was the biggest reason why that mission was the most satisfying job he had ever been paid to do. Just the thought of it was making him tremble in sick excitement.

His 76th job was more than just a "kill and disappear" mission. It was a perfect chance for San's crooked nature to show itself with all the dark sides to it. A great opportunity to unleash all his demons at once and let them thrive all they desired.

The moment he got the target file, he couldn't believe his own eyes. It wasn't the governor title or getting involved in political fights that was the reason for San's disbelief.

What were the odds that he was paid to kill a man whose wife was the best cumdumbster he had ever had put his cock inside?

Having this information on his mind while going through weeks of preparation and scheming, his wild and unlimited imagination only added more fuel to the fire.

That was why it was the only time he had texted you first, asking to prepare the place of the meeting and sabotaging you into daydreaming about how desperate he was for your body.

San knew you wouldn't waste your husband's nearest absence to let your dirtiest secret fuck you again. Not after all those times he made you turn into a brainless slut with his skills. He knew you wanted more and more with every meeting, making you basically addicted to the sin.

Exactly, you wouldn't waste any opportunity. Therefore what was a better chance for proving again your unfaithfulness to your husband than him being away, busy speaking to the citizens about his political successes and goals?

As the car with the governor lined up with the building San was in, the loudest resonation of the sirens filled the whole street. The sirens in San’s mind went off as well, while picturing all the obscene things he was going to do to you right after making you a widow.

"The Governor arrived at the CBC." A high volume voice blowing from the radios snapped San from his ominous state that your message brought upon him.

He carefully leaned over the barriers to look down and see that the two imbycles came back on their positions. Everything was going along with his plan.

"Outside sectors first, check in!”

The command was directed at all the buildings the furthest from the main building, including San's hide spot.

He had no more time to waste. Stuffing the backpack with his previous outfit and accessories, he pushed it back behind the electrical box. With fast but quiet steps and his back to the wall, he began walking down the stairs, while putting a silencer on the gun with rolling movements.

He halted on the lowest mezzanine, standing on the last step with his legs slightly astride. The gun hung in his grip, free hand wrapping around his wrist. With his head high, he was waiting for the rest of things to go his way.

"Guardian Apollo, Olymp 5 secured. I don't see any suspicious movements. Over."

The blurry voice on the radio got to San's sensitive ears. Remembering the map and the amount of the sectors there can be, the report must've come from the sniper on the roof above his head.

Olymp certainly meant the upper positions. Very poetic. What an effort. Now he was expecting two men downstairs to do their last stand.

"Eenie, meenie, miny-" San hummed playfully, mocking the dramatic situation the unit was heading to. He patiently stroked the trigger as he was warming it up for the action.

It took a second for him to hear what he expected the two corpses to be.

"Achilles, Hercules, Hades 5 secured. Over."

San couldn't help but smile wide, exposing the white, sharp teeth, the deadly glow lighting up his gaze.

"Moe."

The heroes' namesakes, now foolishly relaxed, still managed to notice a black figure stepping on the last set of stairs. They had a chance to look in their doom's eyes before two quick, muted bullets ended up in their skulls.

As expected, no one heard or saw anything as people kept shouting support while moving towards the center to create a crowd of love for their politician friend.

No eye caught the moment of two heavy bodies falling back on the wet concrete that was instantly stained with crimson colors.

San had less than a minute to hide the dead. Thankfully with the strength he possessed that was more than enough. He ran down the stairs and grabbing by the back of their collars, he seamlessly dragged two corpses towards the dumpster and one by one, threw them inside of it. Before the trash bags covered the crime, he took the radios off the guards and lowered the volume to the maximum on both devices. The radios continued to blow up with next sectors check in's, which would catch the unwanted attention.

The job on the ground was done. No need to rush when it came to Olymp cleansing. He climbed to the top floor in peace, causally passing by an older woman who was taking her dog for a walk. The black labrador seemed uneasy when San entered his space. Maybe because of the blood scent on his gloves or the bad intention he was carrying up the building. The man only mischievously smiled at the growling pup that immediately got yelled at by his owner.

He finally faced the door he was about to go through. Oiling the hinges and the knob during the spot preparation a few days ago now was a life saver, letting the Reaper slide out on the roof without the smallest obstacle.

San slowly closed the door behind him and waited a moment, before kneeling down and looking over a wall at the next problem he had to deal with. Somehow San had to manage to get rid of Apollo who was guarding the southern part of the rooftop behind the entrance, without being noticed.

Apollo was laying down in a full sniper position, inspecting the surrounding buildings and streets through the rifle's scope. His back was facing San.

The idea of letting him see the face of a man that was about to become his killer was tempting. But Apollo wasn't anything like San's previous targets. Maybe he wasn't the smartest but he was a soldier that might've gone through the same training. If he went through the same training, he could've actually become a troublesome obstacle.

Without any second thoughts, a hitman pointed the gun at the back of the sniper's helmetless head, presaging a fatal shot. The bullet cut the air with a muted, sharp bull whip sound. Upper part of Apollo's body dropped on the ground, lifeless heavy arms pulling the rifle down with them.

The black figure responsible for shortening the life of the god of sun wannabe, soon crawled up to the body to not be seen by other "eyes". San had to make sure that the shot was final. There was no possibility it wasn't. Still, it made him feel more secure.

He rolled Apollo on the side and pulled the rifle from underneath him. Just as San reached for his jacket to start putting out his own weapon's pieces, he noticed another piece of luck today. There was no need for him to assemble his own rifle, since the dead guardian used the same model. The version was older but it still would get the job done.

"Thanks, man. You know, I always feel bad for killing my own kind."

While looking into his victim's opened but lifeless eyes, he reached for something in his pocket. Then playfully slapping Apollo's cold cheek, he left the mark of the Reaper on it.

"Pity."

San had no time to grieve over that man and his unlucky fate. Pushing the corpse further to the side, he took Apollo's spot before adjusting the rifle back on the stand. It had been a while since he had such comfortable conditions during the assassination. Last time probably during military missions.

"Best day ever." He laughed, both in excitement and sinister at today's fortune of his.

Despite dark blue clouds slowly covering the sky from the east, the sky beyond the horizon still burned, making the town bask in red. The bloody light poured inside the CBC through the glass walls, illuminating everything and everyone inside.

Small tides of adrenaline began to tease his senses. The path was finally clean for the main target's execution, ordered by his political opponents.

Watching the scene through the scope, San made sure that the conference was taking place at the main hall, due to the big crowd of his supporters, party members and media. As planned, the hitman had the governor at the golden plate as he stood on the pedestal while speaking to the people with admirable charisma.

Poor man.

Not only was he about to draw his last breath, his wife was going to scream his killer's name in ecstasy some time after.

With the sun behind San's back, it glared out the red dot sight completely from all the angles but not his. With his hawk eyes and calculative mind supported by experience, he was at the top of his field. He knew how to use his surroundings and conditions, even those not good looking to help him succeed.

Now that he was relaxed, San couldn't stop you from roaming around his head with all the positions he was going to have you in and the surprise he had prepared for his favorite doll. The pricking sensation between his legs at these sinful thoughts as well as the growing adrenaline made his whole body tense up.

"Calm down, San." He whispered, grinning at himself. "You'll get yours soon."

It was time to end the clownfest in that part of Manhattan, before he could move to another. With no obstacle, the red laser marked the politician's side of the head. Everyone else, unlucky blinded by the sun, continued to celebrate his words with shiny eyes and wide smiles on their faces.

San also couldn't help a smile, creeping on his lips. The feeling of unearthly satisfaction tingled his sick ego. He always felt incredibly powerful, holding the right to take or spare lives. He felt like god.

No, he was a god.

"Don't take it personal, Kim Hongjoong. The fact I hold full ownership of your wife's pretty holes has nothing to do with the job." At first his words seemed to be honest, only to turn into a plain mockery. "But damn, it did make it hella more exciting."

The shot was clear, the bullet shattered the widow in pieces to stop right in the target's brain. The governor's body dropped dead behind the rostrum. The blue carpet on the stage, absorbing the growing paddle of blood began turning purple.

Manhattan's eagle, as he was called by his supporters, fell.

San used every second of total shock among the crowd before the panic exploded and the federals would begin searching the sectors. The chaos as well as the lack of idea where the shot came from were the moments that allowed San to escape without a problem.

Leaving the stairway he gulped with big steps, San couldn't help but nonchalantly pat the green dumpster containing new additions to his long list of victims. He indeed left a trail of bodies today.

With a hurry, he walked up to his black Kawaki Ninja that was waiting for him a block away. The hitman went back to looking ordinary, blending into the crowd as a simple biker. San watched the police and ambulances rushing towards the CBC as he was putting the helmet on.

"I'm leaving the mess to you." he whispered, mockingly saluting towards the pacing cars.

Switching his phone online, a message from unknown as well as a bank notification arrived immediately, both related to one another.

Unknown》》 The whole payment has been sent onto your bank account. Good job, Reaper.

The amount of zeros put a smirk on his face underneath the helmet. The job there was done. Now it was time for the second part. He could entirely indulge in his own sweet mission of ruining you.

He closed the eye shield, hiding the devilish expression. His instincts growled along with the bike as he began reviving the engine.

"Aw, Y/n." He laughed quietly, the bike rolled onto the street, joining the traffic. "You're one unlucky bitch."

5.54 pm.

Choi was never late. He also hated when you were late. Many times you were met with an empty room when you did not get there on time. Following the schedule was apparently very important for your lover. That was why you knew his frame would be standing in the hotel room’s door in the next 6 minutes. You still had some time to make yourself look even more irresistible.

As instructed, you turned your phone off before leaving the house as well as you took a taxi to arrive at the hotel. Wig and dark glasses you wore while traveling there, now laid messy on the bed. Necessary measures when you’re a high politician’s wife. You would be totally fucked if the news of your lack of morality came to the light. Not that you personally had a problem, cheating on your husband. Marriage with Hongjoong was a pure business. Elite families union. Still, you wouldn’t only ruin your husband’s career, which you would definitely pay for, but you’d also close all the door to your own future political career.

However, the risk held so much thrill. This sick kind of frisson you were always drawn to. It was addictive. No, you were already addicted.

Trying to fix your hair, you could feel your nerves and excitement alternately raising your heart rate at the thought of what was happening. Your husband was somewhere out there, preaching about freedom and positive changes for the future, surrounded by hundreads and listened by thousands, while you stood here in a hotel room, looking at your refletion in the mirror and waiting for your lover, like a sex slave for her master.

A series of chills run down your spine. Both from your corrupted mind and the click of the opening door. Your eyes subconsciously landed on your phone screen.

6pm.

With no need to rush, as a professional you walked out the bedroom to the saloon. Immediately, your gaze went to a black figure filling the entire door frame with his insanely broad shoulders. The helmet hung in his left hand.

“Like clockwork.” You commented with a shaky voice, watching him up and down like a starving vampire.

Instead of saying something, Choi’s face lit up with an indescribable smile, however the look in his eyes was darker than ever. You stood far away from him but you still could see that indefinable glow in his expression.

“You look…different.” You noticed.

“I’m feeling different.” He replied with an amused but also deep tone.

“It’s positive, I hope.”

You couldn’t deny that Choi was still a mystery to you. And something told you he would always be. No, you didn’t mind. Both of you needed physicality from one another. Nothing more.

The twisted way you two knew nothing about each other, except for every inch of your bodies was the biggest thrill that in your case bordered with slight obsession. Seemingly, it could be his case too as he was the one who called you this time.

The helmet landed on the floor with a muted thud that made you somewhat flinch.

“You’re about to see for yourself.” He grinned, closing the doors behind him and taking a few heavy steps forward. “Personally, I think you’re gonna love every second of it, beautiful.”

“I also have something special for you.” You teased, feeling proud of your new lingerie set you bought just for him.

“I can’t wait.” He purred with a raspy voice.

You watched him as his teeth bite on the gloves finger tips, one by one and slid it off his hands. It was too dark for you to see the dried up blood on the black leather. Then his jacket came undone and shared the same fate as the gloves and the helmet.

“You’re not gonna help me undress?” He snickered at your stillness that clashed with your loud, fastening breathing.

You clapped to activate the illumination system. The saloon lighted up, showing his sharp details to your hungry eyes.

His black t-shirt was completely soaked. Pants of the same color enhanced his massive thighs. Tiny waist embraced by leather belt with an attached keychain to it, showing something similar to a skull and a snake embracing it. His naked arm muscles shone with sweat. Short front strings of hair were stuck to his high and glistening with sweat forehead.

The view took your breath away which failed to escape his attentive eyes.

“And?”

You gulped loudly, swallowing the urge to fall on your knees right there on the spot.

“Shower first.” You ventured, turning around and going back into the bedroom. “I’m not letting you touch me befo-”

Steal arms surrounded you from behind like vines, limiting your movements to the minimum. You couldn’t help but scream, which was muted with his hand over your mouth.

A growl rung in your ear, “Yes you are.”

Holding you deadlocked in his embrace, with his lips glued to your ear, Choi swayed you both slowly towards the bed.

“What’s the point of shower if I’m gonna drip in sweat in a few minutes again. And you along with me, beautiful.” He taunted, sending electrifying waves down your body that contributed to the heavy flooding of your new underwear. “Let’s be eco friendly.”

Your knees touched the edge of a king sized bed when Choi let you go to take care of your white, hotel robe. But even then, you didn’t mean to move. You let him slide the robe from your shoulder, indulging in the curses leaving his lips as your body in the skimpy, black lingerie was exposed to his eyes.

You were embarrassingly weak for that man. The harsher he was with you the better. Because of him calling you first, you become swollen-headed, which made you think you could dictate the rules tonight. What a dumb bitch you were.

Slow movements of hands followed your lines and curves as if you were some Michael Angelo’s masterpiece. Through the bra you still could feel how warm his big hands were. The intense massage of your breast made your head fall backward onto his shoulder. His loud breaths burn your exposed neck and soothe it with kisses and licks.

You desperately needed that mouth and tongue of his somewhere else. Immediately.

“C–Choi…” You called him among the whimpers.

“You’re usually more shameless than requests.” He chuckled.

You understood the digression. Instinctively, you rubbed your ass against his hard rock erection.

“I-I need your tongue all over….” You moaned seductively and when your hand found his, it guided him between your trembling legs. "...her.”

“Filthy slut.” He giggled but you picked up the gulp of his at the wetness his fingers sunk in.

Choi gave your craving pussy a few lazy strokes to gain loud whines from you, before grabbing your hips to make you face him.

You had no time to think as his hand locked on your throat and cold eyes pierced through you.

"You do deserve that wish to come true as a reward for being such a good cumslut for me after all these months. But it's not like you didn't profit from it either." He grinned.

It would have some cuteness to it if not for the ice in his gaze as well as his unforgivable hand around your neck.

"And I don't do things for free."

You flinched as he suddenly attacked your lips with his. However, he kissed you painfully slowly, teased you with the brushes of his tongue as his plan was to make you go insane with lust. Little did you know it was a silence before the storm.

You tried to initiate a more passionate kiss but in response to your attempt, Choi pushed you onto the bed that squeaked at you landing.

He got rid of the wet t-shirt, revealing his sculpture-like body. His muscles were even more defined now then they were when you met previously. You moaned quietly at the ravishing sight.

Choi was perfect, a walking irresistible sin.

With one knee he climbed onto the bed and placing his hands on the sides of your head, he hovered over you.

He smirked at your shameless glares at his lips. You surely imagined them all over you. Choi however wasn't done with kissing you.

This time he wasn't torturing you with a slow pace. He surprised you with his hunger and aggressiveness. The wetness of the kiss went hand in hand with the pool between your thighs. Moaning into his mouth, you tried to pull him onto you. You wanted his skin rubbing against yours.

His hand reached for a pillow above your head to prepare the stage for the act he had in mind but a black object caught his attention. The man broke the kiss and reached for it.

"Is that yours?"

It took a second for you to stop worshiping his muscles and for your senses to come back. The realization hit you suddenly and you froze. Now you knew what he saw and what he was asking about.

Oh no.

A gun hung around his finger. Your gun.

"Y-yes." You stuttered. "That's for precaution."

"You planned to kill me if I fucked you the wrong way?" He growled with widened eyes, making the gun rock back and forth above your face.

"No. I always have it. It's just a habit." You explained, telling him nothing but the truth.

He didn't know who you were and you couldn't tell him. Being married to a man with many enemies forced you to wear the weapon with you. Especially when you went somewhere without bodyguards.

Choi seemed to not be listening to you as he stood up and started wandering around the room. His quick eyes studied the gun from all its sides.

"Walther CCP M2 380." He said coldly. "Admirable."

You felt somewhat unsafe, seeing a man you basically didn't know with a gun while being upset. The fact he knew the model from one look was even more concerning.

"I sleep with it under my pillow everyday. That's just a habit." You continued to convince him.

"I understand."

He didn't sound like he did. Choi turned to you with a smile, heavily hued with danger. His free hand grabbed a chair and dragged it in front of you.

"You named it?" He asked as he was playing some game.

The man sat down on the chair with the gun now correctly placed in his hand. And what was worse, pointed at you.

"No." You replied with a worried voice. "It's just a gun."

"How about Apollo?" His rhetorical question was followed by a mischievous laughter. "It's Apollo from now on."

He didn't load it but it was unhelpful for you to feel better.

You sat down at the edge of the bed, your faces aligned. "What are you gonna do?"

"Get up." He commanded.

You had no choice but to do what he said.

"Come here." Another command.

Approaching him as close as you could, you now domed over him but you felt nowhere near empowered. You flinged at the coldness of the gunmetal on your womanhood.

"W-what are you doing?"

"It's more about what you are gonna do, beautiful."

The gun pressed even harder, now brushing your clit. A series of brutal chills possessed your body. Despite the situation, your treacherous cunt throbbed in excitement.

"Ride it."

Your eyes widened with surprise. So he wasn't mad, he simply chose to use the occasion for a foreplay. That indeed suited him.

"That seems pretty unsafe." As much as you wanted to do it, a peace of caution decided to come through your corrupted mind.

"It's not loaded." He chuckled at the sudden change in your voice. You didn't seem to be so scared anymore. "If you don't ride Apollo and make him sticky with your cum, you're not getting the real gun tonight. And I promise you…"

With this he solidly grabbed his clothes cock.

"This one is loaded.'

You allowed him to push the weapon between your legs completely. The feeling of thrill filled you up again. You looked down at Choi's dark eyes that watched you intensely.

As he wasn't saying anything, you slowly began moving your hips back and front. You felt how the slight rugged surface of the metal only added more friction.

"Ahh.." you inhaled sharply as the gun moved on its own since his holder decided to fasten the process.

You watched Choi sitting there, leaning backward on the chair like he was a master of anything. At the first sight he looked relaxed and amused. However, his jaw muscle tensing up with each of your moans gave him away. He barely controlled himself as you stood there between his legs with his hand mercilessly pushing the gun, spreading your swollen folds.

The feeling was overpowering. The flood of pleasure made you lean forward, supporting yourself on the chair's frame.

"Fuuuuck. It feels so good."

You looked at him with hazy eyes. He was smiling widely before stopping his movements.

"Fuck yourself on it." His eyes glowed while looking up at you.

You didn't have to be told twice. The need for release was enormous and you were so close. The wetness completely soaked your underwear and started leaking down your thighs.

You rode the gun as fast as you could to reach the highest pleasure. The thought alone that it was a dangerous weapon that fucked you was enough to double the excitement. The heat waves hit you one after another.

"Cum on it." He ordered, seeing you holding onto the last string of control.

The gun got caged between your cramping thighs. Your knees went weak from all the convulsing attacking your body. The release birthed some beautiful sounds from your throat. Apparently so sweet and satisfying, it broke him.

He abruptly got up, pulling you close by your waist to him as his other hand, tightening around the gun, was brutally working between your trembling legs.

The slick and uneven metal surface rubbed you in all the right places after he put more pressure on your dripping pussy.

"Fuuuuuck, Choi!"

You were coming hard, looking into his cold and maniacally needy eyes as he walked, or more like dragged you backward. He dropped you back on the bed as soon as your high disappointingly weakend.

"Damn." He clacked, watching the surface of the weapon, completely wet. "I'm surely gonna miss it."

His words didn't get to your ears. Your mind was anywhere but there with you.

It wasn't the end of dangerous weapons for you. Apollo fell somewhere on the floor to be replaced with its equally deadly friend. A sudden click of the opening knife brought you back from cloud nine. You tried to glance at Choi but next you knew you had the cold blade at your neck as well as a whole man hovering over you.

"You–"

"Maybe after I'm done with you, you'll regret not using that gun on me." He hissed while slowly drawing a trace from your trachea to the carotid.

You didn't dare to move, feeling the sharp object moving down your sternum. The tightness of the bra disappeared. He seamlessly released your breasts. The knife was very sharp, too sharp.

Only when the man let out a satisfying adlip at the view, you felt the stinging pain.

"Blood suits you, Y/n." He smiled at you, his lips getting close to your wound.

His long tongue felt hot against your skin. Even in a dimmed light you noticed your blood marking his muscle as it collected all the droplets from a small cut.

"Mhmm.." your lover hummed as if he was tasting the most delicious thing.

That action should've absolutely creeped you out. But the result was completely different. Familiar vibrations returned between your thighs, making you unconsciously move them, attempting to rub onto him. Your breath became loud, faster. You wanted more of that madness.

Nothing escaped his attention. Without a word, he licked the wound, occasionally sucking and grabbing your erect nipples between his teeth.

"More.." You whined quietly.

The muted laugh that left his throat woke the worst behavior in you.

"Yes, you're right. Let's cut some more, shall we?" He trailed off, his fast eyes wandering down, "How about…here?"

The blade cut through the lace of your underwear like butter, uncovering the wet truth.

"Bingo."

With the top part of the knife, Choi began painting abstractions on their sensitive womb. He watched you closely, feeding on your cute whimpers. Your eyes getting more drunk, your actions becoming more desperate and lewd. It was activating the devil in him and all the accompanying demons in.

San felt undefeated, controlling life and death, people and whole cities. No rules, no morals. He embodied freedom. Walking by the club, then buying it along with people working there. Murdering a politician, then senselessly fucking his wife. He could do everything he wanted, he got everything he desired and no one could stand on his way. He was…Yes, yes he was. And he was about to make you admit it.

A whip sound cut the air. The knife ended up in the wall. You had no chance to react or ask what happened as two fingers entered you immediately.

You grabbed his wrist at the sudden invasion.

"Aah fu-"

His free hand embraced your neck and pinned your head to the bed.

"Say I'm a god." The man demanded, thread hanging in his tone like his all existence depended on it.

You looked at him, overwhelmed by the unbearable teasing he kept sending upon you with his two digits deep inside you. He curled them up, uncontrollably had you jolting your hips upwards but his unforgiving hand pinned you back on the mattress.

"Say it."

The man's face darkened in its expression, eyes beamed with something unknown to you, something that made you gulp at the first glance but the lust and hunger for danger was stronger, quickly killing all the doubts in the bud.

"You're a god." You breathed out, "You're…my god."

The grasp on your neck tightened, making you squirm in need. Choi smiled as if you gave him fulfillment, cheeks adorned with dimples did not match his mad eyes.

You trembled at the fingers sliding out of you. All you could do was lay with bated breath and watch as he rested wet digits on his stuck out tongue and then sucking your juices off.

"You cunt already worshipping me." Choi laughed.

Next he sat down and with one, quick and effortless move he turned you over. Spreading your legs, he buried his handsome face between them. His tongue immediately went busy mercilessly lapping on your dripping folds.

"Fuck." You moaned, gripping tight onto the sheets.

With loud grunts, he was devouring you as if he intended to suck the soul out of your being. Slurping on your essence, abusing your sensitive clit with the tip of his organ of taste, he had you mumbling nonsense.

To have a better access to your soaking folds, he put his arms around your ass and made your back bend downward with his hands interlocked on your waist.

"Fuuuck!" You whined between heavy breaths when this position let him reach for your clit. You heard those crazy sinful sounds his mouth produced in contact with your flooded pussy.

Smoothly transitioning to a new tactic, San gave you a few long, full licks, tongue relaxed and flat, that traced from your pussy up to your ass. He kneeled before your exposed bottom.

"Did I ever tell you your slutty holes have been my favorite?" He hummed.

The man didn't wait for the answer. You weren't even able to give it to him. He aggressively spat on your spreaded cheeks, lubricating your holes with his thumb.

"Show me they still are fitted for that title."

Two fingers return to penetrating you but this time it was different.

You gasped loudly as Choi did not share his plans with you.

The walls of your cunt welcomed his middle finger, while your ass engulfed the index finger.

You screamed in pleasure of being fucked in both holes. The tempo was crazy, bringing you to the edge at a fast pace. His long tools on torture attacked your sweet spot from all the directions. Your sight began getting blurry. The drool oozed from your mouth. You were about to cum hard again.

If that wasn't enough, Choi let his other hand wander underneath you to take care of your lonely bud with merciless circle motions.

"Fuuck fuck fuck I'm cumming!"

As if you said something wrong, his hands suddenly left your trembling body.

"What-"

"I don't do things for free, remember?"

Choi ignored your disappointed surprise. Unmoved by your whines, he turned you on your back again.

Your senses were dulled but your whole body was working at full speed, every nerve awaked. You felt like erupting.

He didn't seem to care as he was busy unbuckling his belt and getting rid of his black cargo pants and heavy boots.

You gasped at the full view of his naked frame. The glistening cock proudly throbbed, teasing you with the pleasure you felt dizzy thinking of.

In complete silence he grabbed your ankles and pulled you close to him. Positioning you to kneel, he stood up on the bed, with you between his legs.

It was unknown to you why he went for this position. For him, his chase for power and ultimate control manifested itself in that. The higher he could get, no matter the situation, he would go for it.

His dick aligned with your face. You were confused at first but then you understood his needs. You licked your lips at what you would be tasting next.

"Take him as you want to be taken, beautiful. I only take fair deals." He said, shamelessly grabbing his pride and directing it towards your mouth.

And you did. You attacked him with all your power, forcing him to support himself on the upper wooden frame of the bed that was screwed to the ceiling.

"Yeah, just like that. Good girl." He praised you, trying his best to not betray his state.

With the help of your palm, you took him whole, sucking the life out of his tip that was turning more and more purple from the tension.

After a minute of blowing him off like there is no tomorrow, he firmly grasped your messy hair to your head to keep it in place. He fucked your mouth like a starving beast, throwing spirited curses in the air.

You felt yourself dripping on the sheets. Reaching back, you couldn't remember ever being this wet before you met Choi. The need for his dick, no matter how he was going give it to you turned you in a dumb, brained washed whore. And you loved it with every inch of your body and every corner of the darkest parts of your mind.

He laughed in an approaching ecstasy.

"That motherfucking throat of yours was made to take dicks- Ahh shit, yes!"

He put on speed, ruthlessly hitting the wall of your throat. You couldn't control your breathing anymore and began sweating. Tears fell down your heated cheeks. Thick drool from the corner of your lips. You began choking.

"Shit shit shit!"

The overpowering pleasure made his knees go weak. He held your head and fell down along with you, pulling his cock out of mouth at the landing.

"Fuck, you almost made me cum, you little slut." He laughed maniacally while looking at your fucked up face.

You had problems focusing. Trying to calm down your breathing made your throat hurt even more. However you still smiled at him, lying there between his thighs, with his quivering cock above you. Him cursing you out made you proud that you took him like a champ. It only whetted your appetite.

He tilted his head at the side with an act of worry on his face. That little asshole.

"Aww my poor baby." He pouted and began wiping the drool and teras of your chin and face. "Worked so hard to get my cock inside you, didn't you? Yes you did."

The sweet face faded as fast as it appeared and gave its place to the real lunatic.

"Imma quench my thirst first. I know you're drowning down there." With this, he slapped your thighs apart and dived right into the act of eating you out like a gluttonous addict.

San seemed to overly enjoy your taste and how wet you were from all the teasing and edging. Sounds that came out of his mouth were proof of that. His dramatic grunting, moaning, groaning added vibrations to the already rough pleasure your cunt was graced with.

With his tongue, hard and tensed he made circles around your clit like a hungry vulture.

"Please, don't sto-op. Just like that." You whined with a husky voice.

The man kindly, almost suspiciously decided to listen to your begging as he continued. He seemed to be leading you towards the needed release and you hoped he would finally allow you to take it.

Sudden invasion of his fingers made you grab his short black hair, as a silent plea to not stop.

Rubbing onto your sweet spot, he began sucking on your sensitive bud. Despite his mouth being busy, you still could hear his muted laugh. San had your body and soul under his total control, just like he liked it.

You sensed the warmth starting to spread from between your thighs up your belly and chest. You could feel the ecstasy would be crushing in a second now. Every nerve in your body was ready to pass the pleasure further.

"Ah I'm cumming hard." You announced it with a high pitched whine.

At your words, his lips and fingers left your shaking body. You screamed in anger. You really felt like crying like a child denied the things it wants.

It was all a game for him. You were just a toy, a doll ready to act the way he wanted. He didn't care about your pleading and state.

"Noo! Choi, no please don't stop! Please! I want to cum. I need to…" You begged, annoyed at him and desperate for him. Unconsciously you tried to bring his face back to your puffy folds but he was stronger, not only physically but also mentally. He could get you to do anything.

"But this is so much fun, beautiful? Look at you trying to fuck yourself on my face. Pathetic. " He grinned at your hips moving. His plumb lips and chin were glistening from all your wetness.

Winking at you, he sent his hand under your thighs and grabbed your waist. Like a bag of sand, he rolled you both over. You found yourself kneeling with his insanely handsome face underneath you.

"Ride my fucking mouth like I knew you dream of every night. You better flood my tongue with your cum, you hear me?" He growled at you with a threat. "I'm having this cunt drowning me."

You looked at him with gratitude.

"Yes, sir."

With a devilish smile, Choi stuck his tongue out and accepted your pink velvet like it was created to fit only the shape of his lips.

The pathetic desperation had you immediately go to work. Will slow movements your rode his face back and forth. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. You stared at two voids, full of the unknown, but not the unknown you want to explore, but the one you run away from. His eyes devoured you as if he was putting some curse on your mind to worship him in all his might. And you had no choice but to let him.

After a few trials to find a perfect spot and pace, you found yourself with his tongue deep inside you where he moved it vigorously in your pulsating walls and your clit hitting against his nose.

"It feels so good, aah."

He slapped and hashly squeezed your ass to command you to go faster. You were supposed to ride his mouth like a desperate slut you were.

Your hips fastened. The euphoria, due to being previously denied, was coming quickly. You were ready to welcome it with open arms and you were not going to let Choi stop it.

Caging him between your thighs, you fell forward, supporting yourself with your hands. You closed your eyes shut, all that mattered at that moment were your body needs.

His tongue penetrated your corners, never giving in. The man allowed you to do anything, he wanted to feel you crushing only with a minimal effort. Choi had your juices dripping down his chin and neck. He couldn't help himself, and when you came undone, screaming and trembling on your entire body, he grabbed your hips and pinned you deeper into his face – mouth now clinged to your convulsing pussy, sucking all the cum like a nourishing nectar.

"Choi, fuuuck!"

"More." He groaned, detaching from you, "More!"

You had no capacity to stop him and you let him throw you on your back again. With blurry eyes you saw him picking up something from the floor.

It looked like the bra and panties that he previously cut.

Using their stretchy fabric he quickly tied each of your knees to the bed frame behind you. Now you were laying there, extremely astride, which wasn't a problem with you being flexible. He had your womanhood on a shameless display. You were too distracted by the slow fade of the powerful orgasm to protest.

The man climbed onto you, looked in your eyes and smiled, biting his lips.

"Good girl." He cooed, caressing your cheek. You tried to catch a breath and Choi saw this as an opportunity to slide his thumb inside your opened mouth. Obeying, you sucked on it. "Fuck. I feel like my balls are about to explode. Congratulations."

He raised himself up and watched the scene he prepared. You waited there, sanity hanging on the thinnest of threats. Whole covered in sweat, drool and with exposed holes, all for him to demolish.

You woke up a little at your pussy being slapped by his hard rock cock.

"Choi..." you whispered.

But there was no time for conversation. He slid inside and it was the only time he did it slowly and carefully. After adjusting to your tightness with a few pushes, the pace dangerously increased.

"You're on a pill, aren't you?"

"Y–yes." you replied while gripping on the sheets from your walls being unmercifully stretched. He was thick, incredibly thick.

His face suddenly appeared before you, his body weight pinning you to the bed.

"Tsk, shame." Fingers wrapping around your neck, "It'd low-key be fun to see your belly round with my bastard and then struggling to hide the fact it's not a governor's kid."

It was your first mistake. Melting over his huge dick fucking you, instead of listening to the last words. San knew you wouldn't register it. He had you stupid, brainwashed.

"Wouldn't it?" He demanded to fuel his satisfaction.

You were not able to answer, not with him rubbing you in all the right spots. The heat crawled up your back and cheeks. You were on fire.

"I-"

He slid out to reposition but you had no chance to even whine in disappointment as he abruptly came back inside.

"WOULDN'T IT!?" He growled out.

Now he, supported on his hands and feet, pounded into you with the help of his entire weight. His pelvis raised and fell with even pace but ruthless intentions.

"Yes, it would. Yes, it would. YES, IT WOULD."

You held onto his forearms, accepting all the thrusts.

"You're gonna take every drop. All the load! Like the Real. Cum. Dump. Ster. You. Are." He spat aggressively and every sylab meant one powerful pound, making the hotel bed screech underneath his power.

"Yes, sir!" You cried out from potent pleasure.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the voice stuck in your chords. The breathing became harder, almost impossible. Your face distorted from unimaginable bliss. You didn't feel the pain from your ties sunk into your skin, causing the nasty marks. All your senses accepted was the stone, veiny dick, making a point that San owned you entirely.

He stopped moving, realizing you were close. He buried himself as deep in you as he could, held it for a two second and then abruptly left your interior. Repeating this act a few times had you convulsing in madness.

You came, crying out his fake name which put a smile on his perfect, sinful face. He began riding your high with a contented expression until it suddenly gave its place to surprise.

He was coming.

"Fuck." He hissed.

His orgasm arrived faster than he planned. Your pussy cramped around him, drastically sucking him in. Grabbing you neck with both hands, he returned to fucking you like a maniac, chasing his high.

You were tired but you could feel yourself cumming again. You were too sensitive, the pace and his muscular hands on your neck was enough to stimulate you.

"I'm cumming again!" You whined, fully crying now. It was too much, but it felt so good.

"Milk my fucking dick out! Take it all." He managed to sound harsh before his voice broke along with his movements getting sloppier.

You both came, sending moans and grunts each other's way. Hot load exploded inside you, flooding your walls and all their corners.

San slid out of you only after making sure every last drop that left his balls ended in you.

You closed your eyes and let your drained, tensed body sink into the soft bed. Worrying about a big amount of sperm leaking out of you or how you would bring your senses back and more importantly walk, you left it all for later. You needed to rest, catch a breath.

You didn't notice how quickly San got up until you heard him laugh. Chills run down your spine and you look at him confused, terrified. The laugh wasn't normal for someone who just had the best sex in their life. It belonged to someone who just won a deadly deal, who just made a fool out of somebody else.

"What are you doing?" You asked, seeing him picking up his clothes and boots.

He didn't grace you with his eyes and attention until he wasn't fully dressed up.

"It may sadden you, beautiful. It surely saddens me but…" He chuckled and ripping the knife off the wall, he hid it in his pocket. "This is farewell."

Your heart sank. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before finally shouting, "What are you talking about?!"

"Simple. I got what I wanted. I don't enjoy you anymore." He smirked and you felt like ripping his face off.

You attempted to untie yourself but the knots were precisely tied, like the military style. And mercilessly cut into the skin around your knees.

"You must be joking-"

Choi silenced you by climbing the bed with his face suddenly being close to yours.

And the knife at your throat.

The man smiled, with his eyes wide open and you finally saw the truth. You saw the devil, but you were so convinced it was just an act. Trembling on your body intensified. It wasn't roleplay. All of that, from the first meeting up till now, it was not a play.

Choi used you. All this time when you thought you walked on firm ground, you were actually walking on the thinnest ice.

You never claimed you knew him well. But you did think you knew him enough to trust him with that little secret he was also part of.

He was a total stranger. The man might've been a serial killer. A fucking cannibal. You knew nothing. Did he really threaten you with those weapons? What if you did something wrong, would he kill you? He could've killed you. What did you get yourself into?

Seeing the unpleasant enlightenment in your eyes, he leaned even closer and pecked your shaking lips like the most gentle lover. You let him, as you were absolutely frozen.

"Once you release yourself from this, I advise you to check your phone, watch the news. I'm pretty sure the whole country is looking for you right now, ma'am." He limited his volume to the whisper, "I want you to know…it was me."

With this, he lowered himself on you, kept looking in your eyes, he pecked your abused, still exposed core.

"I wish you a good life, Mrs. Kim."

And he left, not turning back at your screaming and shouting.

You were cold as someone poured a bucket of icy water on you. Frost filled your veins. Every ounce of excitement, mood from just a few minutes ago vanished. You were now crying. Not from the overpowering euphoria like before but from pure fear. Crushing fear.

He knew. Choi, if that was even his name, he knew who you were. The question was – since when? For how long he had been playing with you?

Fighting a panic attack, you somehow managed to release yourself from the harmful ties. The tightness and rough edges made the skin under your knees bleed.

You climbed off the bed, almost falling on the floor due to how sore you were. Everything hurt; from your head to toes.

The room lit up when you got to the switch. You rustle your phone out of your purse and turn it on. You were gulping back sobs.

The unanswered calls flooded the screen. From your bodyguards, your parents and members of your husband's party as well as workers of his office.

"I'm pretty sure the whole country is looking for you right now, ma'am."

Your heart dropped to your feet.

The TV remote, resting at the coffee table caught your attention as if it was calling your name. Everything in your body was telling you to not watch the news. That it will crush you. You had all the worst scenarios running wild in your mind; sextapes released, scandals and rumors. This psychopath could do everything. Your true, but unacceptable to public nature could not be your little dirty secret anymore. You know that no matter what it was he had done, you were ruined.

There was no way out. You would have to face it sooner or later. At first the screen showed you a sitcom with the audience laughing at dialogues between two comedians. You felt like you were the object of their taunts. Pressing the button that led you to the next channel, you already felt your life ended with it. You wished it would've prepared you for the darkness you got thrown into.

THE GOVERNOR OF MANHATTAN SHOT AT THE CBC.

ASIDE FROM THE GOVERNOR, THERE WERE THREE MORE VICTIMS – AGENTS THAT PATROLLED THE AREA.

FBI CONFIRMS THE KILLER WAS A WELL TRAINED SNIPER. TERRORIST ATTACK?

Your legs failed to hold you up. Falling on your knees, every part of your body went limp. Head was about to explode from a sudden migraine as if too much information flooding your mind attempted to melt your skull. You felt like a nest of scorpions exploded inside you, stinging all the organs you needed to live.

"Shot?" You repeated the news, it was the only thing you could do right now – asking questions into the empty sphere, "Hongjoong's…dead?"

The tears had finally fallen from your hollow eyes. What was happening? Is it some sort of prank, a stupid joke? You could feel your sanity slipping away at an alarming speed.

FBI QUICKLY DISCOVERED THE BUILDING FROM WHICH THE HITMAN GAVE A SHOT. ON THE SPOT THEY FOUND A STICKER, GLUED TO THE VICTIM'S CHEEK. THE STICKER SHOWS A SKULL WITH A SNAKE. IT'S BEING INVESTIGATED AS A POSSIBLE MARK OF THE KILLER.

Skull and a snake? A scene flashed before your eyes. You had seen it somewhere. Yes, you definitely did. You saw it today.

"I want you to know…it was me."

You felt nauseous and even though you tried to control it, you vomited on the white carpet, already stained with blood. Trying to push away the truth was impossible. Choi told you to meet him up in secret, then he killed your husband. Next he came to fuck you, knowing exactly who you were and that you were unaware of what was happening outside the hotel. He played you like a fool, ruined your life. He stripped you of dignity, shame and life. He killed your husband. Took your future away from you and your family.

You began laughing. Just like Choi before leaving you in this hell. You were done. What was there left for you?

"Nothing." You answered yourself.

Subconsciously, your eyes wandered to the gun laying half a meter away from you. You crawled to it. Grabbing it unphased, you slowly loaded the weapon.

"Nothing." You repeated with an empty heart.

The gunmetal felt cold under your chin. You couldn't believe how easily you contributed to the destruction of your own life that you so carefully planned.

Your mind was filled with the faces of your friends and family, as well as Hongjoong's. Now the tears you shed were for both of you. Maybe if you gave him a chance when he asked for it, you wouldn't be here today.

You smiled, remembering his beautiful smile, his warmth and began putting pressure on the trigger.

THERE IS NO CONTACT WITH THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE, KIM Y/N. DID SHE ALSO BECAME A VICTIM OF THE KILLER? WAS HE WORKING ALONE?

You quickly put the gun down as your thoughts changed the flow.

You saw all the loopholes in his rash plan. Dots begged to be linked. The news header wasn't far from the truth. You were a victim of the killer. He may have left you alive for some reason but he did use your vulnerability. Choi hurt you and threatened you. He injured you. He also admitted to the murder. He wore the same keychain as the sticker that the FBI found. You looked down at your body. Additionally, you were covered and filled with his DNA.

The light appeared in the dark tunnel.

A sudden buzzing of your phone tamed the brainstorm unfolding in your mind.

The secretary of your husband's office kept trying to reach you. After all Krystal was also your friend. No wonder she still tried to reach you when all the hope was gone for others.

You slid the green button.

"Oh my God, Y/n! Where are you!?" Her voice blew up from the speaker. "Are you ok!?"

It was time to begin the act of the century. Everything was allowed to bring hell upon this psychopath.

"He said he had dirt on Hongjoong. That if I met with him alone and gave him money, he would leave us alone." You sobbed into the phone. "He took the money. He…hurt me, Krys."

"Jesus Christ, Y/n?! Where are you?" Her tone was even more panicked.

"Mandarin Oriental, apartment 5. Please, come quickly. He left but he can come back." You mumbled in fear because the possibility of your words happening wasn't that unbelievable.

"I'm on my way! Call the hotel service now and tell them everything. Tell them to call the police. Do you hear me? You can't be alone!"

You mumbled something in response and put the phone down.

After ending the call, you indeed got worried he might've come back after realizing his terrible mistake. You immediately darted toward one of the nightstands, as much as your strength and injured legs allowed you to and grabbed the phone. The service was soon to be there.

His words rang in your ears suddenly. Choi told you to call him a god. Idiot got too comfortable in his ego.

He was a product of seven deadly sins. Prideful in thinking he was invincible, untouchable. Led by wrath, lust and gluttony, he wanted all the power and control over life, death as well as all mysteries of your body and when he tasted it, he couldn't get enough. You witnessed how jealousy blinded him that he could never be what his sick mind desired. He could never be like a god. Gods don't make stupid mistakes, don't miscalculate. And at last; the cherry on top, he was too lazy to clean after himself.

"We will meet again." You taunted, putting on the robe to hide your bruised and cut body, an important piece of evidence.

You calmly sat back down on the messed up bed while wiping your cheeks from all the tears and smudged make up. You felt horrible but you didn't plan to be alone in misery. If you were meant to fall, you would take Choi down with you. He was about to meet his doom and the doom wore your name.

"Aw, Choi. You're one unlucky son of a bitch."

@nateezfics as you asked ❤️

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riddle-me-ri · 2 years

Note

Hey this was me who wanted a whole fic for this scenario for the bottom line "go be pretty over there away from me" could u do it thank u

A/N: I’m writing this at like 4 am cause I can’t sleep, so if this goes down later tomorrow I'm heavily editing it rip but hey at least I get to practice writing for other rogues that pique my interest! I hope I do them justice. This is another shot of just my own generalized takes on them (albeit I've been watching BTAS again, so they may seem softer than normal rip), and still no Joker sorry not sorry and most of these ended up being fluffier than I intended oop. Special thanks to @like-rain-or-confetti for supporting my ramblings in the tags of my reblogs lol

Batman Rogues x Reader - Yes, You’re Pretty…Now GO AWAY

Edward Nygma/The Riddler:

It was ridiculous.

Absolute nonsense.

He was jotting down riddles and puzzle traps away in his journal. You were only a few feet away on the other edge of the couch. Your face glued to your computer screen.

Everything was fine…until you started laughing.

Your little giggles, and the sweet small smile that lingered after your giggle fit. The way your face’s natural glow was tinted by the blue of the screen…

Ludicrous, outrageous, unbelievable.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

“C-Could you perhaps take yourself…anywhere else but here?”

You scrunched up your eyebrows in confusion. “Uh…yeah I could, but I don’t want to. I want to stay here with you, Ed.”

“I…appreciate that, but it’s rather hard to focus.”

Your blinked and shook your head. What? “I’m not even talking to you, I’m only like three feet away from you!” You shot your hand up going from right to left, gesturing the distance between you and Edward.

“Yes, yes, but y-you’re distracting…”

“How?”

“You’re laughing, smiling, beaming…” Ed drifted from stern to swooning.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. You scooted closer to him on the couch, catching him off guard.

“Eddie, are you saying I’m distracting you because…I’m pretty?” You grinned.

Edward rolled his eyes. “Yes, beautiful even, so can you please go somewhere else?”

You doubled down. “I don’t know sounds like a you problem…”

“Please Y/N!”

“Okay, okay, just tell me again how beautiful I am…”

Oswald Cobblepot/The Penguin:

You were just helping Oswald out in his office. You enjoyed helping him stay organized. He may be a criminal but it was in organized crime.

Oswald was going over invoice statements and you were checking inventory for the lounge’s food and beverages. However, you were proving to be rather…distracting.

Your legs were crossed, you leaned back in the leather office chair, slightly rocking yourself. You bit the end of your pen between your teeth while your eyes intently scanned the contents of the papers in front of you.

The gentleman of crime found himself not thinking so gentleman thoughts about you. All previous work and tasks that needed to be done was slowly slipping out of his mind.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, Y/N, dove…”

“Yes, Ozzie.” You looked up at him with a sweet smile.

Oh, why’d you have to do that?!

“Uhh, do you think you can help the girls downstairs? I recall they needed some assistance with the new uniforms.”

You pursed your lips and furrowed your eyebrows. “Uh, that’s the first I heard. They seem to be getting along well with them, Oz.”

“That’s not what they told me earlier, love.”

“Oswald, I spoke to them and they said they were fine!” You insisted.

Oswald cringed, clearly not taking the bait to leave.

“Is there something else that’s wrong? Something bothering you?” You inquired.

“Ah…it’s just me, love. Well, more you than me…” He scratched the back of his neck.

“And how is it more me than you?”

“Dove, you’re far too gorgeous, you always are, but more so now, and it’s distracting me,” Oz admitted.

Your eyes widened, but you felt your throat bubble up in soft chuckles. “I’m distracting you?”

Oz gave you a lopsided smile. “It’s the truth, love…I should be checking this numbers and adding and subtracting, but all I can think of is you…”

You felt your face warm up slightly, as a soft blush rose to your cheeks. “Ever the charmer, Oswald.”

“It’s the truth, Y/N. Once I finish these papers, I’ll come get you, okay?”

“You better, Cobblepot!” You shot a finger at him, trying to act serious, but you both could tell you were only teasing him.

Oswald laughed. “The sooner you leave the sooner I can get this done!”

You were halfway at the door when you looked over your shoulder. “You owe me, Ozzie!”

Oz kept laughing, waving you off. “I’ll make it up, I promise!”

Jonathan Crane/The Scarecrow:

This wasn’t right.

It wasn’t fair.

How can he resume his plans as the Master of Fear and the Lord of Despair when you’re sitting right there.

You looked so cozy and warm. You were cuddled up in one of Jonathan’s old Gotham University hoodies and a long fleece blanker. You were reading one of your novels while he was on the other side of the room; recording certain chemical reactions, wrote down further hypothesis to test later for a new toxin.

You assured him you wouldn’t say anything or bother him, you just wanted to be near him. Jonathan figured it would kill two birds with one stone, he can get work done and you two get to be near each other.

However, you were still so enthralling and enchanting to the ex-professor. Seeing you so content in his presence. It made a warmth bloom in his heart he had never felt in a long time, he was sure he had long lost the capability to feel this warmth. This love, dare he say.

“Uhh, Jonny…” You start.

“Hm?”

“Sweetheart, you’re staring…”

Jonathan immediately shook his head and blinked, as he broke whatever spell you unconsciously put him in.

“Oh, um, I-I apologize…” Jonathan’s face slowly turned red at his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

You giggled. “It’s fine, Jonny, do you want me to read in another room?”

Jonathan really didn’t want you to go, but he didn’t see himself really getting any work done.

“I promise I’ll come join you soon, darling…but if…if you don’t mind?”

You got up from your chair, giggling, wrapping yourself in the blanket and leaving your index finger in the pages of your book to mark your spot. You bent over and gave Jonathan a kiss on the cheek.

“I don’t mind, Jonathan. Just don’t be too long, okay?”

“Y-Yes, darling…”

Jervis Tetch/The Mad Hatter:

Okay, okay, the tea party was almost ready.

Jervis was setting up his next tea party for the Batman. He had the tablecloth laid out. All the plates and tableware was set. Y/N sat in their chair looking radiant as ever…

Y/N sitting in a reclining chair smiling away at some handheld device. Jervis thinks he remembers you called it a Switch or something like that. You seemed to enjoy playing on it, and it gave you something to do while Jervis was plotting and scheming.

However, he didn’t notice until just now, just how ethereal you were. Your eyes lit up, your cute little hums of satisfaction, your giggles. Gosh, your giggles were quite infectious even for him and he is the Mad Hatter.

“Is there something wrong, Jervis?” You noticed he stopped pacing around and mumbling different ideas and tasks he had going on in his head.

“Oh, um, no nothing at all…” Jervis darted his eyes away from you and tried to resume setting the traps on the chairs surrounding the table.

There you go giggling again, gosh you were as cute as a white rabbit.

WHAP

Jervis yelped in pain as the rat trap he had placed on the table was triggered when he placed his elbow down on it.

“Oh my God, Jervis!” You jumped up and immediately helped pull back the mechanism, freeing his arm.

“Aahh, ah..” Jervis whimpered. You began softly rubbing the joint, hoping the pinching sensation will fade away.

“U-um..my dear, Y/N. N-Not that I don’t enjoy having you here with me…but perhaps it may be best if you went somewhere else while I finish up here.”

A puzzled look showed up on your face. You titled your head when you asked, “but why, Jervis, everything was going fine…did something distract you?”

“Well…yes…a certain something..someone did..”

“Someone? Oh! Aww, Jervis…” You couldn’t help the small smile that grew across your face.

“I’m afraid you’re far too enchanting for me, my dear. You’ll have to make haste elsewhere.” He shrugged nervously.

“Well, if it’ll keep you from hurting yourself, I think I can oblige you just this once.” You poked the tip of his nose.

Jervis giggled at the gesture, causing you to laugh in return.

Harvey Dent/Two-Face:

You had no reason to look that alluring.

He’s trying to plan his next trial at the kitchen table but nooo. You were sitting on the couch in the living room, wearing your new dress. You were steady scrolling on your phone, probably laughing at some cute animal videos.

Dent would absolutely kill someone if they got in the way of your smile. He wouldn’t even need to flip a coin on it.

Harvey would look down and try to focus on his list of defendants he had lined up, and some places he planned to raid. Those will probably have to happen next week, he found a quite a few rats in his gang. Plus his boys caught one of Penguin’s higher ups that could spill some hot info…

You laughed. You tried to cover it up, but failed pretty miserably. You started typing away on your phone. Your award-winning smile still plastered on your face.

Damnit…who did his boys catch?

Harvey got up and leaned against the beam that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Hey…gorgeous…”

You immediately perked your head up. “Oh, hey Harvey, how’s work going?”

“Ah, it’s going, could be going a lot faster though…”

“Really? How so?”

“If you could maybe go to the bedroom and hang out there…” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, not sure how else to tell you to leave.

“Oh, am I annoying you?”

“No, no, far from it, doll.” He went up to you and got down on his knees. He took your hands in his and placed them on top of your knees.

“You’re just, you always look so beautiful, but today you look…particularly…well gorgeous. And it’s really hard for me to focus…”

“Harvey Dent are you accusing me of being too pretty?” You jested, teasingly shoved him in his chest.

“Afriad I am, doll. Luckily for you, I’ve already got a plea deal to offer you.”

“Even for a repeat offender like me?” You coyishly inquired, pretending to be worried about actually being charged with a crime.

“Especially for you, if you can spend some time alone in another room, and it can be anywhere, but where I am…I won’t have to charge you for distracting me.”

“What do the charges entail, Mr. Dent?” You crossed your arms.

“You don’t wanna know, doll. Just take my advice and I’ll make it worth your while.” Harvey winked.

“Hm.” You stood up, almost knocking Harvey back on his haunches. “I suppose I’ll take your advice…this time, but I’ll hold you to that offer of making it worth my while.”

Harvey laughed. “Sure thing, sweetness. Just please, I can’t be a victim to your radiance for much longer…”

“Oh shush, I’m leaving, I’m leaving!”

#batman rogues #batman rogues x reader #riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #the penguin x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #the scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #dc the mad hatter x reader #jervis tetch x reader #dc two-face x reader #two face x reader #harvey dent x reader #ri writes

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shibaraki · 2 years

Text

WHERE WE LEFT OFF ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

tags: GN reader, reader is an underground hero, pro hero deku (taller than reader), reunions, fluff, so much mutual pining, long distance friendships, past liked-each-other-and-never-did-anything-about-it relationship, hopeful ending

wc: 1.9k

Knowing that Izuku is back from America and seeing it with your own eyes are two different things.

You heard through word of mouth — said mouth belonging to one Todoroki Shouto — that he had returned to the country quietly. No welcoming party, no open arms at the airport. Deku came home, and he got to work.

It’s unexpected that you run into him. Integrating back into the Japanese hero system would take time, and no doubt he’d be kept criminally busy for the first few months. So when you happen to stumble upon him during a detour from your own patrol route, you do, admittedly, consider diving back over the roofs edge.

The last you saw of Izuku had been the day he left. Still boyish. Youthful cheeks, red and damp with tears, blubbering as he grins back at you through the terminal doors. At the start, keeping in touch came naturally. There’d been a sense of determination to keep the nebulous, intimate connection you’d built together in your clutches.

But as with anything, it lessened as the months passed. Schedules and time zones misaligned. Calls that ran to voicemail and texts left unanswered. It wasn’t something you faulted him for, but watching the budding leaves you’d so steadily tended to begin to wither left behind a sense of mourning you hadn’t known what to do with.

Green. Staring at the expanse of his back, much broader than you remember, you feel the ache in your sternum like an old wound in cold weather. Always there, whether you are cognisant of it or not. Deku irreversibly touched everyone he met, such was his nature.

You keep your breathing shallow, still frozen in place at the far ledge of the rooftop. This was one of your usual break spots — it was only a little ways off from your circuit, and mostly surrounded by neglected construction sites. Opposite is what will eventually be a multi-storey office building, braced by heavy scaffolding and half adorned in double sided reflective windows.

Izuku is seated directly across, staring at himself. His expression is melancholy. You can see it, albeit hazy at this distance. A gloved hand combs through the moss coloured mess atop his head, brow furrowing when it doesn’t stay in place.

One step and you’d be in the line of sight. A figure lingering precariously behind him. You’ve been arguing with yourself for so long that announcing your presence feels uncomfortable. Embarrassing. It would be easy to walk away, descend the side of the building and pretend you never saw him.

But he’s here; far from the agency you know he’s been assigned to. And why is that?

Your eyes catch on movement in the reflection. Signature bright red boots fitted with black bracers, kicking back and forth restlessly. As if he were waiting for someone.

A little kindling of hope sidles alongside your anxiety. Thaws it until your heart settles. Maybe he was here to see you. Maybe was all you needed.

A deep inhale. Rolling the tension from your shoulders, you call out to him as you jump down from the ledge, “Don’t ya know this spot’s taken?”

Izuku startles, first finding your form in the mirrors before whipping around on unstable brick to meet your gaze, catching himself before he slips. A smile pulls at your lips, and syrupy warmth gathers in your chest as he visibly brightens at the sight of you.

Beaming, pink flowering on his cheeks. Green suit dirtied by the morning shift, hair vibrant and untamed. Perhaps the flora hadn’t withered; it only needed a little sun.

“I was counting on it,” he grins. You intend to join him where he’s seated, but in your approach he begins to turn. Hooking each leg back over onto solid ground, he pushes up to stand and meet you halfway. The muscles flex beneath his suit, thick and powerful from ankle to hip, solid stripes of black accentuating his waist.

Your tongue sits heavily in your mouth. He’d grown into himself nicely before he left, but it is nothing compared to the size of him now. “Hi,” Izuku practically bounds over to you in two abrupt motions, pausing with the uncertainty of how he’ll be received, but ultimately overwhelmed by the urge to hug you.

The art had once been lost on him. Izuku adored his friends but throughout your entire first year in high school he’d been unfamiliar with casual touch. He never knew where to place his hands, how tight to squeeze or how long to linger. You recall fondly just how wooden he was.

But everything evolves with exposure and practice. Come graduation, he’d mastered it; more endearingly, Izuku became something of a fiend for affection. Generous with how he gave it, selfish in how he received it. Gone was the incessant worry that fed his insecurities— you would be held for as long as you both wanted. Should he pull away too soon, all you’d need to do is clutch slightly at the back of his t-shirt and he would resume without question.

Now tucked into the crook of his neck, Izuku noses gently at your temple. You can hardly fathom how natural it still feels, to have every ounce of him pressed into every ounce of you. When your arms tighten around his back he responds in kind, breathing slowed, the synchronous sway your bodies so subtle you barely notice it.

Again, low and breathless, “Hi”. He speaks as if he can hardly believe you’re here.

“Hello stranger,” you murmur, the words pulled into a fond drawl as your muscles sag in his embrace. The morning had been long. The years of absence had been longer. Izuku makes no indication of letting go, so you stay.

“Didn’t think I’d find you on this side of the city so soon”.

Timorous laughter vibrates where his lips barely meet your skin, and you watch the bob of his throat as he swallows. “Well— Hitoshi legally couldn’t release your patrol routes to me, but he did hint that you usually stopped here on your breaks”.

You hide a grin against the dip of his collar, “And you couldn’t just text me because…?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he quickly insisted, only to deflate with his next breath. “And I guess I was nervous to reach out”.

That gets your attention, and his grip lessens. “Why?” you tilt, nudging the sensitive underside of his jaw as you lean back to get a good look at him, “it’s just little old me”. He flusters under your scrutiny, pupils darting back and forth across the expanse of the barren roof. Thinking of something to say.

You wait. Autumn chill wraps around your bodies and the silence stretches thin. Though, with Izuku, there is never a true sense of silence. An inaudible hum to smother his anxiety, the click of his knuckles as he fidgets, a stream of consciousness so rich it pours from his mouth without his notice.

“I've been a bad friend,” he eventually blurts. “I haven’t called in so long— and I did miss you! But after a while hearing your voice just made me sad”.

No spare minute is afforded for you to process his outburst. As soon as the confession meets air, a grimace stitches itself into his features and he begins to ramble.

“You don’t make me sad! Wow, that sounded terrible didn’t it? This is why I stopped—”

“Izuku!” with your hand cupped over his mouth, you’re reminded again of the first time you’d touched him with such familiarity. He exhales woodenly through his nose, warmth ghosting over your knuckles.

“You’re overthinking. It’s alright, I… I know what you mean,” and you do. Your overarching feelings towards Izuku would always be love, and pride. But there was yearning in the spaces between seconds, in the night after a call had long ended. A striking whiplash of loneliness.

Your disparate relationship with Izuku had been a plentiful source of lighthearted teasing from your classmates. No doubt, endless suggestive comments and speeches of encouragement had been fed to him just as often. But neither of you ever took that step forward, braving something more. At the time you were content, happy to tentatively play the mellifluous limbo between friendship and lover.

It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when the sound of his voice stopped being enough.

He meets your gaze. You feel the fleeting brush of a tongue against your palm as he reflexively wets his lips. “I think we’re both pretty bad at being friends,” you rasp, enjoying the heat beneath your fingers where it resides in the swell of his cheeks.

A wistful smile, and you let go, “We always have been”.

He watches you then, with open understanding. Still kept loosely in his hold, your hand returns to his chest where you remain supported. Anticipation coils low in your belly as he dips forward, a cautious motion that brings your foreheads together, a hairs breadth away from kissing him.

But in a comically cruel fashion, the moment is interrupted. Izuku’s eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment as the loud, unmistakable sound of his stomach rumbling cuts through the growing tension.

As is par for the course, you think. Laughter bubbles in your chest until you can’t hide it any longer, slumping into his shoulder to smother it. But it builds, and as you realise he is shaking with restraint of his own, it bursts.

Izuku’s arms cinch around your waist, bowed forward as he laughs. Even with his face nestled awkwardly against your throat, the sound is bright and infectious. This might be what you missed the most.

Your breathing stutters, blinking away the sting of tears. There’s an ache in your jaw and a spasm behind your ribs. He rocks you side to side as his laughter tapers, quieting into an amused hum.

Following the path of his spine, you stroke from nape to tailbone; when he straightens up, you ignore the blatant shudder. “Haven’t you eaten yet?”

He sniffs, sheepishly scratching the bridge of his nose as it wrinkles. Cute. “I ate a riceball before I got here”.

“Dummy. That’s not enough for your big boy hero diet and you know it,” you temper your grin, swatting lightly at his arm and stepping away from the embrace. A fleeting look of grief flashes across his face that you barely catch.

You understand. The warmth of his hold still lingers, phantom limbs wrapped around your torso. Part of you wants to curl up, just to preserve it a little while longer. So, you reach for him, and he preens.

“Lucky for you, I know a nice little store right around the corner that sells the best bentos,” fingers tightening around his gloved wrist, you encourage him to follow, “Hurry up, I don’t have long left!”

Izuku grins, his enthusiasm manifesting in sparks of viridian lightning. Your heart flutters as he rushes ahead, breaking into a jog towards the edge of the roof. At most, your reunion so far had only been around ten minutes long, and there is no certainty that the comms will stay silent for the remainder of your break.

Still, it’s enough. It’s ten more minutes in the sun.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #deku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader

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lesbianwriter · 1 year

Text

Part two

“I mean, I get the rehabilitation thing—giving second chances and that stuff—but why me? Why do they have to be in my house?” Hero asked, looking down at the file with a frown.

Superhero took a sip of his drink, smiling at the waitress and asking for a refill before finally paying notice to Hero. “Villain’s docile. We think. She doesn’t talk much, she doesn’t do much…we figure she’s the best for this experiment. And you, dear Hero,” he paused to take a bite of his food, purposefully taking longer in a way he knew irritated Hero, “were chosen because you’re an understanding person—a good hero. You won’t be tempted to do anything bad to her because of her past.”

“I don’t want to let a stranger—a villain at that,” she added, whispering and leaning closer across the table, “into my home. That’s unsafe. Yeah, I don’t intend to hurt anyone, but that doesn’t mean I want them in my house.”

“Hero, everything will be cared for.” He assured. “All you have to do is train her and give her a room to sleep in. We pay for food, water, all that. And if she does end up a threat to you or anyone else’s safety…there are measures to keep her in line.” He slid a remote across the table.

Hero stared at it in shock…and a little horror, too. “What does that do?”

“Nothing bad—it’s a little beep in her ear that gets louder the longer you hold it. The staff have barely had to use it on her. We believe she isn’t a bad person at heart, but was simply roped into this and ended up with the wrong people.”

“That’s poetic and all but she’s still a villain. If you want to rehabilitate her, I’m fine with that, I don’t care, I think people should have second chances, but I don’t want to be the one handing out those chances at my expense.”

She leaned back in her chair, the plastic squeaking behind her.

When Superhero said he’d take her to dinner, she was foolish enough to think for all her hard work, he’d take her somewhere nice—somewhere where all the food on the menu didn’t come with a free side of grease, grease, and more grease. Superhero wore a suit to work, had a meticulously trimmed silver mustache, and spoke in a voice that would be in a mystery audiobook. Finding him seated in his suit tie at an obnoxiously yellow chair in the center of a diner had been quite the juxtaposition, to say the least. It had been clearly done to annoy her, that much was obvious by the grin on his face as she sat down.

The setting was the cherry on top of the other news he was delivering—Hero was in charge of rehabilitating a villain.

That didn’t exactly put her in a stellar mood either.

Villains were people too, that she could recognize, and sure they deserved a shot to try again, but her job was to capture them and to bring them to justice. She did that. She did it well. Her job wasn’t to play therapist for some troubled criminal.

Superhero smiled at her disdain. “You should give her a chance. I doubt she’ll bother you—everybody thinks she’s mute.”

“Is she?”

“That’s undetermined.” He hummed. “Read her file a bit more, get to know her, and she’ll be dropped off tonight.”

“Do I get her a bed?” Hero looked down at the file in her hands, absently reading over the more mundane snippets of information. “Wait—“ the sudden thought hit like a brick, making her reel back a moment. “Does she have a power?”

She glanced around, but the diner was mostly empty. The waitress was only just now coming back with Superhero’s refill.

Naturally, he smiled at her and made small talk while Hero waited for a response, grinding her teeth.

“Yes, but it’s undetermined.”

“What else about her is undetermined?”

“Quite a lot.” He sipped his drink casually, eyeing Hero a fraction more seriously. “Look, Hero, I’m going to be serious when I tell you that you were chosen for this because I believe you can do this. You have a caring heart, deep down beneath your cynicism. There’s a lot we don’t know about her—we don’t know her past, her powers, or anything much—but we can change her future. I see a promise in her.”

“I’ll remind you of this when I end up stabbed in my sleep.” Hero muttered. She breathed in through her nose, and exhaled heavily. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice about this. “About the bed? Do I have to buy one?”

“Do you have a spare bed?”

“It’s a crumby old futon, but technically, it can function as a bed.”

“That’ll work—she’ll have a blanket and a pillow, so don’t worry about that part.” He stood up, wiping his fingers on a napkin.

“I’m worried about being murdered in my own home.” Hero argued fruitlessly, her too wiping her hands on a napkin, despite not having touched her food.

“Give her a chance, Hero. I believe she can be good if she has the opportunity. I see the same spark in her that I saw in you.”

———

True to his word, Villain showed up on Hero’s doorstep later that night.

Hero’s first impression was that Villain certainly looked the part of a silent hermit. She was short, accentuated further by how her head hung low, and her eyes were downcast so much so that Hero couldn’t catch a glimpse of her eye color. She hung awkwardly in the foyer upon arrival, holding her meager luggage like an unwelcome relative showing up for the holidays.

Hero cleared her throat. “I can show you where you’ll be sleeping, if you want to set your stuff down before we…talk.”

Minutes before Villain was left at her door, he called to inform her that the procedure would be to have an informed discussion about the rules, expectations, and such and such before anything happened—pretending that either person in the situation actually had a choice.

Villain stared silently, but eventually gave a small nod.

“Are you capable of talking?”

Stiffly, Villain froze up for a minute, but nodded, stray strands of hair falling loose into her face.

Hero’s immediate instinct was to ask—why don’t you talk then?—but that would be too hopeful for a verbal response.

“Okay then.”

After the awkward beginning, Hero took her new trainee upstairs.

And, as Superhero said, Villain was docile. She didn’t make sudden movements. Every twitch, every bend of her fingers, every turn of her head seemed oddly meticulous. Suddenly, the idea of her having the sound device seemed useless because Villain didn’t do much of anything, much less resist. Hero got to merely stand off to the side and watch listlessly as Villain set her few belongings on the futon.

Though, it also made her skin prickle, preparing for when it would snap and Villain would whip around and attack.

———

Back downstairs, Hero sat on the couch across from Villain, explaining the rules of her stay and how her training would function.

“Do you understand?” She questioned, mostly to fill the silence in the room.

Villain nodded, her hands clasped in her lap.

“Okay…good. I’m Hero. What’s your name?”

Of course, Hero knew her name—she had, unfortunately, done as Superhero said and read the whole thing—but she wanted to try to get her strange new ‘roommate’ to talk. However, the attempt proved unsuccessful when all Villain offered in response was a blank stare.

Hero grimaced, but tried to nod reassuringly. “You don’t have to talk right away, but it’d be good if you could say something in case you need help or anything like that…no pressure.”

It felt like she was applying pressure.

This situation painfully reminded Hero why none of her friends came to her for comfort—they came for brutally honest advice that they needed to hear.

Unsurprisingly, Villain stayed silent and went to bed a few minutes later.

Hero warned Villain before she locked the door, and then she went back downstairs to eat dinner. Usually, she was alone in her house, but now she wasn’t alone…it felt stiff, as if the air had gone stale because of the presence of another person—a villain that Hero had never met before.

It made her lose much of her appetite, so she put the leftovers in the fridge and cleaned off her plate a little earlier than normal.

She needed the rest, anyhow.

The next day would be a long day—the first of a new mission always was—and rehabilitation programs were especially difficult because of how fragile they were. Hero could only hope she wouldn’t wake up with a knife to her throat.

#hero x villain #redemption arc #villain x hero #heroes and villains #my writing #sapphic

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detachedminxsfics · 1 year

Text

Bad Romance

Masterlist

Characters: Comedian x Vigilante F!Reader

Summary: You and Eddie have been making eyes at each other for a while now, and tonight he decides that playful flirting is no longer enough.

Word count: 3.6K

Warnings: NSFW - Dub-con (eventual consent), period typical misogyny, rough sex, choking, brief dry humping, dom/sub dynamic, creampie, Eddie's filthy mouth, shotgunning, public sex

A/N: Yes, I named this after Lady Gaga's song because I saw this one edit of The Comedian on tiktok to it and I can't stop thinking about it.

Space. That was what you needed. Sometimes it felt like he could pin you against the wall with just the look in his eyes, the long, lustrous stares making it feel as though you were fucking each other with just that. The way he would lean in as close as physically possible when he spoke to you or came up from behind you, and the smoke of his cigar would wisp and swirl beside your head, clouding your peripheral. Or the times when you would be trying to gain control of the chaos in the streets and he'd get carried away as he typically did, his usually brutish heavy blows to some poor civilian's skull only growing increasingly violent if he caught you staring at him, nearly beating the man half to death as he got caught up with the sight of you. The tension was thick between the two of you, and tonight was no different. Being a lady in these times meant you were expected to fight in far less armour and clothing than the boys, something to which he often took notice of.

"Hey, sweetheart." Eddie whispered, quiet enough for any prying eyes or ears to not hear.

You rolled your eyes a little as he rounded you after emerging from your side, coming to stand in front of you with a cigar pushed between his lips. You weren't sure why he was so persistent, but make no mistake, it wasn't love. Edward Blake didn't love anything or anyone other than himself. Given his cold nature, you arrived at the conclusion it was more of a possessive and authoritative desire to have you, with no intention of pursuing anything of real worth afterward. And honestly, in your weaker moments, you often found yourself fantasising about the parameters of that arrangement.

"Hey, Eddie." You mumbled, leaning over and adjusting the narrow bands of fabric on your thighs that were fastened to your stockings.

The moment you finished fiddling with them, and straightened your back intending to politely meet his eye as he spoke to you, you felt the calloused pads of his fingers dig into the top of your thigh.

"This is definitely your colour." He remarked teasingly, still balancing his cigar between his lips.

His thumb smoothed over the garter, and your whole body tensed. You hoped nobody was looking, because the way he was humiliating you so publically, touching you like you were some whoreish display, was appalling. You stepped back to break the contact, and Eddie chuckled as you recoiled from him.

"Damn it Eddie, get your hands off me." You tried to keep the volume of your voice low, not trying to cause any sort of unwanted commotion and make a scene.

Usually, it was passing flirtatious comments or heated moments, but this was the first time he had gotten particularly handsy. It wasn't that you were necessarily opposed to the idea of being intimate with him, his rugged handsomeness undeniable when he flashed those pearly whites with a dirty smile; but he was cruel. Eddie's hands were bloodied with the countless lives he had taken, just for the fun of it, and because everything was one massive joke to him. On the spectrum of vigilantism, Edward Blake crossed the line of total criminal, kept going only by the media's reassurances that his actions were driven by patriotism, thus branding him as some kind of twisted all-American dream. Delivering justice one murder at a time, as if any of the things Eddie did were really for the greater good.

After backing up and scolding him for treating you so impetuously his eyes narrowed for a moment, as though he was trying to make sense of what it was that just made you so resistant to his curt, manly charms. Then the frustration began to set into his features, and you could feel him practically restraining himself from telling you just how much your rejection vexed him. This man was too much, the weight of him and all that he was crashing over you for the hundredth time, and the havoc he wrought upon your morals. Though most would argue heroism is subjective, you believed you could tell right from wrong. And Eddie? He was just damn wrong. You turned and left wordlessly, a pace in your steps encompassing just how much you truly needed to be anywhere but here, anywhere so long as it was somewhere without him. The double doors flung open allowing a gust of cool air to sting your bare skin, but you'd brave the frost of the evening if only to be away from him. To be alone. You rested your back against the brick wall, allowing the unrelenting chill to work through your spine, and tipped your head back, eyes closed as you craved to wander in a place of peace for just a moment or two. A Comedian-free zone, as it were. You were granted that for a sweet, short while, and then reality overcame you in one word.

"Hey." Eddie's confrontational tone wouldn't go unnoticed.

Hesitantly, you opened your eyes to stare back into the bottomless chocolate hue of his irises, the whites of his eyes only further brought out by the smouldering black mask that circled them.

"I've had enough for tonight, Eddie. Please, just go back inside." You were trying to keep as level-headed as possible but couldn't help the impatient hint to your words.

It only riled him further, and he stormed towards you in determined, large strides in no time. You instinctively backed yourself against the wall to put any kind of space between the two of you, anything but the alternative, but to no avail. His body pinned you against the wall, and you hissed slightly at the way he mushed you with the coarse brick pressing in against your back. Eddie was built like a linebacker, broad-shouldered, and in sickeningly good shape. It was something you might have been able to appreciate if it weren't for the fact that it meant you were shit out of luck when it came to getting out from underneath him, or beating him in hand-to-hand combat. You were screwed.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, baby. C'mon, we both know that you've wanted this for a while now. You been givin' me fuck me eyes since the moment we met."

As he accused you of employing the supposedly womanly wiles he was so sure of, his hands moved up to grip your hips, a slight wince escaping your lips as you knew the bruises that would later form.

"God, what the hell's gotten into you?"

You attempted to wedge your hands between your bodies, hoping to slam your hands against the solid leather plating decorating his chest, and failed miserably. Eddie used his hold over your hips to draw your lower half against his groin, his head burrowing into your neck to suck and nip at the skin between his teeth as he began to grind, creating inconceivably obscene friction that had you threatening to give in. His stubble scratched along your jaw, and his subtle groans mixed with your own unsteady, hitched breaths. It took everything in you not to move against him, not to return his ministrations, but you sure as hell found your strength. In a quick, deliberate movement you reached up and gathered the hair at the back of his head in your hand, making sure you'd gotten an effective fistful before yanking, hard. The force was enough to swing his head back, and he grimaced at the painful sensation searing through his scalp, recovering far quicker than you'd anticipated just as you were about to clock him in the jaw. He caught your wrist expertly and swung you back against the brick, the back of your head colliding with the wall and allowing a deep, tender pressure to work through your skull, the world around you seeming to darken with the gradual enclosing border of your vision. Just as you began to fathom the ache seeping into your head you felt the feeling of fingers digging into the underside of your jaw, gripping along the line that met your throat. Lack of oxygen worsened your already hazy vision, your gasps for air barely acknowledged as you heard the click of him undoing his belt.

"Y'know, you putting up a fight is just gonna make me harder." He drawled between his chuckles, a smirk of triumph plastered across his lips.

You tried to free yourself from his hold, but your futile attempt resulted in nothing but squirms that had you asphyxiating yourself against the grasp on your throat. The fingers of his free hand ran down the top of your thigh, caressing your skin before his fingertips passed over the lace trim of your stockings. He rolled some of the material between his thumb and index finger before drawing it back and releasing it, snapping the elastic against your skin.

"I'm the real reason you dress like this, aren't I baby? You been trying to get my attention?"

"Fuck you." You spat, your not-so-ladylike mouth resulting in him turning you around and hiking up the fabric of the mini skirt you wore for your costume.

He was not so considerate when it came to your panties, fingers delving into the back of your thong and ripping them clean off, the sound carrying through the uneasily silent evening air. You hissed at the cold rush between your thighs, unable to feel the full extent of the icy harshness as his hands took hold of both your hips, forcibly angling you into a sleazy arch. Eddie wedged his boot between the small space inbetween your stilettos, hooking over your heel so he could slide your feet apart, thus spreading your legs. You flatten your palms against the brick in an attempt to brace yourself, but nothing could have prepared you for that. Eddie lined himself up and then slammed inside you with one rough thrust, sinking all of him into you mercilessly as you let out a humiliating whine. You wanted to despise him for the man he was, the unforgivable things he has done, and yet, it was like nothing else mattered. You knew it was wrong that he felt like you were his for the taking, that there would be nothing more than a dirty secret between the two of you afterwards, but quite frankly you could care less. The start of a series of surprisingly slow thrusts was your undoing, every movement threatening to buckle your knees, and the filthy moans that began to pass your lips. With one hand left clutching your hip, the other moved to your front, his large hand cupping your clothed breast. Then you felt the hard leather of his chest plate press against your back, and the sound of his low, heavy breaths blowing just past your ear.

"That's what I fucking thought. You like this, huh?"

He finished his sentence with a hard thrust, the sensation of fullness leaving you breathless, and allowing the brick grazing one side of your face as he kept you pinned against the wall to become something of an afterthought.

"Please, Eddie. Oh, fuck."

He rested his forehead against the nape of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as you could practically hear his righteous smirk, even feel that shit-eating grin pressed against your skin. Then, he brought himself all the way out before slamming back inside, the snap of his hips making you curse. If anyone were to pass by, a car or a simple pedestrian, they would find arguably one of the most notorious headlining vigilantes in New York City balls deep in one of his team members, and you'd never be able to live it down. Eddie loved that you were vulnerable, however. He loved the position of power he had over you, and he savoured the way his name rolled off your tongue, the way you moaned for him.

Without warning he removed himself from you and impatiently flipped you to face him, allowing you to drink him in in all his glory. The illumination of a nearby streetlight faintly backlit him, his typically styled front strands of hair still curling magnificently at one side, and his darkened eyes boring into yours. The smell of the city permeated the bitter air, the familiar scent of car fumes wafting through the street, and then him. His aroma consisted primarily of cigars, something that didn't come as much of a surprise considering you had barely ever seen him without one, the smoke always dancing in front of his face or leaving a momentary trail as he walked before dispersing. This very moment had to be the longest you had seen him without one. The fact that a man this nihilistic could look so striking was nauseating, depraved even. You knew Eddie wasn't the type for this sort of touch, and that he may deject it entirely, but you couldn't help yourself. You smashed your lips against his, and sensed his surprise for a moment or two, before he returned the movements with his own. His stubble was scratching along your chin as he moved his hands from your hips and took hold of the underside of your thighs, cupping just below your ass. He hoisted you up without a hint of struggle, holding you as though you weighed nothing, and entered you once more. You whimpered against his greedy lips, and he groaned against yours, the scarlet shade of your lipstick surely smearing messily over both of your lips.

"You feel so damn good, babygirl." He muttered between kisses, both stealing your air and breathing it back into your mouth with hoarse grunts.

For a split second you allowed naivety to wash over you, the idea that you were something more to him than a pretty face, something other than a way to alleviate the bulge that strained at his pants every time he laid eyes on you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, closing your thighs around his hips and letting him bury himself inside you over and over, his ruthless thrusts growing progressively harder and rougher. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts, your fingers combing through his hair and being careful not to ruffle the way Eddie kept it. It didn't take long for the pace he set to become unbearable, your head tipping back whilst you mewled from the pressure building in your abdomen, your walls clenching around him and making him take a sharp breath inward.

With your throat bare to him, he rushed to start marking you again, his lips assaulting your skin in a wild purposeful frenzy. Eddie knew what he was doing. Every kiss and bruise he made, every contusion in the shades of blues and violets left in the path of his lips only fulfilled him that much more, stroking his vast ego. Eddie didn't want you to ever be able to find another man that could make you feel like this again, that could fuck you right out in the street in the middle of the night like he could. The last thing you had ever wanted was a man like Edward Blake, the thought of craving and needing such a cold callous man having never crossed your mind, and yet you had this dread working through your body, a fear that you would never be able to go without him. Your thoughts were interrupted by the trembling of your legs, your whole body burning with a heat so intense that all you could do was wait for him to relieve you, the teeth you dug into your bottom lip the only thing left stopping you from begging him to.

"That's it, you gonna cum for me baby?" He husked.

You lifted your head and found yourself barely able to breach a word through your quickened, unsteady breaths, eventually managing to muster a frantic nod in response that would have to suffice. Eddie's release seemed to be nearing too, his forehead coated with the perspiration of the sweat he'd broken into despite the chill carrying through the nocturnal breeze, and his thrusts growing impossibly vigorous. You couldn't take it any longer, your whole body quivering with the waves of pleasure that crashed over you, the overwhelming sensation heightening your senses. He held you against him throughout and only continued to work you through it with pitiless thrusts, before his release washed over him. Eddie's throat rumbled with the most guttural of sounds as he released hot, wet spurts inside of you, his sounds of pleasure ultimately dying down to leave you both with nothing but the sound of your agonisingly heavy breaths, and the distant sound of gentle wind passing through Manhattan's streets. He was stilled for a brief moment just to catch his breath, not that he had much breath or composure to chase with stamina like his, and then prompted you to unwrap your legs from him with a pat on the side of your thigh, his other hand still cupping your ass. You did, unwrapping your legs from him and then your arms whilst setting your heels down on the concrete, steadying yourself on your shaky legs. Eddie tucked himself back into his pants and put his large tactical belt back on with a click, meanwhile, you shamefully unrolled your skirt from where it had gathered at your hips. In the underwear department, you were utterly commando thanks to Eddie's carelessness, whereas Eddie looked as though he'd just gone for a walk, asshole.

"Well, thanks for that, doll." He murmured as he retrieved a lighter.

Though a crass way of doing so, he was trying to flatter you somehow.

"Just, keep this between you and me, okay? Things are hard enough without everybody knowing I dropped my panties for The Comedian."

He chuckled and retrieved a fresh cigar, balancing it between his lips as he held the flame of the lighter towards it, the embers roaring aflame and smoke bellowing out almost immediately. With every passing second you'd further feel the extent of the way Eddie handled you, the bruises most likely having already begun to form, and your neck undoubtedly littered with vicious marks. You craved the feel of your bed beneath your spine, the night having been a whole lot more eventful than you'd anticipated, the balls of your feet sore from having been in heels for so long. With your new desired destination of home, you leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on his stubbled cheek, smiling a little as you turned to start the journey home. You took one step when he closed his hand around your wrist and brought you back, turning you to face him again.

"Hey, I think we're a little past that, don't you think? C'mere."

You weren't sure what he was referring to for a moment, and then you felt fingers taking hold of your jaw. He closed the cigar between his index and middle finger with his free hand, inhaling before he removed it from his lips and pressed his lips against yours. Your lips parted wantonly, enabling him to breathe the cigar smoke into your mouth and taste the tobacco on his lips, even down to the liquor on his tongue. The combination had you infatuated, and you had to suppress the urge to ask him for round two when he parted his lips from yours, the warmth of his mouth dying on your lips.

"That's better." Eddie muttered, the hold on your jaw quickly shifting to an oddly gentle hand cupping your cheek.

He smoothed his thumb over a particular area of your cheekbone, and you slightly winced, the sensation suggesting that you'd grazed one side of your face when he'd been pinning you against the brick. Your reaction brought a smile to his lips, considering what it was that you'd received your injuries from. Not entirely sure he'd noticed his rather comical appearance you decided to show him a little compassion, raising your hand and brushing your thumb along his lips in an attempt to wipe off the lipstick you'd smeared over his mouth, and he let you. You thought you'd leave the faint kiss mark on his cheek though, it was hardly revenge when you knew a man such as himself would be happy to sport it as a badge of honour when someone pointed it out, the mark of a lady.

"There, now it doesn't look as much like you got in a fight with some lipstick." You finished your sentence with a small giggle before leaning back, to which Eddie removed his hand from your cheek.

"Okay, now I really gotta go."

He nodded and brought the cigar back to his lips, the smoke tangling in the air and occasionally surrounding him like some kind of makeshift fog. Without warning Eddie reached around you and gave your ass a playful spank, his lips curling into a grin around his cigar from your slightly surprised reaction. If you thought he was a handful before, things were about to get a whole lot worse.

"Night, doll."

He turned on his heel and left, leaving you alone in the unforgiving evening chill, and covered with the marks of his rough treatment. You supposed it best you get used to this feeling, as you suspected you'd be encountering it again sometime soon.

No, you were sure of it.

#jeffrey dean morgan #the comedian #edward blake #watchmen #thecomediansmut #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #thecomedian x reader #edwardblake x reader #watchmen 2009

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