#so fucking watch yourself and who you try and spin to be your enemy

[rainydayathogwarts]

James Potter - Jealousy, jealousy

Summary: You kiss Lucius to make James jealous since he was too slow at making a move... wc: 800 ish

James thought that the best way to approach a new relationship - or rather the girl he liked - was by taking it slow. At least, that was the lesson he'd learned with Lily, who got easily tired of his attempts to woo her. But now, as he sat with Remus and Sirius in the Room of Requirements, the party blasting around them, he realised that maybe that wasn't what you wanted.

How did he know?

Well, one could argue that by the way you had your hand on Lucius Malfoy's chest, your own chest brushing up against his while you fluttered your eyes at him, you preferred that men had a more straight-forward approach with you. "Mate you've got to stop staring that hard." Commented Sirius, handing him another drink. James mumbled something incoherent under his breath, interrupted by Remus adding on "You're going to burn holes right through her tits." James broke his gaze from you, turning abruptly to look at Remus "I'm not staring at her tits, I just- I know she likes me back so why? Why him?"

He barely heard Marlene laugh from beside him, patting his shoulder with fake sympathy "Oh yeah, I wonder, why him? It's almost as though she's trying to make you jealous or something." She paused while watching James' face, and when she got no look of realisation from it, she sighed, continuing "You know, because you hate him?"

James shook his head "No, she wouldn't do that." There was a moment of silence during which a soundless conversation between Marlene and Remus was taking place. James saw Marlene shrug her shoulders at Remus from the corner of his eye, spinning on her heels and walking away from the three boys, leaving the problem solving to them. He furrowed his eyebrows, watching as the hand you had on Lucius's chest begun to trail upwards until it rested on the nape of his neck. With horror, his eyes followed Lucius's hand which dragged up your side to rest on your jaw, keeping your head tilted upwards to look at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

It was as though everything went in slow motion, the music tuning out and the background blurring, James's gaze only set on you and Lucius fucking Malfoy, who was now lowering his face down so he could press his lips against yours. James could almost hear the satisfactory sigh you let out as you got onto your tippy toes, pressing yourself up against his mortal enemy.

Remus's pat on the back was almost enough to make up for Sirius's loud pitiful groan, but the embarrassment of the situation had him marching straight up to you and Malfoy, who he shoved away from you with full force. You squealed in shock, looking at Lucius, who had taken a tumble to the ground and back at James whose eyes were burning with rage and jealousy. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop a smile from spreading on your face, instead looking up at the boy with doe eyes. "Out, now." Lucius was now stood up, frantically brushing his hair out of his eyes, but before he could retaliate at James, you were halfway across the room, blindly following him out into the dimly lit hallway.

On your way out, you caught Remus's eye, and he grinned at you, shaking his head in fake disapproval. Once you were alone in the hallway, you barely got the chance to look up at James before he was mimicking his earlier actions towards Lucius on you, pushing you against the wall so he could kiss you roughly. You moaned in shock, hands instantly travelling to the back of James's neck so you could pull him closer while returning the kiss.

James was panting when he pulled away from you, his big hands on your shoulders, pressing you against the wall to keep you from stepping closer to him. "Now fucking explain to me why you were kissing Lucius Malfoy." Your jaw went slack at the dominance in James' usually light-hearted voice and you stuttered, nearly forgetting about your plan to play dumb. "I don't- I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah Potter," A voice interrupted, making you both turn around to face it. "If she wants to go around kissing me, I think we should all let her." Continued Lucius, stepping deeper into the corridor. You sighed, turning back to face James, whose hands were still on you, but was facing Lucius with a look of disgust on his face. You knew what you had to do. You put your hands on James's face so he instinctively looked at you, and you pulled him forward so you could kiss him again, effectively getting both Lucius away from you and James to forget that you were kissing him mere minutes ago.

#harry potter #hogwarts #gryffindor #rainydayathogwarts #james potter imagine #james x reader #james potter smut #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter #james potter one shot #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #hp marauders #marauders era #the marauders #marauders smut #remus imagine #remus lupin #sirius being sirius #sirius black #platonic #x reader #light angst #marauders x reader #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #marauders fluff

[redstarwriting]

hobie brown with a pink gf

hobie brown x badass pink!fem!reader hcs

request?: yes

request: “HI RED!!!! idk if you’ve done this already but i really wanna see what hobie would be like with a badass pink!gf. like she wears pink demonias nd stuff but can like hold her own yk? i hope this makes sense LMAO”

requested by: anon

warnings:  language, mentions of stealing, alluding to s*xual harassment from men, cops

a/n: omggg the only person i could think of with this request is chrissy chlapecka wearing her all pink outfits and telling everyone to hit men with their cars LMAO thank you for the request, anon🖤

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- givin me chrissy chlapecka vibes - he loves it - listen - if you have any type of distinct style or attitude going against what most people believe - or one that challenges any type of authority or societal beliefs - Hobie immediately respects you - doesn’t necessarily mean he will be best friends with you - but he respects people who he can see have that kind of rebellious “fuck the patriarchy” attitude - so when he saw you - all pink outfit - pink makeup - pink accessories - pink boots that look like they could kill a man - exactly what you intend with said boots btw - he respected it - especially since you seemed to be taking the stereotypical “girl color” (whatever the fuck that means) and putting a spin on it they wouldn’t like - and girl when he saw you kick some man’s ass - all pretty in pink? - he was like ooh yeah - oh she’s the one - he loves to steal anything and everything pink that he sees - all for you - and he does - this style you have is the definition of him saying “Wear whatever you want, I can fight.” - and in response - you just scoff - “I’ll wear whatever I want, I can fight.” - he loves it - he loves that you’re always ready to stomp someone’s face with your pretty little boots - the amount of time he’s actually had to hold you back is amazing - and he doesn’t hold you back because he thinks you won’t beat the person’s ass - or because he wants you to be the ”better person” or whatever the fuck that is - but because he doesn't want the piggies getting any ideas when it comes to you - he knows you can hold your own - but he can’t help but be a little protective of you - and he just doesn’t trust cops - they’d see you looking all pretty and try something - not on his watch - he’ll take over if there are cops around - but if it’s just a slimy man? - he’ll still be there, ready to step in and kill the guy at any time - but you can handle yourself - so he lets you handle yourself - he loves when you paint his nails for him - he has so many shades of pink nail polish now - and you’ll paint his nails all pink all the time - at first, he was kinda like hmmmmm am i gonna like this? - spoiler - he did - he still paints his nails black all the time but when you ask to put some pink in there he’s all for it - he doesn’t realize his flat is slowly becoming more and more pink as you start to move in - because he doesn’t necessarily care all that much - he really likes the color now - but when Gwen comments on it he’s like… oh yeah - “Hobie? Have you found a new love for the color pink?”   “What?”   “Your place. There’s so much pink in here.”   “Oh… (Y/n) and I are gettin’ serious. She’s been movin’ in. But yeah, I do fancy the color pink, now. What of it?” - he does have a favorite shade of pink that you wear - but he loves when you wear all pink - so he acts like he doesn’t have a favorite - but he’s bad at it - cause the minute you wear a bright obnoxious shade of pink? - he’s gone - he’s simpin - he’s in love - he will compliment you more than he already does - which is a lot - and have his hands all over you - needless to say you’ve incorporated that color into your wardrobe a lot more - he just loves your style - and your attitude - the two of you are the government’s worst enemy honestly - and even though you’re a badass - you don’t need a man or anyone for that matter - you have a soft spot for your anarchic asshole - and sometimes you just like to see him be the badass - cause he sure can be - you’re a “don’t fuck with us” couple - a “fuck around and find out” couple - and the two of you wouldn’t want it any other way <3

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#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown headcanons #spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spiderverse

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

Matt and Peter trying to see who can fuck you better but they both fuck you so good that you become a babbling mess

i meshed two requests together, this one as well as matt and peter fucking villain! reader :)) i had a lotta fun with this one, enjoy!

VIGILANTE SHIT- P.B PARKER & MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: Peter! Matt! x Vigilante Black Cat! Reader (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: SMUT, praise and degradation kink, mocking/ babying, petnames, teasing, swearing, mentions of blood/ violence (matt also bandages readers wound), bondage, dry humping, masturbation, breeding kink, man handling, overstim, fluff tho<33

"and i don't dress for villains, or for innocents.. i'm on my vigilante shit again. i don't start shit but i can tell you how it ends..."- vigilante shit, taylor swift

You had married the night.

It was your escape, your desires, your dreams. The stars were rings upon your fingers, the moon a shining spotlight through the clouds as you’d stalk your prey during the hunting hours.

You came alive in the darkness.

You felt like a burst of light, energy and power bursting through your veins. It was when you could take charge. When you could sneak up on people, make them fall to their knees and beg for salvation.

It was when you could get revenge on the people who deserved it most.

You had trained yourself to be a soldier. To have your guard up, to be alert and stealthy. The Black Cat, is what they had called you. You were quiet and flexible, getting in places the average person couldn't.

It was ideal for stealing.

“Stealing” things that didn't belong to the people who had stolen them in the first place. They didn't belong to the white, rich old men the prowled the upper parts of New York.

They didn't belong to the thugs and gangs in Hell's Kitchen either.

They belonged to you.

It was a waiting game, finding the right time to swoop in from your spot on the rooftops to scurry down and collect the goods. But it was one you were willing to play. You had played many games since your time on the streets in the twilight hours, like cat and mouse.

Matt Murdock and Peter Parker were crawling on you like spiders, and you had run into them more times than you could count. As fast as they appeared, you had fled.

They had no idea who you were, but you had made headlines. The thief in the night. The media didn't know anything. They liked to spin and twist lies for their own benefit, so that things would sell and people would become frightened.

What they didn't know- is that you only stole from people who deserved it.

Your own version of justice.

And right now, the men you were watching from the alleyway deserved it. You had been watching the Pirus gang now for days, hiding behind old warehouse containers and perching yourself upon balconies and ledges to spy upon them and their dirty deeds that made your own hands feel greasy with grime.

They had something that belonged to you. You had noted the 18k gold ring getting pocketed between them, a ring that had been gifted to your mother before she had passed.

You didn't care about the imaginary price tag that was attached to it, like these crooks did. You didn’t care you could sell it and easily make a hundred thousand dollars, waving goodbye to student debt and mortgage rates. You just cared that it was in a safe, and valuable place.

Tucked away in the little vintage jewelry box she had gifted you before she took her final breaths on that old, creaking bed.

A growl ripped through your throat as you saw them flip it up like a coin, hearing their mutters about ‘thank god the bitch is dead’. They were just a leap away. With a push, you could jump down upon the pavement, ripping them to shreds with your claws.

You had been patient enough, a clock ticking in your head with each second that had passed where the ring wasn't in your possession.

The ring was an easy target, and you shifted your weight stealthy to propel your body forward.

It was all coming together. It was easy.

Almost too easy.

As you guided yourself, eye on the prize- a sharp jerk yanked you back. The breath was stolen from your lungs, your scream muffled as a hand was placed across your mouth.

“Shhhh. Not a word.” the low voice murmured in your ear, his warm breath making the hairs on your neck rise with anxiety as you struggled against his chokehold grip he held on you against his large, solid body.

You were brought back in through the large warehouse window you had so stupidly turned your back on, too focused on the activities below to realize what was going on behind you.

Who was behind you, for that matter. You twisted your foot to step on his own, but he avoided it, clearly trained in combat as he fought back against your contained fight.

“Don’t make this harder for yourself sweetheart.” he growled, twisting you around to smash your body against the cold brick, the wind knocked out of you, too stunned to cry for help as he tossed you like a rag doll.

A black bandanna covered his eyes, toned body was hidden under the same black fabric, blood smeared across his cracked knuckles. You searched him for some recognition of who he was, but you were too dazed from the sudden assault, heartbeat racing too loud in your ears from adrenaline to think clearly enough.

“She's got fight in her man.” the mystery man smirked, as if you were a wild animal in a cage, desperate to get free.

Shivers broke out across your skin from under the leather as shocks went through your whole body, white, sticky webs clinging you to the wall like a mouse in a trap.

Then it clicked. Oh. Fuck.

“Oh you fuckers.”

A second body hung from the ceiling, emerging from the darkness into the dingy warehouse lighting, attached to a web as he waved at you from upside down.

“Well hello there!” he said cheerfully as if the three of you were all buddy-buddy and this was an everyday event.

“Was that a goddamn Star Wars reference?” you huffed, wanting to strangle the both of them.

“Yes. Maybe. Maybe yes.” He dropped from the ceiling, bouncing on his heels as he looked at you with interest through his mask, head tilted with curiosity.

“You need to slow your heartbeat. Calm down.” the masked man murmured lowly, listening to the increasing speed of its thumps as he neared you. It was then your vision cleared, and you could get a good look at them in the dimmed lighting.

Matt and Peter. 

“I would be calm, if I wasn't webbed to a fucking wall right now.” you sang sweetly, making him smirk.

“It's for your own good.”

“Well technically, it’s for our own good because if she weren't bound she’d be clawing our faces off right now.” Peter noted, his voice fading in the distance as he found some random old chairs that were scattered in the corner.

“Peter’s right ya know.” you played along,  the dragging of the chair's feet against the stone floor coming to an abrupt halt.

“You know my name?”

“Well duh. I’m not stupid, no matter how much you and Mr. Matthew over here may think I am.” You couldn't keep the sly smirk off your face, knowing you had them right where you wanted them.

You couldn't defeat them, and you knew the gang had most likely scrambled by now, along with your ring- but you could keep them talking.

“It's nice for us to finally be acquainted again.” Matt sighed, watching as Peter brought up the chair, plopping himself in one directly in front of you. As if you were a circus act, or the hottest new movie in the box office.

You huffed, not meeting his eyes as Peter curled his feet under him, sitting crisscross in the old, rusting chair. “What is this a therapy session?”

“Does it need to be? Tell me, my darling- how is your relationship with your father?” Peter asked mockingly, making you hiss out in response.

“Alright, alright enough. We just want to talk to you…”

“I’m not giving you my name.” you replied sharply, slightly struggling against the webs, having no luck of them weakening.

“How is that remotely fair?” Peter scoffed.

“Peter- enough. Fine, be that way. As I said, we just want to talk.” Matt exclaimed, cracking his knuckles as his head tilted to listen, surveying the nearby area with his ears.

“I think they left.” you murmured, and he nodded in response, mouth drawn into a hard line. “They left cause you scared them off with all your thrashing. Settle down woman, the webs won't break that easily.”  Peter hinted, watching in amusement as you finally gave up, putting your head down in defeat.

“I hate you.” you murmured softly, quiet as a pin drop as you stared down at the cold concrete.

“Yeah, yeah tell us something we don't know.” Matt sighed, your eyes flickering back up to look at Peter, his legs still crossed in an almost childish manner as he leaned his head in his hands- appearing bored.

“Let's get this over and done with. What do you want to talk about?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

They were going to threaten you- obviously, or they'd try and talk you over with their magical words of wisdom, about how being ‘good’ was better than whatever the fuck you were doing. You didn’t care for it.

But you knew they wouldn't let you go until they said what they had to say.

You fought the urge to shiver, a cold breeze filtering through the broken windows, seething to chill your bones. Your nipples hardened, and you swore Matt’s head tilted slightly, a smirk dotting his face.

“You. Helping us.” Peter retorted, and before you could stop it, you laughed.

You laughed and laughed and laughed because what the fuck? That was the last thing you had expected them to say, his words seeming like an inside joke you weren’t involved with.

The cold had now disappeared, replaced with a warmth and bubbliness that pooled in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” was all you could gasp out, your sides hurting from the continuous laughter that poured out of you. You laughed partly because yes- it was funny, but also because you were confused and anxious. Not that they needed to know that of course.

“We need your help taking on Kingpin.”

There it was.

The laughter stopped. That name had left you scarred, your insides shriveling up at the whispers of memories that trickled through your brain.

“I don’t get involved with him.” you stated, voice hardened like cracked sugar. The air was sucked out of the room, and you saw fear and darkness slither across the brick.

“I know you don’t. That's why we’re now asking you to get involved with him, with us. We need another hand to play in his card game.”

“I don’t. Get. Involved.” you hissed, drawing out each symbol as if they were illiterate. Which they must have been. They must have been borderline stupid to think you would help them, with Kingpin nonetheless.

He was way out of your territory, and there were even lines you didn't cross once they were drawn.

“We’ll help you get your mother's things back.” Peter said cooly from his side of the room. Your head whipped towards him, eyes wide.

Maybe you didn't have the upper hand afterall.

“I don’t need your help.” Peter snorted, hand extending to the broken window, the one you had been perched out of a few minutes prior.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” he said sarcastically. “I had it under control, until you two showed up and ruined it.” you snarled.

“We saved you. They had multiple firearms on them, and you were severely outnumbered. The second you dropped, you would have been shot on the spot, too many bullets to stand a chance.” Matt replied to your outburst coolly. “But you wouldn't have known that, would you? They were tucked away, in their boots and under their jackets. Because if you did know, you would have been openly committing suicide, and that seems unlike you since theres jobs that still need to be done.”

You were silent. They had you in their webs. Quite literally, at that.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice.” Matt replied softly, his demeanor seeming to change. Almost as if... as if he felt bad for you. As if he could see right through you, could feel the pain and sorrow in your heart that ripped and clawed at you daily, could feel the loneliness and anguish that haunted you.

Maybe he didn't have many choices in his lifetime.

His words were nearly comforting, but you knew they were one-sided. You did have a choice, but if you didn’t accept their offer- things wouldn't turn out good. Not that they would working with them anyways.

But what ‘choice’ did you really have?

“Fine. When do we start?” 

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“It’s fucking cold.” you groaned, the air around you seeming brisker with each passing second. New York never seemed to be warm, the skin-tight suit plastered to you not helping the cause.

It was lightweight and stretchy, its fabric perfect for fighting and climbing- but it provided next to no warmth.

The sirens shrieked as they passed by under you, the city lights illuminating the two men next to you as you sat perched on the roof.

It had been a few weeks since the webbing incident, and you now waited- bored out of your mind for an instruction. It was unlike you to listen and not lead, but you wanted to see how the dice would roll.

You crouched low, the concrete block rough and bitter to the touch as you knelt at Peter’s level.

“It’s not cold. You’re just being a pussy.” Peter drawled, the wind whipping through his messy locks as he looked down, taking in the bustling traffic below.

The cars were all fancy here, all Porches and Bentleys on this side of town. It made you feel out of sorts, and uncomfortable in your skin.

“Did you just call me a pussy?”

“He meant it romantically.” Matt replied, your eyes meeting his sharp jawline as he sourced out the area from the other side of you.

“I did not.” he scoffed, a blush burning on his cheeks as he turned away, suddenly very interested with the stone ledge.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. When are we moving in?” you asked impatiently, rocking on the balls of your feet anxiously. It felt like you had been sitting up here forever, despite meeting them back near Hell's Kitchen over half an hour ago.

So in reality, you had really only been sitting here for a good twenty minutes. Yet, it dragged on.

Where was the action? The fighting? You were sick of waiting.

“Don’t even think of moving in without my signal.” Matt stated, sensing your anticipation as you sighed.

“What are we even waiting for?!”

“For them to take their fighting somewhere else.” Peter snorted, obviously as anxious to get going as you were, but it appeared he was more collected. He had been working with Matt a lot longer than you had, and you hoped to keep it that way.

You watched as Matt listened closely, obviously aware of the conversation that was appearing behind the glass in front of you. The two men were tall and build, almost double the size of you. Anger was written across their faces, buried in the creases of their foreheads as they yelled, hands frantically moving. Their black suits were wrinkled, blood dotting one's forehead as if a fight had occurred before this one.

You tilted your head, curious.

Were they not on the same side? Were they not both fighting for Fisk, defending him?

“They seem pretty angry for people who appear to be on the same side.” you hinted, trying to think of reasons they could possibly be so mad.

“You’d be surprised how competitive his men can get, when he's angry the way has been lately.” Peter stated, looking to Matt for instruction as a gun was cocked, hands going up in surrender.

“Should we intervene?”

Matt just shook his head.

“Let it play out.” was all he said. You despised how calm and collected he was about this. Part of you wanted him to be rash, so you could save him and yell at him for how stupid he was. But that wasn't his style, and you knew it never had been. He and Peter waited in the shadows, counting down the minutes until it was right to strike.

Suddenly another man appeared from the hallway, breaking up the fight. They left the room, and you felt your body instinctively moving forward, ready to leap, though you couldn’t reach.

“The documents Peter and I need are in the office across from that one, in a safe behind the painting behind the desks. All the offices look the same, it's an industrial office. You’re in charge of making sure no one comes up on this floor.”

“So what I’m on watch duty? You brought me along so I could protect you guys while you play capture the flag?” you scoffed. Seeing as to how they quite literally webbed you to a wall, asking for your help- you figured it’d be for something much cooler than this.

“For now.” was all he said, a tone in his voice indicating something else was on the table for a later date. “I don’t really have a choice in this.”

“You always have a choice.” he repeated, words echoing those at the warehouse.

“I’m going to fucking punch you.”

A laugh escaped Peter and he was quick to cover it with a slap to the mouth as he watched the stand down you had with Matt. Nothing was coming out of this, and you weren't expecting it to. But it was still fun to try and bother him anyways.

Nothing seemed to get under his skin, which irked you even more. He was the water to your fire, the voice of reasoning. Fuck his reasoning.

“Punch me and I’m telling you right now things will not end in your favor.” Matt snarled, hand grabbing your wrist as you raised it.

“I’ll take my chances.” you hissed back, hair raising on your arms like a cat’s from under your suit.

“Go.” he commanded sternly. “What?”

“Go. The floor is clear, for now. Peter’s taking you over.”

“Wha-” Before you could beg to differ, confused about what the man meant, you felt an arm wrap around your middle. Matt's grip released from your wrist, yet you could still feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the area where his fingers brushed you starting to tingle.

The wind rushed in your ears as Peter grabbed you, a web shooting from his wrist as he swung you off your feet. It took everything in you not to scream, the movement so quick and sudden you felt your lungs come out through your ribcage. You were soaring through the air, Peter's grip tightening on you as you watched the world blaze by in a blend of colours from under you, coming to a standstill as he stuck to the side of Fisks building.

You looked over to where you once were, finding it empty. Matt had already disappeared, not a whisper or a trace that he had ever been there remaining.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” you whispered, looking down and regretting it immensely.

“I thought you liked high places? Don’t all cats?”

“Not this high.” you whimpered, willing for him to pry open the window quicker than he was currently. Although you gave him credit, he was doing it one-handed after all.

“Just don’t look down. That's what I did before I got used to it.” he shrugged, and you clung to him tighter, breathing in the cologne he wore through his suit. It was nice, you realized, sort of hating yourself for liking it as much as you did.

All of a sudden the two of you were much too close, the air becoming hot and saccharine despite being almost twenty stories high, the wind whipping through your hair wildly.

He let out a small grunt as you heard the window click open, the glass freeing enough space for you to wedge your body through.

“This is the storage room, down the hall from the office we’ll be at. Stay close.” he instructed, and you scrambled to grip onto the window ledge. “And don't let yarn be a distraction.” he added teasingly, darting away before you could let out a sly remark in return.

“Asshole” you muttered to yourself, slowly and quietly shutting the window behind you. You had landed upon a shelf, filled with cleaning supplies. The smell of chemicals burned, your nose twitching with disgust as you took in your surroundings.

It was quiet in here, minus the gentle hum of the air vents. Dark as the night outside, you were stealthy and careful not to knock anything over as you leaped to the floor, the hard tile cold under your hands.

Mops, buckets, vacuums and brooms all were dotted against the walls, cleaning chemicals so advanced you didn't even know if you could pronounce them. Sometimes you forgot how much money this man really had. It seemed unimaginable.

Kingpin could probably buy the entire city if he wanted, in all honesty. You were rather confused why he hadn't yet, since that always seemed to be his endgame. Changing the city. Changing the way people lived, changing the way the economy ran to better suit his needs.

All this change that didn’t need to happen. He could change his shitty attitude, or even the paint colour in here. You thought with a sigh, dusting your hands off as you rose to your full height, on high alert as your hand reached for the door handle.

It was quiet outside. Too quiet.

You held your breath, feeling your lungs tighten as you slid beside the door. Your back was to the wall, heartbeat thumping in your chest as you heard a voice call from the end of the hallway, turning the corner.

Waiting wasn't something you were very good at, but you knew you had to time this right. The whole mission- and your life, depended on it. Just as his foot hit the hardwood in front of your hidden alcove, you swung the door open, arm reaching around his throat.

A meer gasp escaped him as you pounced on him, dragging him into the cleaning closet with you. His arm went back to hit you with his gun, but you had wrapped around him like a koala bear- his arms unable to you. His gun clattered to the ground as you kicked it, squeezing your arm around his airways even tighter as he fell back against a shelf.

You winced as the pain shot up your arm as he slammed you back against the wooden ledges, cleaning supplies rattling in the struggle.

“Can you pass out quieter?!” you hissed, feeling his grip lack as he slipped into unconsciousness. You jumped off of him as he thudded down to the ground, limbs spread out as his breathing steadied.

You sighed, dusting off your suit again with the quick bush of your hands. He had got dirt on you- the bastard. Grabbing underneath his armpits, you attempted to trudge the large, beefy man to sit against the shelf.

If he was going to be unconscious, he might as well ruin his posture in the process. It seemed like a fair trade, seeming as he almost pointed a gun at you and smacked your shoulders hard enough to see little black spots dot across your vision.

He would be out cold for a while, hopefully, long enough for your little boy scout duo to get their shit and scramble. You watched as he slouched over, proud of your handiwork. You were lucky he wasn't as large as the other guards you had seen, or else you weren't so sure your strategy would work.

Remembering you had a job to do, you slipped back over to the closed door, poking your head out slightly as you heard the ever so slight creak of a window close from the office down the hall.

Good. They got in.

You were scared to breathe, scared the rush of air whooshing through your trachea would set off some sort of alarm or trigger. It was like walking on pins and needles. The air seemed tighter here, stuffy as it weighed down on you. It was almost an unfamiliar presence was lurking nearby, someone you had seen in a nightmare once before, but had convinced yourself they weren't real.

Shivering, you tried your best to ignore it, slipping off behind the corner- somewhere you knew the cameras wouldn't be able to see you. Peter had already mapped out the floor plan earlier- his long, elegant fingers gliding over the page, his words tuning out slightly as you felt warmth spread through you the longer you watched his fingers point and tap.

You thought of them now as you watched the empty hallways, knowing they were probably gliding across the ridges of the mahogany desk as he waited for Matthew to finish his task.

They brushed against you now as you felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise, a ghost slipping through you.

Someone was watching you. Someone was here with you, and it wasn't Peter.

Before you could turn fully, hands reached for you, tugging you under an invisible wave. You were dragged under the surface, the shock and adrenaline causing you to gasp for air as they yanked you back against the wall.

Men came from all directions, swarming you. You kicked and clawed, getting in a good few punches as you struggled.

You were caught. Again.

But this time, they wouldn't be willing to talk- like Matt and Peter were. You didn’t know what they do, which was the scary part.

“MATT-” You managed to call out, quickly silenced as a butt of a gun was hit to your forehead, the force so strong your neck snapped back, head rolling limp as the sound of the crack reverberated through your ears.

The world turned dark, and you prayed deep down he had some idea what was happening to you at the time being.

He was a catholic. He’d hear.

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

The world was fuzzy.

Everyone said that, that when their eyes opened it was difficult to see for a bit, shapes and colours blending together. But it was bad. Worse than they put it in the books, when they didnt know how else to change the scene, so they just made the character unconscious or whatever.

You feared you were trapped in a watercolour painting as your eyes opened, hand reaching up to grab the place where your head was throbbing like a jackhammer.

You ached for it to stop, moaning out in pain as the word started to reform itself.

“Shh, shh relax.” a familiar voice called, though he sounded slightly out of tune and distant. Matthew came into view as you turned your head, his hand reaching out to press you back into the pillows.

“What happened?” you croaked out, trying to hold back the tears as you felt dried blood crust on your forehead. There was the sound of water trickling as he twisted out a clean rag, the bowl on the bedside table scattered with medical supplies.

You managed to move slightly, allowing him to sit next to you on the bed, a slight frown on his face as he sighed.

“Peter ran out to back you up, but we were outnumbered. He grabbed you and we took off. There were too many of them swarming us for it to be a decent fight, especially because you were knocked out.”

The warm cloth was pressed against your gash, and you flinched from the sudden contact as he tended to you.

Who would have thought? Not you.

“I thought the Matthew Murdock never backed down from a fight?” you asked curiously, knowing it would twinge a nerve or two. But it didn’t. He just shrugged, setting the cloth back down next to the others.

“I do when someone who is on my side is hurt.” he stated, voice seeming to be filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decide on. It was a factual statement, and you were honestly shocked he wasn't more upset with you.

You were silent as he stood, bed creaking slightly from the removal of his extra weight, his arms hanging limp at his sides. It was then you could get a good look at him, though the lighting was dim in his apartment.

His knuckles were slightly smeared with dried blood, some slashes dotted across his forearms that seemed fresh.

But he was unbothered.

He had put on the mask you had put on so many times before, becoming a soldier. Becoming guarded.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” he noted, sensing your gaze on the marks that dotted across his exposed skin. All you could do was clear your throat as you peeled your eyes from him, desperate to think of anything else but running your fingers across his skin.

You focused on the red numbers from the analog that stared at you, seeing it was an odd hour in the early morning. The heavy rain pattered against the windows, the comforting sound reminding you of nights at your mother's, listening to the rain hit the tin.

Her soft perfume would wrap you in an embrace as she’d lie with you, book in hand as you’d drift off to sleep. The sound always brought you back to a place of serenity, even in the toughest of times. You urged to find yourself back to the memories of her, but were interrupted by the sound of the door slamming, and the squealing of wet boots.

“He returns triumphant.” Peter called from the entrance, a plastic bag dropping to the ground with the water that dripped from his coat as he shrugged it off.

You groaned, forcing yourself to swing your legs over the bed, the hardwood cold against your feet. Pushing up, you wobbled slightly as you rose to your full height- feeling like a fawn on its new legs.

“Did Claire cause a fuss?” Matt asked, flicking on a light from around the corner. You heard water run from a faucet as Peter shook out his dripping hair, running his fingers through it before carrying the bag over to him.

“No, no she seemed fine with it. Kinda rushy but-” His attention slid over to you, concern across his features.

“Hey, hey you're supposed to be in bed.”

“I don't like you.” you murmured, trying to shoo him away as he walked towards you.

“I don't care. You’re supposed to be resting.” he sighed, rolling his eyes as you protested. Peter's hands were warm, despite being outside in the crisp, chilled New York air as they picked you up gently.

He treated you as if you were a piece of fine china when he walked, moving ever so slowly to avoid jutting you around more than necessary. It was odd, considering you both had given each other the side eye more times than you could count.

You weren't used to the attention. You weren't sure if you liked it or not, it was too unfamiliar and new. But you accepted it, tucking your head to your chin as you clutched his sweater tighter, the clenching of your fists bringing you relief.

He carried you to the bathroom, the brighter lighting making you squint as he entered. Matt stood at the vanity, the bag of goods Peter had picked up scattered out on the counter. You gulped at the sight of the medical tools, the needle and thread making your skin crawl.

“I think I’m fine.” you said, anxiously clearing your throat as Peter set you down beside the sink. Matt resumed his doings, gathering the thread as if this were an everyday occurrence for him.

It very well could be, you realized.

“Seriously, I’m okay-”

“Hold her still.” Matt insisted to Peter as you made a move to slide off the counter. Panic swarmed you like flies, maggots chewing away at your lungs as you found it harder and harder to breathe.

It wasn't because of the boys, far from that. They had taken quite good care of you, despite the circumstances. It was the needle, the damn needle that made your stomach turn in on itself.

The idea of something sewing through layers of your skin did not sit right with you. You wanted to turn to the invisible camera,  break the fourth wall during this shit.

“Can you believe this shit? I can help take down Fisk, but I’m scared of a small needle? (and commitment sometimes)” ��

“Breathe.” Matt commanded sternly as his hand gripped your thigh, sensing your bubbling fear. You shook your head frantically, your stomach starting to clench.

A gentle touch to your other thigh startled you, and you looked over in alarm as Peter's fingers brushed your skin, his eyes seeming to bleed raw with empathy. He seemed genuinely concerned for you, and you welcomed his touches with open arms as you started to shake and buzz with nerves.

“Kitty, it’s okay. I promise you, he knows what he’s doing.”

”I used to stitch up my dad after his fights when I was a kid. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” Matt replied softly. “It’s not that it’s just… it grosses me out. The needle- I mean.”

Matt tilted his head slightly, a small little smile on his face. The one you had seen so much when you were around him in the short period of time, the one he did when he was teasing you.

You wanted to rub it off his face, smear it like chocolate into his skin with the palm of your hand.

“You’re a brave lil thing. You’ll be okay.” You closed your eyes, doing anything to dissociate, anything to convince your mind you were in a better place. Knuckles clenched around the counters edge, nails scratching the sharp surface as you keened.

“I’ll be gentle.” he murmured in your ear, close enough so that you could breathe in his scent, could feel the heat that pulsed off him in a sinusoidal wave. 

He was far, yet so close in your mind, sight like tunnel vision as you tried not to be consumed by him. But it was impossible. The soft gentle squeeze on your thigh took away from Matt's actions, and you exhaled softly, steadily.

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. In for four. Hold for-

“Which one of them did this to you?” Peter asked you benevolently, finger strumming a steady rhythm. You were scared for him to stop.

Suddenly, you didn't want to be left alone anymore. It was strange how the human body could react like this, how it could change and fluctuate depending on each situation was thrown at it. It wasn't equipped to handle them alone. It was a machine, but was unusable, nor was it well-oiled if someone wasn't there to support it.

In some cases, that was the last person you'd ever expect in your life to keep its maintenance.

“I’m not sure. He had a scar, right across his cheek. That’s all I could see of him, before the others came.”

Silence. Then another beat.

“We’ll kill them all.” was all he said, eyes slipping up to admire Matt's handiwork. Matt nodded, humming to himself softly as he patched you up with ease. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their head at their comments, shocked that they could talk about this so… so lightly.

And for you? They would kill for you, someone they could barely stand to work with. It rubbed you the wrong way.

There was more to this than you realized.

“I thought the two of you didnt kill?” you asked hesitantly, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt as you felt Matt tug on the final stitch.

The two of them just shrugged. You didn't like how much they shrugged.

“We don't really.”

Then this was personal. This was about Fisk. You needed- no ached for more answers for the more questions that brewed in your mind,

Why Fisk? Why bring you into this? They most likely weren't planning on killing them because of you. You seemed too insignificant. There was a larger cause behind this, if it was driving them to killing instincts.

“So why?” You couldn't help but speak your current interest, too many questions churning deep inside the labyrinths of your mind.

“Done.” Matt sighed, ignoring your questions. A chill spread through your thigh as you felt Peter's hand slip from the surface of your skin, slightly scarred but smoothen after healing.

It felt like a shock, his hand retracting as if he was zapped from you. As if the trance was broken, and things were back to normal. Where you hated him, and he hated you, and neither of you could look at each other for more than two minutes without making faces like children.

His footsteps were silent, cat-like as he removed himself from the tension sharp enough you could cut it with a knife- as he should.

You’d go, or he would.

You slipped from the counter, watching as Matt started to put his supplies in random drawers, although they weren't random to him. He opened each one swiftly, knowing exactly where to put each item where.

You stood still, hoping he’d provide you with the answer you desired. You didn't want to leave this apartment without one.

But he ignored you, acting as if you weren't there. A childlike tendency was brewing inside you, and you fought the urge to not stop your foot against the cool tile and huff.

“Matt?”

“Yeah?”

Why won't you tell me anything? Why am I being left in the dark? Why, just why can't you tell me anything? But you didn't want to push anything.

It was too soon. You had a feeling deep down, small but visible, that’d they'd tell you at some point. Patience was key. It was key in that cleaning closet, and it was key now. It had overtaken so many parts of your life- being patient. It was difficult to master, but it was essential for independence.

“Thank you. For stitching me up, and taking care of me. I appreciate it.” you nodded, not waiting for a reply before you stepped out of the bathroom, heart heavy in your hands.

It had weighed on you- how exhausted you were. It was a lot for your body to handle, in such a short period of time. It was hard for you to admit it to yourself, but you registered the fact you hadn't done something as extreme as this.

Of course you had taken down organizations before, small little street gangs and such that caused disturbances to your true targets.

But this? Fisk? It was a lot. And you had a very strong feeling it wouldn't be ending soon.

The sound of a glass shifting across the table made you jump, the scraping of the glass against the mahogany an uncomfortable pause in the everlasting silence.

Peter’s hand closed around the cup, adams apple bobbing as he chugged the water back.

“You gonna sleep in just that?” he asked, eyebrow raised with a sly grin on his face. You looked down, the oversized tank top hanging down just past your knees.

You presumed it was one of Matt’s considering how large it was on you- and the fact all you had on you at the time was your suit.

They had seen you mostly naked. Oh my god.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you looked back up at him, determined not to let the humiliation you felt win. Besides, Peter was more pretty to look at than the floor anyways.

“What else am I supposed to wear? You gonna be a pervert?” His hands flew up in mock defense, eyes widening.

“No, no I’m a gentleman. Just worried you’ll be cold, that's all.”

“These floors better be heated then.” you shrugged, snagging a warm fuzzy blanket off the arm of the couch.

“No ones sleeping on the floor. I’m on the couch, you're with Parker in the bed.” Matt chipped out, emerging from the bathroom at last. It was as if he was your conversation- not wanting to interrupt in case someone said something snarky and he’d drop the popcorn.

It took you a second to understand what he said fully, feeling incompetent.

“The bed?”

“The bed.” You shook your head hectically, the room blurring.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“I know you can.” he replied, hand touching the lower area of your back as he passed you, making you shiver.

“But it’d be much better if you slept in the bed with your injuries. And besides, what guest sleeps on the floor?” he asked coyly, fluffing up the couch pillows.

Peter’s smile was mischievous as ever, a glimmer in his eye as he took you in.

“C'mon kitty. I don't bite. Promise.” You refused to trust a promise from Parker. But you felt your feet begin to automatically walk over to the comfort of the bed, with its warm sheets that smelt of lavender.

Today was bundles of nightmares all smashed into each other, toppling over one another to cram themselves into the twenty-four hours.

What would sleeping next to Parker do to add to that? 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ He added a lot.

Though it wasn't nightmares- the opposite in fact, it was more trouble to your own morals than you thought was possible.

You woke just as the sun rose, only managing to muster a few hours of shut eye despite the events before. Though your injuries were numbed from pain meds, it was spent tossing and turning between the sheets, trapped in the labyrinth of your own mind.

You were internally angry at yourself, mad at the attraction you felt towards the two men. It had only been a few weeks, and anytime their eyes lingered on you for too long you felt your panties start to dampen.

You wondered if they could tell.

The idea that they could excited you even more.

This wasn't supposed to happen, this little rendezvous of sexual tension between the three of you. You were the villain, they were the heroes. The villain wasn't supposed to clash with the hero in that way- it was off-script.

Yet you felt frozen in place as the birds chirped, Peter's warm body so close to yours you felt the hardening bulge in his pj pants- his large arm draped over your body.

Everyone was still asleep as far as you knew, but you wouldn't be surprised if Matt was awake. He was as quiet as a mouse, most likely listening to your quickening heartbeat as Peter's arm brushed against your hardened nipples, and you opened your legs slightly.

You swallowed, too afraid to make a sound.

“Mmm here kitty, kitty.” he whispered, voice husky and laced with sleep against your scalp.

Your eyes widened.

Was he dreaming about you?

Shifting, you brushed the curve of your ass against his bulge, making him groan. There was no harm in a little fun- was there? It’s not like you were in love with them or anything.

Who said you couldn't mess around for a bit- act on that sexual tension?

You heard his breath catch in his throat, eyes opening slowly to feel you pressed up against him.

“Were you dreaming of me?” you asked innocently, starting to slowly tease him, his fingers brushing circles against your hardened nipples.

“I like when you do that, ya know. They're so sensitive.”

“You minx. You're being a tease.” he growled softly, pinching your nipple harshly as you softly yelped.

“Don’t you like it when I’m a tease though bug boy? It just means you’ll have to train me real good.” you smiled, turning back to give him puppy dog eyes, resulting him practically dry-humping you.

You knew Matt could smell your sweet arousal, and you wondered how long he would hold off before yelling at the two of you to stop fucking around on his bed.

“I thought you hated me?”

“I do. But you feel so good.” you sighed, coy smile blooming as he shimmed lower, teeth sinking deep into your neck as he slid his hand down to part your legs even further.

“Such a fucking whore. Just some cock will shut you up- won’t it?”

You nodded frantically, the hiss that slipped from his lips sounding like music to your ears as he felt how wet you were through the flimsy fabric.

“Please. Please I’ll be so good I promise-” you begged, squirming with anticipation as he chuckled lowly.

“Oh so now she switches up hmm? Silly girl.” he cooed, slipping your thong to the side. You couldn't believe this was really happening. It made your head spin, made your limbs tingly at the thought alone how wrong this was.

Wasting no time, he tugged down his boxers, slowly teasing you as he slid the tip along your wet folds. You knew he was doing it just to spite you, and you were insistent on not giving him the satisfaction.

Biting your lip, you shivered as he toyed with you- a cat playing with its dinner.

“Oh so no back talk now? Good.” he growled, sliding it in to the hilt, making you slap your hands over your mouth with a means to silence the moans that threatened to escape.

Though there was no point, Matt heard every little breath and whimper you protruded, cock hard and heavy in his hands as he stoked it like some pervert.

Peter stuffed you to the brim, brushing your g-spot as he tossed his head back in pleasure.

“F-fuck-” you whimpered, almost unable to speak with how sudden the stretch was. It sent fire coursing through your veins, an adrenaline rush bringing you back to when you were in his arms on the rooftop.

“Fuck is right, Jesus Christ you feel so good. So fuckin tight.” he moaned, slowly sliding out of you, feeling your juices coat the base of his cock as he thrust into you hard enough to send your body jolting before he steadied you.

A new body had entered the room, his presence searing and as hot as embers. Little moans escaped your mouth as you stared at Matt, mouth agape, eyes wide as Peter hammered into you.

“In my bed? Really?” he smirked, and you followed his happy trail down to where his large, veiny hand palmed himself as he heard your heartbeat skip a beat.

“Well someone’s happy to see me. Hmm kitty?”

You moaned, hiccuping on your spit and drool as Peter’s thrusts became more erratic. By the way he was handling you, you knew he didn’t care how quickly you came.

He was using you as a toy, a means to get off. That turned you on even more.

“You’ll get your turn with her after Matty. We talked about this.” he mused, watching your breasts bounce from his harsh manhandling.

“Oh, I know. It’s only fair, isn't it kitty?”

“Y-yeah.” you choked out, Matt’s fingers reaching out to wipe the drool that had dribbled from your lips, swirling his tongue around the coated digit and releasing it with a pop.

“She’s already going dumb. Like a bitch in heat.” Peter smiled, him and Matt holding you steady as your body instinctively attempted to wiggle away from the intense waves of overstimulation, his moans ringing out throughout the room as he came in you with a grunt.

“She just needs to be bred.” Matt smiled, tugging off his boxers and your eyes nearly rolled at the sight.

This was addicting. The way they were making you feel, the way they spoke to you as if you were just a toy for their pleasure. But that's what you liked. Which made it so you knew it would be even harder to avoid this scenario again. It was like a drug.

His hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze on his as Peter slid out of you, cum oozing out all over your puffy, swollen cunt as you whined from the abrupt emptiness.

“Shhh. You’re fine.”

Your body was limp as Matt took over, flipping you on your stomach, knees bent with your ass in the air. Kisses trailed down your spine, thin tanktop slung somewhere in the room.

You didn’t know. You didn't care.

All you cared about was the way he handled you, so gentle compared to Peter. But you knew he’d get rough soon.

“S’too much-” you mumbled sleepy against the sheets, feeling spent.

“She's spent. Fuckin whore is cockdrunk.” Peter smirked, shrugging on a t-shirt as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

It felt dirtier with him watching in a way, knowing his eyes would linger on you in your most vulnerable state.

“But she had so much backtalk with us these past few weeks. What happened to that now angel?” Matt asked mockingly as he slid back in you, stuffing Peter's cum back into your abused hole again.

“Mhm-” you moaned, fisting the sheets as he entered you. He was more patient than Peter, slowly filling you instead of slamming to the hilt- but the stretch was just as delicious.

“M’so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” you mindlessly babbled- for what you didn't know. You just wanted to be good, to make them happy, and to please them. If that meant shattering your ego, then so be it.

“Silly girl.” Matt provoked, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he started to use you as he saw fit. You sunk your head deeper into the pillows, tears starting to stream down your cheeks from the sensitivity.

“M’gonna cum-” you hiccupped cautiously, seeing as Matt’s pace was not stopping for anything, or anyone.

“Yeah? Go ahead baby. I’ll let you, since Parker was being so cruel.”

“She was being a tease. She had to learn a lesson.” Peter mused, teeth digging into his lower lip as he watched where you and Matt connected, knowing his cum was being shoved further into you.

“But she’s such a sweet girl. Deep down, you just wanna please us, don’t you baby? Your little demeanor doesn't fool us.”

You felt your brain go fuzzy, his voice sounding distant as you came around his cock with a high pitched whine.

“Atta girl kitty.” Peter called, creaming Matt’s cock as he stilled, filling you up just the same. His grunts were like music to your ears, following you as you came down from the little cloud you were perched on.

“So good baby. Just stay put, yeah?” Matt murmured, and you didn’t even have the strength to nod as he slowly inched his way out of you, both of their cum now slowly spilling out of you as your legs twitched and quivered.

You couldn't move even if you wanted to. Your body felt like jello, and you felt your lower half slowly slide down onto the bed as you whimpered.

“Hurts s’bad.” you groaned, Peter's hand finding its way to stroke your cheek bringing you some form of comfort as you heard Matt start to run the tap, warm water spewing out onto a clean washcloth.

“I know kitty. But you did so good for us. It’s okay, just go back to sleep yeah?”

You nodded, eyes starting to droop as you clung to consciousness.

“I fucked her better you know.” Peter called, making Matt scoff as he returned with the damp fabric in hand.

“Yeah right. Older men just do it better Parker.” he shrugged, and you almost wanted to deride them. They were bickering like children and if you were in the position to bicker back- you would.

The feeling of the cloth against you made you jolt, and Peter reached out to steady you, rubbing small soothing circles on your back as Matt cleaned you.

It was strange and unfamiliar, the kindness and soothing physical contact the men were showing you. You bathed in it, scared it would all slip away like sand when the after-orgasm haze wore off.

“I’m sure Murdock. But who got to have her first?”

“Because she was sleeping right next to you! In my bed, may I add.”

You rolled your eyes, their endless arguing lingering over to the kitchen as you clung to the warm blankets that smelt of them.

It was going to be a long day indeed.

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[wttcsms]

love cuts just like a knife (you make the knife feel so good) ; phillip graves

pairing phillip graves x f!reader word count 8.4k synopsis lover and victim are synonymous when it comes to those who fall into phillip graves’ trap. you learn this lesson a little bit too late. alternatively: an ambitious twenty-five year old graves will do anything for recognition and a promotion. even using you, a renowned general’s daughter, as a means to an end. collateral damage is insignificant when it comes to reaping the rewards of love and war, after all. content contains age gap (reader is 19, phillip is 25), manipulation, loss of virginity, possessive sex, possessive!phillip, lovers to enemies, naive + inexperienced!reader, mentions of pregnancy, power imbalance, breeding kink, minor depictions of violence + blood, literally heavily inspired by taylor swift’s “all too well (10 min version)” + “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” </3

The four walls of this bathroom are closing in on you, you can’t breathe, and you’re certain that this most certainly is the end of the fucking world.

You try to focus on your breathing, but the sound of your heart banging against your chest invades your mind and makes you think your eardrums are going to burst from the inside out. You’re vaguely aware of the knocks against the bathroom door, but you can’t make out what the person on the other side is saying. The whole room is spinning, and you shut your eyes, forcing yourself to keep steady, to stay calm.

Your fingers curl around the countertop of the bathroom, back hunched over and your shaky arms being the only things helping you remain upright.

This can’t be happening.

You only tighten your grip, staring at your fingers before wanting to throw up when the light reflection from the promise ring on your finger catches your eyes.

You swear that in the glint from the thin band wrapped around your finger, you see flashes of what transpired these past few months. Secret smiles shared from across the room, being tangled up in hotel bedsheets, that damn smirk and boyish grin that sent you spiraling, that led to your’s — your whole entire family’s — demise.

It all comes back to you at too much of a rapid-fire pace for your already shattered mind to deal with properly. Instead, you’re practically ripping off the ring from your finger and chucking it somewhere in the bathroom. You hear the distinct sound of its landing, and from the corner of your eye, it still taunts you.

You shut your eyes again, childishly refusing to turn your head any further so you can conveniently ignore what the ring happened to land next to.

You don’t care much for violence.

Which is ironic; a renowned general’s only daughter being a pacifist? Sounds more like the setup for a joke.

But there’s nothing funny about the way his knuckles are smeared with dried blood, and the sincerity reflected in his blue eyes is too real to be just a joke. Dangling from in between his fingers is the unmistakable golden locket your mother gifted to you when you were only twelve — just months before her quick death. It’s your most prized possession.

And then it was stolen.

At least, you think it was stolen. You’re smart enough to know better than to throw wild accusations, especially whenever you’re on base and these young men surrounding you are training to be the best and brightest for the country. But still — you’re not careless enough to just misplace something so important. The only reason you took it off was because your father told you jewelry wouldn’t be allowed past a certain point. He had promised that the locker would be secure, and you didn’t have the heart to come running to him to tell him that the lockers evidently were not. After watching a fighter jet’s practice run (a supposed special treat for graduating top of your high school class — neverminding the fact that your father’s influence probably had something to do with it), the door to your locker had been swung open and left entirely empty.

You even had a sneaking suspicion as to who the culprit could have been. Jeremy Omelia has been a pain in your ass since summer break started, and you’ve been forced to spend most of your time either on the training base or following your dad around like some little puppy. He’s a new recruit, evident in the way he talks loudly and obnoxiously about how badly he wants to go to war. Your father, a highly respected general, mind you, isn’t shy about his distaste for fighting.

Avoid it at all costs.

Instead of hardening him, all the violence your father has beared witness to has left him rather soft. He shields you to the point where some of his fellow men jokingly discuss about you living in your own little bubble world. And they’re right.

You’ve never had the luxury of sneaking out or having movie dates and getting your father to allow you to go to a sleepover at a classmate’s was harder and less painful than pulling teeth. You get it; that he’s overbearing and overprotective for a good reason. But when the situation calls for you to stand your ground, you find yourself completely at the mercy of your opposition.

So when you first accused Jeremy of stealing your beloved necklace, it had been nothing short of a miserable, failed mission. Too overwhelmed and yet too unsure of yourself, you had practically stuttered through your accusation. It hadn’t helped that you chose to confront him in front of the rest of the new recruits, too. They would have mocked you and probably teased you with the type of cruelty only boys are capable of, but the status of your father shields you from it. Their laughter still rings in your ears, though.

And for the first time in your life, you felt the urge to punch someone in the face.

Again: you’re not a very violent person. Nor are you the type of person who jumps in and does stuff as irrational as that.

But staring up at the boy in front of you, locking eyes with him, and then allowing yours to wander from his bloody knuckles to the thin gold chain dangling in his large hands, you feel a sudden surge of satisfaction. Your father may tell you to avoid fighting at all costs, and you may have a distaste for violence, but a punch managed to solve all your problems.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, daring to take a step forward. Your fingers graze against the familiar, cold feeling of the gold of your necklace. “Thank you.” You repeat it again, staring up at him, trying to see if you know him at all.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he says, knowing that he’s lying right through his pearly white teeth. It’s a nasty habit of his — lying, that is. It’s probably inherited. That’s the excuse he tells himself anyway. As if unlearning bad behaviors from your family is impossible.

“I know he stole it! That jerk! I—” You pause, clearing your throat. Your cheeks feel warm, and you suddenly can’t look him in the eyes. “That jerk” is probably one of his bunkmates. Badmouthing the guy might do more harm than good, and since you haven’t necessarily regained possession of your necklace, you should shut up. Instead of finishing your onslaught of insults, you stretch out your palm, silently asking for your prized possession back.

“I know.” He says, after a minute of silence. “Omelia’s a dick. And an idiot. Y’know, I think he has a little crush on you.”

That makes you look at him again.

“That’s— I—” You need a second to process what you’re trying to tell him.

“That can’t be true,” is what you lamely settle for.

“Guys do weird shit to get a girl’s attention, y’know. ‘Specially for a pretty one.”

(Things like getting their knuckles bloody and risking punishment and public humiliation. But, that’s neither here nor there.)

You want to blame your inexperience for being the reason why you react the way you do. You’re thankful that he’s only human and can’t hear the way your heart starts to beat at his comment. He says it so casually, as if it’s not a compliment. And maybe he doesn’t mean it in that way. Maybe it wasn’t a compliment towards you at all. Maybe he’s just being a completely normal guy, and he’s just making simple conversation, and you’re the weird one for practically gawking at him.

“I guess.” You reply back, feeling small as ever. “May I have my necklace back, now? Please?” You tack on the please at the last minute, hoping he’ll appreciate it, and the two of you can be done with this whole entire awkward situation.

“Depends. You gonna get it stolen from you again?”

You know he’s just teasing you, but you can’t think of anything smart to say back, so you just cross your arms, hoping your distaste for his comment will be made known. Instead of apologizing, he laughs.

“Turn around.” He tells you, and you do. Only out of curiosity, though. Only because he has a nice laugh. Only because he obviously went through great lengths to retrieve your necklace back for you, and he never acknowledged your thank you’s, so maybe doing what he says will make the two of you even.

The tips of his fingers brush against the nape of your neck, and you never realized just how sensitive you are. It takes everything in you to not jerk away from the movement, but it’s almost as if he’s shocked you. It’s silly to get overwhelmed from just the slightest touch, but you swallow hard as he manuevers around your hair to clasp the necklace around your neck.

“There.” He says, seemingly satisfied. “Now the next time someone takes it from you, at least you’ll have a solid look at ‘em yanking the chain around your neck so your accusation can have some credibility.”

You ignore his little teasing remark in favor of satiating your curiosity. “Who are you?”

“No one you need to worry too much about.”

You turn your head, ready to face him again and ask him for his name more firmly, but he’s already walking back from wherever he’s came from, leaving nothing but the memory of his face and the ghost of his touch lingering on the back of your neck.

Ambition is a curse.

Ambition is a bitch.

At least, that’s how Phillip Graves sees it. Ambition and the greed to do something more, to always have the best — sure, it motivates him to be the top of his class and to rise through the ranks faster than most. But it also ends up resulting in him doing some pretty questionable shit.

Things like beating up fellow recruits.

He doesn’t like fighting.

Or rather, he doesn’t like to be the first one to swing.

You see, it’s easier to justify when you do bad shit because it’s done out of retaliation. No one can blame you for being the bad guy if you were the victim first — right?

But no.

General McHenry is the closest thing Graves has to a father figure. His home life is something he chooses not to acknowledge, and when you’re too consumed with climbing the ladder, a lot of things get easier to move to the backseat, left to be abandoned and forgotten. His family being one of those abandoned, forgotten things.

The conversation still replays in his mind as Graves stomps on Omelia’s back.

“General [Surname] has been a pain in the fucking ass for as long as I can remember. The weak bastard’s always opposing the opportunity to strike, and he’s going to be the reason why our enemies are going to accuse us of being a bunch of pussies.”

Graves nods in agreement, even if he doesn’t truly agree. General McHenry’s been the one kind enough to take him under his wing, and so it’s better to just go with what he says and continue to benefit from the general’s sponsorship. Raw talent and simple ambition only gets you so far nowadays.

“You agree, dont’cha? ‘Course ya do.” McHenry grumbles, pacing around the room. “[Surname] refuses to man up and fuckin’ fight. It doesn’t help that he’s still viewed as a golden boy around here. He’s even got the fuckin’ president wrapped around his finger.”

Graves personally doesn’t have anything against General [Surname]. He seems like a nice enough guy. He’s a war hero, too.

Then again, so is McHenry.

“When I’m at the top of the fuckin’ foodchain, [Surname] and his entire family is going to regret crossing me. You understand, Graves?”

Graves nods. Lately, McHenry’s been going on little tangents like this, where he’s secretly plotting the downfall of this general. He goes along with it because he feels like he owes it to McHenry, and even if there’s only a sliver of a chance of taking down General [Surname], Graves will follow through for McHenry because the payoff will be fantastic.

He doesn’t actually anticipate McHenry coming up with a feasible plan.

“Fuck! What the fuck is your problem, Graves?!”

The howl of pain from Omelia snaps him back to his current reality. Staring down at the pitiful, crumpled form of Omelia, Graves can’t find it in himself to feel the slightest bit of remorse. Truth be told, Omelia’s had it coming since day one.

The pathetic idiot’s been eyeing General [Surname]’s daughter ever since you stepped foot on base. Everyone is aware of your presence, especially this year’s class. The famous general’s only daughter is going to be here all summer? And you just so happen to be the prettiest fucking thing most of these guys have ever laid eyes on? Trouble was bound to happen.

Graves just didn’t know that he was going to be one of the unlucky participants of it.

He sighs, crouching down before taking a hand to tug at the collar of Omelia’s shirt. The action forces Omelia to weakly lift his head, allowing him to look Graves in his gunmetal blue eyes.

“Where is it?” Graves doesn’t sound angry, which is shocking to poor Omelia considering the fact that he sure as hell punches like he is. The proof is in the constant stream of blood trickling out of his nose.

“Where’s what?” He’s not even feigning ignorance, which Graves can’t necessarily fault him for. He’s not really the type to wear his heart on his sleeve — would much rather prefer to pretend that he doesn’t even have one, thank you very much — but he’s on a bit of a time crunch right now. He knows your schedule. You’re going to be leaving the canteen pretty soon, and if he wants to catch you, he needs to speed things up.

He chooses to further take his irritation out on Omelia, punching the guy with his left fist this time. It’s not a particularly hard punch; he figures he’s already done enough damage, and by the time word gets around of his transgressions, Graves will hopefully already have McHenry pulling some strings to make sure his punishment isn’t too severe. Now, though, both of his hands are bloody. Blood is a bitch to wash away.

“Fuck!” Omelia yelps. “What the fuck are you even looking for?”

“Her necklace. The damn locket that she confronted you about for stealing. Where the hell is it?” With each sentence, Graves shakes the boy, forcing his limp body to jerk with each aggressive tug. Graves starts to feel a little bit guilty, before he remembers that technically, Omelia made you cry.

You’re cute, Graves finds himself thinking. Too cute to be crying over an idiot like him.

The guilt dissipates.

“That’s what all this shit is about? Over some stupid fu—”

Omelia’s complaints are interrupted by another one of his pained screams. Graves had punched him again, this time a bit harder.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.” Graves growls. He switches gripping Omelia’s shirt in favor for curling his fingers into the locks of the boy’s hair. It’ll be easier to use that as a sort of leash; provides him the ability to more forcefully bash the idiot’s head into the pavement beneath his feet. Seemingly smart enough to sense the impending danger, Omelia quickly begins to shout.

“It’s in my fucking left pocket! Left pocket, left pocket!”

Graves keeps his grip tight and unyielding as he uses his free hand to rummage in said pocket. Sure enough, Omelia had enough sense to not lie.

He releases Omelia unceremoniously, clutching the dainty necklace and keeping it safely secured in the calloused palm of his hand.

His parting words — more like a warning — leaves Omelia wondering just who the fuck are you to Graves.

The next time you make her cry, I’ll break every fucking bone in your body for every tear she spills.

Eighteen years old. Freshly graduated from high school. More college acceptances than you know what to do with. General [Surname]’s only child. His precious little princess. His only immediate family, and after the untimely death of your mother, his biggest weakness.

General McHenry is teaching Graves on how to exploit weaknesses.

“Good job,” McHenry says, laughing before clapping Graves on the back of his shoulder. “You sure can put on a performance, son.”

Son. Huh. It has a bit of a nice ring to it, he supposes.

“Y’know, I thought I wouldn’t be able to stick out my neck for ya, but you must’ve done some Oscar-worthy acting, boy. You should’ve seen the look on that girl’s face when she begged her daddy not to let ‘em punish you too harshly. Looks like you’re smarter than you look.”

Yeah, sure. It’s a bit of a backhanded compliment, but Graves will settle for it. He just has to deal with this shit for a while longer, and soon, he’ll never have to settle for anything ever again.

At first, General McHenry thought it was a bit of a bullshit idea. The general’s daughter is much too protected by the likes of her father and his closest allies to be touched by the likes of any outsiders. The best way to have him in the palm of their hands is to hit you with it, but that provides to be a bit of a challenge. No direct attack on you will go unpunished.

Graves suggests playing the long game.

He’s read your file, and it doesn’t take a psych degree to read you to filth. You’re nothing more than a pretty girl who’s been spoiled and sheltered by her father all her life. You’re eighteen and about to begin the start of your life, and you probably feel as if you’ve never done anything exciting. Even if you act like a stickler for rules or you’re scared to face the consequences of disobeying your father, with the right words and the right timing, Graves bets planting the seeds of rebellion in your naive, little brain will be a simple task. He’s certain you’ve never had a boyfriend, never even been given the chance to go out on a date — the slightest bit of affection will have you eating out the palm of his hands. The same hands he’s going to use to force your father into the ground, allowing him and McHenry to do whatever the fuck they want.

Naturally, no good deed goes unpunished. Graves still has to scrub the bathrooms with a toothbrush for the next two nights, but it’s a small price to pay. If you truly caused a commotion and swayed your own father to change his stance all for a guy you don’t even know the name of, he’s certain in the next few months, he’ll have you craving his last name and the privilege of bearing his children.

Which isn’t such a bad thing. You’re pretty, he’ll give you that. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen, too.

“What do you plan on doing next?” McHenry asks, grinning. Graves smiles back.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it all figured out.”

Word spreads around quickly in places like these. While you saw the evidence all over his knuckles, hearing what actually transpired leaves you a bit breathless — shocked, but not necessarily because of the violence of it all. Shocked because it had all been done in your honor.

It’s only been two days since the incident, but the feeling of your locket pressed against your skin seems to burn. It serves as a constant reminder of the boy who fought to get it back for you, and suddenly, this necklace has two special memories behind it. You never want to take it off again.

You catch snippets of the recruits whispering to each other, but it’s hard to hear the full story whenever they look up and notice you’re nearby. No one has outright approached you about your connection to this whole fight, and it’s not until dinnertime that you finally get all the details.

“What’s this I hear about between you and Graves?”

“Me and who?” You continue twisting your pasta around your fork, perfectly content with eating in silence and daydreaming about the boy who retrieved your necklace for you. You’ve been texting your closest friends from high school about all the drama, questioning them on what it means. The general consensus? That boy’s got it bad for you. The thought makes you way too happy.

“Phillip Graves.” Your father says.

You shrug, still not sure who he’s talking about.

“Young lady, do not play the fool with me. According to Omelia, he’s the one who left him bloody and bruised outside the back of the gym.”

So, two things you now know for certain: Omelia is a necklace thief, and the boy you’re thinking about is named Phillip Graves. This is becoming a truly enlightening conversation.

“Oh. Well, I didn’t know his name.”

“You don’t know his name, and yet, he’s starting brawls over you?”

“Well, dad, when you put it like that—”

“[Name], what Graves did was a very inappropriate thing to do. Honorable men should never raise their fists against their own fellow soldiers, especially over disputes that could have easily been solved with a simple conversation.”

“Dad, you don’t seriously think that he’s the bad guy in the situation! He’s the one who defended me—”

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, that he used unnecessary force—”

“Omelia is such a jerk! You weren’t there that day. He totally humiliated me in front of everyone in the canteen whenever I tried to make ‘simple conversation’. He wouldn’t listen at all.”

“There’s going to be a meeting to discuss what Graves has done. I personally believe that he should be punished in accordance to what’s written down for men who act as rashly and harshly as he did.”

“Dad!” You gasp, dropping your fork entirely. It makes a tiny sound as it hits the porcelain of your plate, but you ignore the clanging noise. “Don’t you think that’s unfair?”

“Omelia has a broken nose, [Name].”

“Omelia stole the last piece of mom I have left. He would have never given it back if his nose wasn’t broken.”

Looking back, maybe the violence was harsh and uncalled for. A punch might have sufficed. The brutality he’s capable of is simply excusable in your untainted mind. You reason that all soldiers must be capable of going through great lengths to protect and defend others. Isn’t that what he was doing? Protecting and defending you?

“If you vote to have him punished horribly, I won’t forgive you.”

Even if your bottom lip is trembling and your hands are shaking, your father can see that there’s some conviction behind your words. He’s never been one to deny you, his only daughter, and perhaps Graves is just young and brash.  

“Fine.” Your father says, appeasing you.

The clink of his fork tapping against his own plate sounds a bit too much like the first domino of his downfall.

“You never told me your name,” you’re standing with your arms crossed against your chest. The sunlight coming through one of the large windows hits your necklace, making it shine. He takes in your entire form, memorizing the shape and silhouette of your body. You’re a sight for sore eyes, at least.

“I’ve got a feeling you already know it, though.” He watches the way you fight down a smile at his remark. He bets you have a pretty smile.

You pull out the seat that’s across from him.

“I didn’t know you read.” You say. You’ve been plotting running into him for the past week now, and you know that he frequents the library every day for at least an hour. You’re not sure what he likes to read, but you doubt brushing up on the hockey romances on your Kindle will provide much conversation. You downloaded The Art of War and only made it past the first three pages before deciding that you’ll just manipulate the conversation into something not about books.

“You think about my literacy levels on your freetime, honey?”

All common sense evaporates the moment he calls you honey.

He teases you every time he talks to you (which, then again, isn’t very much), and so you’re certain there’s nothing genuine behind the pet name, but it still makes you undeniably giddy. No one’s ever called you something so sweet before.

Trying to appear unfazed and not as flustered as you feel, you eloquently reply back, “Um— I— No.”

He laughs, the same nice laugh that you can’t stop thinking about. It almost makes up for the fact that he’s most certainly laughing at you.

“Don’t feel bad. I think about you during my freetime, too.”

He can’t just go around saying stuff like that! It’s unfair! It’s… No one goes around saying stuff like that!

“What? Nothing to say to me now?” He’s grinning at you, book in his hand long-forgotten. You notice that it’s not mean, though, which makes you relax just the slightest.

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that.” You tell him. “People might take you seriously.”

“Well, they should. I am serious.”

And for a split second, he thinks he’s being a bit cruel. Mean, at the very least. The way you’re looking at him makes it plainly obvious that you’ve never been flirted with a day in your life.

The hopeful gleam in your bright eyes makes him believe his own lie, just for a brief moment.

It could be worse, he reasons with himself. There are worse people to pretend to fall in love with, after all.

You’ve never been gifted flowers before.

Maybe Phillip knows this. Maybe the insane amount of bouquets he’s gifting you is to make up for all that lost time. Maybe he’s just one of those people who believe in going big or going home.

Maybe he likes you as much as you like him.

You know how your father feels about dating. He’s a rather traditional man. Believes in the whole entire “ask him for permission before taking his little girl away from him” type of shit. Graves is thorough with his research, and even gathered the courage to ask your father for the chance to take you on a date.

It had been a risk—

—one that almost didn’t pay off.

He thinks his ears are still ringing from the shouts of your father. He’s heard reports that he’s a stoic man, for the most part, and isn’t one for conflict when there’s an option that avoids it. But he’s also a reasonable man, and so, Graves can’t necessarily fault him for the rant he went on.

You’re six years older than her! The hell are you doing trying to take her on a date?

He eventually calmed down, of course. Graves took the brunt of the screams pretty well, gave a whole long lecture on how he would never harm a hair on your precious head. He didn’t anticipate on liking you so much, and believe him, he’s been trying to fight down the feelings he’s harboring for you, but he knows he’ll regret not at least trying.

Your father is soft on you. You must talk about Graves more than he realizes it, because General [Surname] gives him his permission a lot easier than he planned on.

He almost feels bad for the way he’s playing your family like a fool.

Then he remembers the power he’ll receive once all is said and done, and he can almost ignore the lingering feelings of guilt.

He forgets everything when you walk through the doors of the library, surprised at the sight greeting you.

He’s made sure that everyone on base knows to avoid the library at all costs tonight, and he even retrieved the key from the librarian on hand after slipping him a twenty and whispering a quick threat about what will happen if he isn’t left alone in this building. Dealing with the closest florist available and strategically arranging all the bouquets to the point where the whole front entrance of the library is covered in red roses. The spines of the books, the front desks, every table — none of them are visible due to the sheer amount of flowers obscuring them from view.

“I don’t–? What?” You take in the scenery before looking at him. He’s got a large bouquet in his hand and a proud smile on his face, like he’s pleased with your reaction. You think this is a good thing.

“Told ya I was serious. Now you believe me?”

There are weeks that go by without the two of you ever even talking. Most days, you’re lucky enough to be walking past him on the base, and for a fleeting moment, he’ll shoot you a smile that’s so quick, you blink and he’s already long gone. You convince yourself that there’s a meaning to all of this, though. That distance must truly make the heart grow fonder, because why else are you collecting all the scraps you’re given and convincing yourself that they’re the only things keeping you full?

(It’s hard to face reality when you find yourself falling in love with the image of his back turned, walking away from you.)

And in your mind, you’re right. You’re pleased to find out that you’re not just some silly little teenage girl, falling in love with the first person who will give her the time of day. After all, this isn’t necessarily your first time experiencing what it’s like to be crushed on.

It is your first time being wowed by someone so much older and therefore unattainable.

It’s addicting — his attention. He can only gift you his affections so few and far between; every time you find yourself on the receiving end of it, you get dizzy from excitement and joy. This is someone who likes you. Someone who likes you so much, he does grand gestures like this to properly court you.

It’s not your fault, is what you’ll tell yourself in the future. Anyone would have fallen for his tricks.

Anyone would have fallen for him.

Being with Phillip is exciting. Your friends from school tell you it’s simply because he’s your first boyfriend — the word still makes you smile every time you think about it — but you know in your heart that it’s because it’s him that makes it exciting.

You like the way he teases you, not to mock you or to bully you, but because that’s just how he shows his affection. You like the way he’s better than all of your friends’ boyfriends because unlike them, Phillip is actually a man. He’s older, making him more knowledgeable about a lot of things. You like the way he never makes you lift a single finger; you think you’re almost forgetting how to do basic things, like opening doors and pulling out chairs and even putting on your seatbelt yourself. But he makes up for it by teaching you things.

Things like spreading your legs for him when he tells you to, even when you’re not expecting him to.

“Phillip, I—” You forget what you’re about to tell him the moment the moan escapes from your lipglossed lips. It’s your nineteenth birthday. Dad’s away on a mission. Phillip tells you he had to pull some strings to not get sent away, either, and the lengths he’ll go to keep you happy makes your heart flutter.

The two of you get into his fancy sports car, and he drives upstate to a quaint little bed and breakfast that he knows you’ve been doing research on. The two of you were supposed to be heading out for dinner right about now, but when you finished getting ready, something in your beloved boyfriend seemed to change.

Now you’re not having a birthday dinner.

Gripping the sheets and gasping as the cool air hits your bottom half because of the way Phillip flipped the skirt of your dress, you realize that at least one of you will be eating tonight.

“Phillip, we—we don’t have time to be doing this.” You weakly protest, no true conviction behind your words.

Before him, you would have never imagined how good one person can make you feel with just the tips of their fingers or strategic movements with their mouths. Now the flood of pleasurable memories travels from your mind to in between your thighs as you remember just what exactly Phillip Graves is capable of.

“Fuck, baby, you’re already so soaked. I haven’t even done anything yet.” He murmurs, ignoring you entirely. He licks his lips, pressing quick, wet kisses against your inner thighs.

“Phillip, wh—what about dinner?” You fight the urge to instinctively buck your hips, but it gets harder to think reasonable thoughts whenever you feel him tugging at the waistband of your panties.

“You should’ve thought about that before wearing this slutty little dress. Were you trying to get the whole restaurant to fuck you with their eyes?” He practically spits out the sentences, and you’re momentarily shocked.

“I didn’t think it was…slutty.” You say, voice sounding as small as you feel. He can feel you practically shrinking away from him, and he mutters out a swear.

He doesn’t mean it. Doesn’t mean to be harsh with you; he knows you’re a sweet girl. He knows you would never have bad intentions.

But he’s not sweet. And he never has good intentions unless he’s the one benefitting.

And he can tell McHenry and even himself that this is all just a ploy to take down your father, but the moment he knew he had you wrapped around his finger was the same moment he realized that if he’s not the one protecting you from the dangers of men like him — maybe even men worse than him — then who will? It’s not like father dearest, for all his overbearing efforts, is doing that great of a job. Look at how easily Graves slipped through those defenses.

He’s doing right by you, is what he tells himself as he strips you of your panties, leaving you in just your pretty pink sundress. Men are wolves. They’ll take one look at you and eat you alive.

At least he has the decency and heart to make it a good time for you.

He presses a kiss against your clit, and you almost forgive him for his cruel words. Phillip makes everything so easy, including forgetting about any of his minor transgressions.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nod, even though you’re sure that he can’t even see the movement. He’s too busy with his head buried in between your thighs, kissing all over you, sucking hickeys on your thighs before his mouth meets right where you truly need him. You can’t even remember what he’s apologizing for the moment you feel him lapping up your juices before plunging his tongue inside your needy cunt as if it’s his right to do so.

Your hands find purchase in the thick locks of his hair rather than the bedsheets. Phillip has been doing this lately — eating you out, that is. The first time he had done it, you nearly cried from the sheer embarrassment of having someone so close to a part of you that is so intimate. You suppose, though, that if it had to be anyone, at least it’s him.

You always want it to be him.

You wonder if all men are like this. If all men plunge so deeply into the wet depths of their girlfriend’s pussy. Your walls flutter around his tongue, and the tip of nose seems to brush against your clit every so often, only adding to the overwhelming stimulation. Maybe it’s because you’ve never done this before him, or maybe it’s because he has a stronger effect on you than he should have, or maybe it’s because you’re just a sensitive girl — maybe it’s all of the fucking above. No matter the reason, all you know is that the pleasure Phillip is capable of handing out is nothing short of overwhelming.

You gasp and mewl out his name, letting out breathy moans of curse words — such filthy words have never left your mouth before he tainted you — and you keep tugging at his hair. He pulls away, your weak grip doing nothing to keep where you want him. Before you can complain, he immediately replaces his tongue with two fingers, scisscoring them inside of you, trying to stretch you out.

“Such a tight, little pussy.” He breathes out, chin wet with your slick and eyes darkened with lust. “Wonder if my pretty, little girlfriend can make me proud.”

“Huh?” Your pleasure-addled mind makes it hard for you to keep up with what he’s saying, and he only chuckles darkly at your clear confusion. He’s only been eating your sweet pussy for a few minutes, and you’re already too fucked out to even make conversation.

Cute. You’re too cute.

Fuck — he wants to keep you by his side forever. Even after his little con is over, and he gets the position he wants.

“You know what I wanna give you for your birthday, baby?” He’s still slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your tight hole, and he relishes in the feeling of your walls contracting and squeezing against him. He decides to add in a third finger, which makes you gasp. He takes that opportunity to press his lips against yours, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and giving you a sloppy kiss. You think you can taste a hint of yourself on his tongue, and the dirtiness of it all makes you moan into his mouth. Everything right now is so filthy. You don’t know why you’re enjoying it so much.

“I wanna give you something special.” His voice is rough with lust, and the feeling of him curling his fingers in your tight cunt makes everything so hard to keep track of. All you can focus on is the heat coiling in your belly, and your eyes are glazed, barely able to look at him straight. “I want to give your little pussy something you deserve. I’m going to fuck my cum in you, and then when we go out to dinner, everyone is going to be able to see your wellbred pussy. How does that sound, hm? You want it? You want me filling your cunt with cum for the first time?”

If you had been in your right state of mind, you would have had the decency to be embarrassed at the way you cum all over his fingers, his words bringing you right to the edge.

“Oh? I think my baby likes the sound of that, huh? Just turned nineteen and already such a slut for me.” He’s still lazily thrusting his fingers in your cunt, and your walls are still spasming from the orgasm. “But you only act like this just for me, right?”

You nod too eagerly. “Yes, yes, yes. Only you. Only your slut, only want your cock, your cum.”

He’s already unzipping his pants, tugging down his briefs, freeing his cock from its confines. He removes his fingers from your wet hole, and your cum and juices act as lube as he uses it to wet his cock. In the back of his mind, even he’s aware of how far he’s taking this.

There’s no coming back from this — he knows this. But he’s still going to do it.

“You trust me, baby?” His eyes search yours for any hint of hesitation. He knows that he’s taken advantage of your naivety already; if you tell him to stop, he will. He expects to see nothing pure in your eyes, certain that he’s your ruination, only to have his heart skip a beat when he realizes that there’s only love and reverence in them. You’ve fallen for him, and he has no idea why he feels the way he does. Swallowing hard, he ignores his uneasy feelings in favor of giving into the one he knows he can actually control: lust.

You nod your head, eager to please him. His rough hands are gripping both your legs, easily exposing yourself to him, and you should feel incredibly vulnerable, but all you really feel is safe. It’s Phillip, after all. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

“Good girl.” His eyes travel down your body, stopping once to admire the amount of marks he’s left on your soft skin, and then stopping again the moment he sees his prize. Your pretty pussy is slick with arousal, tiny hole clenching around nothing. You want him; it’s clear as day. And he’ll give it to you, give you everything; any part of him that he can afford to give is yours for the taking.

What he’s doing is unforgivable.

He doesn’t want forgiveness, though.

His hands grip your waist as he sheaths himself into your virgin cunt, your previous orgasm allowing the movement to be slick. It’s far more gentle than Phillip would treat anyone else, but it’s merciless all the same. There is no room for resistance, and all you can do is moan out in pain and pleasure as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate his length and girth.

You thought your first time would be romantic. A room full of roses, at least, like when he first asked you out.

But it’s Phillip. As long as it’s him, you’re happy.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans out, voice sounding raspy as he watches your tiny hole taking his dick like it’s supposed to. You feel full, filled to the fucking brim, and the foreign feeling of it all has you confused and overwhelmed. There’s a slight sting, and you think you should wait for the pain to subside, but he’s already shallowly thrusting, and you choose to shut up.

Phillip knows best. Phillip would have waited if you were supposed to wait.

“Forgot how good virgin pussy feels.” His touch is possessive as his hands travels all over your body, exploring areas he’s already well acquainted with before gripping your hips once more. His thrusts are starting to get more aggressive, but you find that the pleasure outweighs the pain. All you can feel is Phillip.

For a second, you wonder how many girls he’s been with before. Then he leans down to give you a kiss, and you forget what you were worried about.

“Don’t worry too much, baby. Just relax, and let me fill your pussy. Then, I’ll take you out to your birthday dinner. How does that sound?”

Nice. It sounds nice. Actually, you wonder why you even cared about something as silly as a birthday celebration. Isn’t this good enough?

“Should I make you go out with no panties? You’re squeezing me so tightly, I bet your cunt can hold my cum all night.” He kisses your forehead, the action far too sweet, juxtaposing the rough thrusts of his hips slapping against yours. “Or maybe I’ve loosened you up too much, and it’ll just drip all over your thighs and onto the floor. Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

You moan, imagining the filthy scenario in your head. Everyone would see; how humiliating. How exhilarating.

“At least everyone would know that you’re. Fucking. Mine.” He starts to punctuate every word with an especially rough thrust, and you can only moan as you lie there, taking it all. Taking everything he’ll give to you, and turning it into something sacred.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!” You cry out, and you prove it. You’ve proved it by the slight blood painting his cock from when he took your virginity, and you prove it a step further by cumming all over his cock. This is the first time you’ve ever came on it; Phillip vows to make sure it’s not the last.

Even if it jeopardizes his own personal mission.

“Atta girl.” He groans out, practically hammering into you at this point. You’re fucked boneless, left to just serve as a cocksleeve as he chases after his own pleasure. Phillip is surprisingly meticulous. He’s usually better at keeping himself composed, never one to give in to instinctual, animalistic pleasure.

In the back of his mind, he knows the risk, has even calculated it. He’s never done something as stupid and reckless as fucking a girl raw.

But no girl has ever been as sweet as you, as trusting as you. It’s the lust talking as he imagines you as the mother of his children. You’d be kind and patient, teach them to be better. They wouldn’t become fuckups like him if you’re there to raise them.

He can see it. He’s always been good at envisioning his future. Coming home to you barefoot and carrying his kids isn’t so bad. It’d be nice. He’d build you your dream house, make sure you always stay bred and dripping with his cum, keep you safe.

All of these thoughts only serve to bring him to the edge, and he makes sure he’s as deep in you as possible as his warm cum shoots inside. He refuses to pull out, and you don’t tell him to. Why would you? You feel closer to him than ever, and he’s kissing your forehead now, cooing that you’ve been such a good girl for him.

You’re tired. You felt like you’ve barely done anything, and yet your eyes are droopy and your vision is getting blurred. You still find the strength to mumble it out, though.

I love you.

He freezes up immediately, but when he looks down at you, you’re already fast asleep.

He’s got you hook, line, and fucking sinker.

So why doesn’t he feel like celebrating?

“Dad, what’s going on?” Your confusion is evident on your face. Your father has his hands pinned to his back, and there are men in scary uniforms yelling at you, and you’re frozen in place. “Dad, tell them that this is a mistake!”

“I’m going to be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen to me.” Your dad’s words of reassurance do little to console you; it’s kind of hard to believe what he’s saying whenever he’s quite literally getting arrested by men who are supposed to respect him.

You’ve just gotten back from a date with Phillip. He had seemed a bit off, but you brushed aside his odd behavior as a result of his nervousness. After all, he ended up presenting you with a promise ring. You don’t think he’s ever given someone something so precious and important.

Your good mood obviously disappeared the moment you walked through your front door.

“You’re innocent. You know nothing. They’re going to make sure that you stay in a safe place while I’m gone, okay? Just do what they tell you, and wait for me to get back—”

“Dad, I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” The desperation and anxiety in your voice makes him frown, but there’s nothing he can do as the officers drag him out of the house. Despite your screams of protest, they don’t stop, and even you know hitting an officer would only make things worse. It’s not as if you could have done any real damage anyway.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The worst part is, you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

They’re calling your father a traitor. And by extension, you are one, too. A child is but a reflection of their parents, after all.

Your mother was an enemy spy, and your father knew. Even worse, he protected her. Broke his own moral code, broke the rules of his training, destroyed everything — all for her. The proof was hidden inside his own office, and you don’t even know how someone could have broken in to obtain such incriminating evidence.

Now everyone is treating you like a criminal, down to giving you only one phone call. Naturally, the only person you can think to phone is Phillip. He’ll understand. He’ll calm you down, explain everything to you because that’s just what he does. He’ll know what to do. He’ll get you out of this mess.

You bite down on your lip, impatiently waiting for him to pick up. Usually, he picks up after the second ring, but the dial tone goes on for what seems like ages until you hit the automated voicemail message. You frown, wondering if he’s been sent away. You try again for good measure, but he doesn’t pick up the second time, either. You’re about redial and try for a third time before the woman supervising you snatches the phone away.

“It’s supposed to be one call, remember?”

You don’t talk back, afraid to make things worse, but you don’t think it’s fair. Phillip didn’t even pick up for it to count as a phone call.

You try again and again. Every time they make you move to a different safehouse, you waste that one phone call opportunity on him, daring to hope that he’ll pick up.

After a month, the dial tone haunts you in your sleep.

Hindsight truly is 20/20. When you’re free from the haze of first loves and rebellion, when the smoke of lust has dissipated from the air, when you’re given nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, that’s when everything starts coming together.

That’s when you can see a traitor for what they are, not what they tell you to view them as.

On the way to the next safehouse, they had to stop at a gas station. You had to learn to be sneaky these days, and the old you would have felt incredibly guilty at the idea of stealing a pregnancy test, but you refuse to ask your handler for one. Pride is the cause — or maybe shame is more accurate.

Whatever the reason is, you find yourself locked up in a gas station bathroom, your worst fears confirmed.

#phillip graves x reader #modern warfare 2 #smut #graves x reader #cod x reader #angst #fluff #one shot #lemon #wttcsms winter writing week

[twogyuu]

memories of the quiet room

Pairing: Lee Chan x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which you foolishly give the former campus fuck boy, Lee Chan, a chance. 

Genre: Angst, mildly suggestive at one point, (misunderstood) former fuckboy!lee chan, office!au, colleagues/enemies-to-???

warnings: alcohol, profanity, suggestive

WC: ~2k

A/N: This was actually a spin-off of Love Me Out Loud that I never finished and in a sense, a "prequel" to this elevator 'what are we exactly?' drabble request (same couple that is).

Enjoy - I was in my Lee Chan feels 💀

. . . .

The heavy bass of the Y2K R&B pop song bounces off the wooden walls of the bar, covered in a unique combination of old movie posters and framed images of celebrities from your youth: Britney Spears, Mariah Carey, Usher, and the Black Eyed Peas. Elbow leaning against the bar, you bopped your head to the beat, eyes skimming over the upstairs floor. The Hennessy and Coke combo starts to settle into your veins, your limbs loosen and your body sways ever so slightly. Leslie and Dahyun had wandered off to greet a friend, promising you that they’d return and leaving you alone at the bar. 

It’s not that you were a loner and didn’t know people at this bar – it is one of the hottest spots in the city for young adults. You simply chose not to acknowledge them, such as your colleague Lee Chan and his goofy friends, Seokmin and Seungkwan, dancing in the corner of your eye. Seungkwan has his nose stuck on his phone, fingers furiously tapping away, crafting some seemingly lengthy message. The other two who let their limbs flow, their feet bouncing on beat. Every now and then, Chan would catch your eye, flashing a playful grin in your direction. You’d only shake your head and turn your attention to the other side of the room, pretending there is something more interesting to watch. 

In truth, you were actually interested in his friend, Lee Seokmin. He didn’t work with you guys, but you’ve seen him in Chan’s Instagram stories every now and then. On top of being gorgeous, his shaggy dark locks now overgrown and skimming over his warm crescent eyes, he had a bright and playful air about him that intrigued you. The disappointing thing is that he’s rather oblivious. Those looks were meant for him, not Chan. 

There’s a familiar presence that nears you and before you could register who it is, you find your hand encased in Chan’s as he gently tugs you towards the dance floor. His feet moves silly and his hips sway back and forth like an old man jamming to old school trot music. You can’t help but giggle a little at his dorky dance. 

“Dance with me?” he asks, reaching for your other hand.  

Despite your attitude, scoffing and rolling your eyes, you let him take it and pull you towards the middle. It’s fortunate the night is still young and the dance floor isn’t too crowded yet.  

Chan shoots you a look of plea as he straightens his posture. He’s still bouncing on his heels nonetheless, moving your loose arms and you let him. 

“C’mon,” he begs, a hint of desperation in his tone. 

You wonder if it’s the alcohol or you truly didn’t care tonight – it’s just dancing, what could go wrong?

Rather than answering him over the loud music as the song switches, the beat faster and more genial, you step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling your chest flush against Chan. He startles at the sudden change of act and bold move, but is quick to adjust, snaking his arms around your bare waist. A tingle shoots up your spine as his warm fingers press into your cool skin. You try your best to convince yourself that you’re not affected by the close proximity, but the way your heart is fluttering is undeniable. Holding you, he spins the both of you, adjusting his moves to match the tempo and you rush to keep up. A shrill escapes your lips as you clutch to hold on tight onto his shoulder. Your bodies fall in sync, allowing yourself to sway back and forth with him. 

Chan is full of surprises, however, suddenly pulling away and motioning for you to spin. You let him twirl you, tumbling into his chest after. Leaning in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, he shouts for you to spin him. A giggling mess you were, you comply and clumsily lift your linked hands for him to rush under. 

This isn’t too bad, you think to yourself. It’s actually kind of fun?

Nothing serious, just for the memories and laughs!

Getting lost in the ecstasy of the moment, you peer up at Chan. Your breath hitches, the smile you didn’t know you were harboring quickly falters when you see the expression painted across his face. His eyes are glistening, the club lights bouncing off his dark orbs like stars dotting the galaxy. He looks at you with such adoration and yearning, his shit-eating, flirtatious grin now replaced with a timid half-smile. It’s that look the male lead in a teenage rom-com has when he finally gets the girl at the end. It’s how Patrick Dempsey looks at Cindy when she shares his poems with him for the first time. It’s how Nicholas looks at Mia in the crown room when he professes his love for the future queen. It’s how Matt looks at Jenna before he kisses her when they jump off the swing set. 

The corner of Chan’s mouth twitches up and he leans in once more. His hand moves up your back pressing you close to him and asks calmly yet confidently, “Can I kiss you?”

Unlike times where you’re furious with him at the office, you’re not sure what’s different in this moment that makes you do what’s next to come. Perhaps it is the alcohol; maybe it was the recent breakup with Juyeon that has you reckless; or you’re in your ‘me’ era and you just want to have fun. It’s your turn now, smirking and clasping your hands behind the nape of his neck, your fingers brushing against the fringes of his dark locks. Chan is close enough, where all you need to do is tip your chin forward and your lips meet. Noses bumping, Chan tilts his head to better adjust to you and your lips lock. It burns, sending a warmth down your throat and fueling the fire threatening to explode in your chest. Your hands come around to cup his jaw, pressing him closer to you while his explores the expanse of your waist. Like he can't get enough of you, he bends forward even more, threatening to fold you backwards. He licks the seal of your lips, quietly asking for access and you let him in, nearly molding perfectly to slot against one another. Lungs aflame, you part every now and then to come up for air. Chan is breathless, each sigh hot and fanning against your lips. You could only imagine you’re probably the same. 

The rest of the night passes by in ignorant bliss. You end up spending it with Chan – you’re inseparable. Hands linked, he leads you through the club, be it dancing or resting by the bar. More than that one kiss is shared, some equally passionate, some fleeting yet still equally sweet. 

By the time Leslie and Dahyun finally find you and drag you home, it’s already late. The farewell is too fast, neither of you barely getting a word in, partially because Dahyun is eager to get you to hang out with the girls and Seokmin is drunk as fuck, grasping and pulling at Chan. 

“I’ll text you later tonight – get home safe.” 

Those are Chan’s last words that he leaves you with after planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. 

. . . .

Chan doesn’t text you.

He doesn’t text you on Saturday, he doesn’t text you on Sunday. 

He certainly doesn’t text you on Monday when you have to return to work. 

As his radio silence ensues, your guilt and shame grows. You felt used and played. Indeed, to some extent you also used Chan for your own leisure, but for some reason, you feel all the worse. You didn’t do anything if you really think about it, but you still feel terrible. He probably doesn’t feel this way, having been the campus fuck boy four years ago – he’s used to this, girls throwing themselves at him. You, on the other hand, have never done this before. You were a commitment girl in the hookup era!

Let alone, your mother warned you about boys like Lee Chan: charming, playful, and bold, but they were walking red flags who were going to break your heart and weren’t there to stay. She knew and you didn’t listen. 

But, were you expecting Chan to stay? 

That’s a foolish thought: You weren’t special! Neither of you belonged to one another – you weren’t in a relationship. You are just another girl to be added to his long list of past flings and one-night stands. 

Preoccupied with these thoughts, you’re barely present at work mentally. Mindlessly, you organize your folders and only open documents to stare at the cursor blinking on a blank white page. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends.

“Did Chan kiss you silly that night or something?” Leslie teases at lunch. She munches on her carrot and gestures to your figure. “Earth to Y/N? You’re so out of it today.”

You look up, blinking at her owlishly. 

Dahyun bumps your shoulder. “Real talk: what’s going on between the two of you? I thought you hated each other,” and to deliver the final blow, Dahyun also adds in a hushed voice, “Plus, it’s Lee Chan – I’ve never seen him that whipped for anyone. He bounces from girl to girl at the club faster than the Easter bunny hides his damn eggs.”

This only makes you feel smaller. You shrink back, amidst their laughter at Dahyun’s joke. When your silence ensues, they quiet unsteadily, knowing something is truly wrong. 

“Hey,” Leslie starts slowly. She shrugs, “What’s up?”

You open your mouth and then close it again, unsure what to say. 

“Don’t tell me,” Dahyun says hesitantly, “You have feel–”

“Hey!”

You look up from your untouched lunch to find Chan grinning happily and standing at the edge of your lunch table. His hair is slicked back; the matching suit jacket of his outfit probably left back in his cubicle because he’s only in his white button up with the sleeves rolled up, his hands stuffed in the gray suit pants. 

Chan frowns at your blank expression, sensing that something isn’t right. “You alright?”

You falter for a moment before forcing a strained smile. “Y-yeah,” you stammer. 

Chan’s eyes flicker to your friends then back to you. He contemplates for a moment, but proceeds, “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he flashes you one of his boyish smiles, “Catch you after work? Coffee?”

Oh. 

Oh.

This is never good. “Wanting to talk” usually only meant one thing: he didn’t want to see you again – at least, not like that. He’s going to tell you Friday night was a one-off thing; nothing was serious, so he wants to stop everything there. 

You know this conversation – you’ve seen Leslie and Dahyun cry about them one too many times, and now you’re going to be one of those idiot girls. 

But why? Why are you so hurt and worked up over this? Did you not want it to be a one-off thing? Did you want Lee Chan to like you? Did you like Lee Chan? Did you want Lee Chan?

Your head is spinning with questions and you fear you might pass out right there. There’s only one thing to do now and what you know what to do best: beat Chan to it. 

Standing abruptly, you look Chan in the eye and announce robotically, “I don’t think that’s a good idea – like Friday night.” You ignore the look of surprise and hurt flashing across his face. “Let’s just . . . stop here.”

You don’t bother to grab your lunch, stepping out from in front of him, you speed towards the stairs, knowing the elevators of this cursed office building takes too damn long, if he chased after you, he’d catch you. 

What the heck– why are you expecting him to chase after you?

(But will he?). 

You don’t leave room to find out, pushing through the exit and running down the stairs towards the exit. You don’t even realize tears are too streaming down your hot cheeks.

This is what you get for trying to have fun – bright idea to do it with notorious once campus fuck boy. 

#lee chan x reader #lee chan angst #lee chan smut #lee chan scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen smut

[sprout-fics]

Cornered

(König x F! Reader)

Part Three of Little Mouse

Word count: 2.1k Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Close calls, (Dark) Knight in shining armor, Implied threats of kidnapping/abduction, Cat and mouse, Hunter/Prey, Ghost and Soap to the rescue, Injury, Blood, König being a BAMF, Enemies to lovers Warnings: Generalized violence, including gunshot wounds A/N: This is a longer, more detailed version of Hurt, which is now removed from the masterlist as it's been converted into a chapter

You're hurt.

It's just a graze, thank God. Skimming across your upper thigh as you dove for cover, the burn bright, vicious as you yell in pain. There's a brief pop of gunfire as you drag yourself further into your hiding spot, crouching in the shade of the building's exterior. You had managed to see the glint of the sniper's rifle in the afternoon sun just in time, narrowly escaping what could have been a fatal wound.

"I'm hit." You rasp into the comms, and the hand on your leg comes away red, grip trembling as you force yourself to breathe past the pain. "Enemy sniper on building B."

"Is it him?" A voice crackles through on your radio. Gaz.

"No." Comes a response, quieter, angry. Ghost. "It's not."

It takes a moment for you to settle your nerves, heart beating too fast to keep track of the world around you. There's a curse curling across your tongue, the result of being distracted, of being caught unaware while your thoughts were stalked by him.

König. He's here.

You don't know how but you do. It isn't the first time it's happened. It seems that with every mission you and the team set out on in this region the chances of seeing him only increase, spiking like the pressure inside your veins. You catch glimpses of him, the executioner hood blending with the shadows, the massive frame of him ducking out of sight a moment too late.

It feels more than a coincidence. You know now that this mysterious company that is intent on thwarting your missions in the same one he belongs to. Yet the information remains scarce. Not even Laswell, with her intelligence prowess, is able to fully discern their origins or intentions. Even so, they seem to be there, an enigmatic private military that stands in opposition to the 141.

And König. He's among them.

Since your abduction and consequent escape, release, the team has been ever vigilant regarding your kidnapper. You had confessed to them he hadn't tortured you, had interrogated you but then released you, like a cat toying with a mouse. They know he haunts your thoughts, clouding the haze of your mind with confusion about his intentions, about him. They see him just as you do, catch a mere flash of him before he lobs a grenade, a flashbang, sends gunfire raining down on your allies.

But never you.

Which is why the sniper who shot you isn't him. You know that, and Ghost seems to know it too, his eyes watchful, ever observant. The lieutenant of all people seems to hover closer to you now, after the fact, seeing the way your eyes go glassy and your steps falter as a sighting of him filters over the comms. Protective, vigilant in the way only he is- silently, subtly, never speaking and letting only his presence offer you a shadow in which to hide in.

"Then where the fuck is he?" Soap hisses, and you hear the echo of gunfire on his side, a reverberation of the world around you. You wish you knew the answer to his question, could take a moment to find out, but you're preoccupied with the shooter forward of your position, the one preventing you from making your way towards your target.

"I-I don't know." You gasp back into the comms, grunting as you press down on the gush of blood against your thigh. "Fuck!"

"Are you broken?" Now it's Price's voice, gruffing over the radio, and his words are obscured by static and the sound of gunfire.

"No sir."

"Good. Fall back and RV with Ghost. He-"

You hear the shattered glass behind you crackle a moment too late.

"Contact-!" You gasp into the radio, spinning to lift your weapon, trying desperately to wobble to a stand despite your injury.

The man approaching you has his blade drawn, goggles fitted and obscuring his eyes. The alleyway between the buildings casts a half-shadow across his form, slanted so the sun glints off the combat knife in his grip. You caught him mid step, and as you turn you lift your weapon, trying to level it at him and get a clean shot despite the tremble in your hands-

Yet your eyes focus not on him, but the massive figure that rises behind him.

"Rookie? Rookie, come in!"

Executioner's hood. Gleaming, red rimmed eyes. His own blade twice the size.

The knife in König's grip slices into your attacker's flesh like it's butter, digging in between the fourth and fifth rib just as a massive, black gloved hand reaches out to muffle the man's scream. You think that's it but the knife retreats, drawing a bright stream of red before it descends again, twice, three times. The fourth is right into your attacker's neck, and when König rips the blade away the man slumps. Dead.

"Ghost, do you have eyes on Rookie?!"

You can't respond to the frantic voices over your radio, and even though your weapon is in your grip, your hands shake, tremble at the raw, bloody display of brute strength you just witnessed. König lets the man crumple to the ground, lifeless, and briefly his eyes trace the body.

Then they flash to you.

The knife in his grip gleams red. There's blood splattered across his tac vest. He dwarfs you, his shadow casting a silhouette across your figure. When you look to his eyes, it's emptiness. A void here only violence exists.

"K-König." You manage, and your voice is choked in your throat, constricted like the harsh grip of an enemy as you desperately try and fumble for your radio, switch on to relay your position-

A hand catches yours.

"Careful, Maus." He warns, and you don't know how he managed to close the distance between you so fast. The lilting accent of his voice is startling, pulling the ground out from under your feet as your mind races back to that day, to when his paradoxical care of you contrasted with the way he'd taken you, form limp and wavering in and out of consciousness even as you tried to cry out, to protest.

Your eyes find his against your will, and you hate how your hand shakes in his grip, his fist easily encircling your wrist. His stare gleams down at you, bright, focused with an intent that sends something forbidden stirring inside you.

"Let's talk in private." He tells you, and your blood is rushing in your ears, thrumming like rapids that threaten to drag you under, choke your lungs. Like a wardrum, you feel your pulse beat against his clenched fingertips. It should be enough to bruise. König's strength means he could snap the bone in half if he wanted to. Yet instead, his thumb grazes on the inside of your wrist, under your glove, and you shudder.

"Where is she? Why isn't she answering?!"

"They let you get hurt." König observes, and there's a whine to his voice, strangely petulant as his gaze takes in the soaked fabric across your thigh. The blood is dripping down to your ankle now, oozing red warmth. You feel like if he sees it, if he sees that scarlet hue he might see inside you as well, to the place where a forbidden, frightened curiosity dwells.

The pain comes racing back at once, washing over you like the sudden conflagration of a wildfire, and all at once you struggle, raise your voice to wherever your teammates hide. If you can contact them, let them know where you are-

"Ghost!" You cry, but your voice cracks high in your throat even as you try to press away, startled and unsure. "LT-!"

"It's okay, Maus." König hushes as his hand settles over your mouth, hovering in a gentle warning. You still instantly, traitorously compliant to his touch. Your eyes meet his. They burn like stars, an inexhaustible energy that sears you to the touch.

He could kill you, right here, right now, could snap you in half. Yet he doesn't. Instead, his voice is low, rumbling with a strange interest, a fixation that has you trembling where you stand.

"I'll take better care of you." König murmurs, and the flames inside you burn brighter, mimicking the strange flicker of interest, of curiosity behind his gaze. Yet his words are enough to make you flinch in his grasp, recognizing the threat for what it is.

He's going to take you.

"Rookie?! Rookie answer me!"

You can't. Even without König's hand over your mouth you're not sure if you'd be able to speak. You're frozen where you stand, back pressed against the crumbling brick wall, one of his hands catching your own as it reaches for the radio, the other gently cupping the bottom half of your face. His eyes, piercing like unfiltered starlight. Gleaming. You can only stare up at him, heart in your throat. Caught, cornered like the mouse he sees you as.

He sees you, sees the way your eyes cloud over with fear, and suddenly there's a stillness there, a perplexity at your terror. König tilts his head at you, blinking slowly, watching the way you shudder at the motion.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Maus." He murmurs, and it's an echo of that day, when he'd towered over your injured form, his hands surprisingly tender as they ensured you weren't broken, dying.

It hurts how much you want to believe him, how much you want to trust in his words. Yet the threat of being taken once more, separated from your allies pulses brightly in your veins, hot to the touch even as it leaks out of your thigh, down your leg.

Then- a flash.

Your eyes dart up, over his shoulder, and you see a flash of bone-white just as Ghost levels his scope at your captor.

Yet you've given him away, and as your eyes dart to your lieutenant König follows them, whipping around and then darting out of Ghost's vision.

Your body reacts on pure instinct, freeing yourself from where you stand against the ruined wall and dancing out of König's outstretched grasp as he tries to claim you once more.

"Go!" A voice barks into your radio, and you're already following the command, limping out of the alleyway as a shot pings where you'd stood only a moment prior. If König tried to pursue you, you don't see.

The world blurs around you, fading to oscillating shapes and colors, and you react on pure adrenaline, fleeing from the shadow the presence behind you.

When there's suddenly arms around you, securing you, your voice cracks as a gasp in your throat, and you squirm in their hold.

"Hey, HEY!" A familiar voice calls, and you look up into steel blue eyes clouded with concern.

"S-Soap." You manage, and you're trembling, trying to find gravity even as he ushers you into a nearby building, the windows blown out.

"That's right, Rookie. It's me." He grins down at you, and you're sliding down under the window, out of sight. Shaking,  unfocused, you let him guide you, submit to his steadying hands as he conceals you both.

His hands are on your thigh, and when he presses down you hiss at the touch, pain flaring to life once more. it grounds you, drags out away from the fog of confusion, of shock clouding your thoughts.

"Shit!" You curse, and you see Soap's brow knit as his hands come away red.

"It's just a hickey," He tells you, and even when he smiles there's still a bit of worry there- an after effect of dragging you to safety. "It's not deep. You'll be fine, Rookie."

You can only nod, trying to regain focus, trying to shake the feeling of hands on you. The pulse against your wrist still flutters inside a phantom touch, the sun cast dark by a massive shadow.

"Soap." Ghost's voice crackles over the comms. "We're getting exfil. Fall back."

"Copy that LT."

Then Soap turns to you, and his arms are around you as he hauls you to your feet, slings an arm around your shoulder, helps you limp from the shadow of the building into the sunlight. Gunfire pops around you, and you can hear Price's voice barking orders over the radio, his voice sharp, commanding.

Yet Soap's voice is surprisingly quiet, restrained when he grits at you, eyes sharp like daggers.

"Did he hurt you?" He asks, and his words are low, a threat, dripping with venom.

You want to hazard a glance over your shoulder, checking your six for the sound of broken glass and a knife gleaming in the sunlight.

"No." You pant as you limp alongside him.

"He…saved my life."

Taglist:

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(If you'd like to be added to the taglist please reply to this post!)

#König #könig x reader #Konig x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw22 #reader insert #my writing #my fic #fic: little mouse #I'm really surprised at how popular this fic is getting #People really like a beefy boy huh

[iliketangerines]

Hello, I was wondering if I could request a lord Raiden x amab reader scenario along the lines of mk 11 Johnny Cages bachelor party and him and the other defenders of earthrealm go to a 👀 club. Lord Raiden, after being playfully bullied into going catches eyes for one of the dancers, and antics follow...

I absolutely adore your writing and hope you have a wonderful day/evening/night <3

a siren to you

a/n: okay, so i might've lowkey forgot about the amab part, but lord raiden still fucks you either way so

pairing: lord raiden x gn!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), blowjobs, cowboy

Lord Raiden sits at one of the tables, dressed in something he has never really worn but much more comfortable than his usual uniform

Johnny had somehow managed to convince him to come to the strip club for his bachelor party, and he feels nervous

he had never spent time at any establishment like this before, had never had the need to go to one, and now he was here while the others sit around him

he sips on a fruity drink, not really wanting to drink any alcohol, you never knew when enemies might show up, but Johnny was thoroughly drunk

he was laughing loudly, gushing about Sonya Blade and how beautiful and perfect she was to Jax, who pats his back and records a video of Johnny drunkenly telling a stranger about his fiance

Raiden looks to the stage in the middle, watching the dancers go and do their moves on the pole, but he doesn’t really have an interest in the sparkles and scandalous thongs

Raiden continues to just observe the bar, trying to seem normal, although it was hard with his broad and tall frame, but no one really seemed to care thankfully enough

he reaches for his hat to tilt it down, but his hand passes through the air

he remembers that his uniform is gone, his white hair tied up into a neat bun and sunglasses perched along his nose to hide his glowing eyes

he sighs and opts to pinch the bridge of his nose as someone loudly announces the next person to come on, and Raiden lazily brings his attention to the stage

you emerge from the curtains, hips swaying back and forth as you circle around the pole, blowing kisses to the crowd and winking at them

Raiden feels himself flush, unsure as to the reason why, and he pulls at the neck of his shirt as he watches you start your routine

it’s a flash of legs and your barely clothed crotch, and you stick out your tongue and your ass every so often for the crowd, money flying up onto the stage every time you do so

he can see you smile and laugh, and as the music changes you prance off the stage, walking through the tables and tilting the chin up of several people, teasing them with your touch

you approach him, eyes glancing up and down his figure, and you do the same to him, tracing his jawline with your fingers

Raiden feels his heart thump in his chest and a slight flush creep up his neck as you do so, but you sit down on his lap, the crowd cheering loudly as you grind your hips into his lap

his hands twitch by his sides, unsure if he should hold onto your hips, and you give him a lap dance, grinding yourself into his lap before standing up and pushing your chest into his face and walking around his chair

Raiden isn’t sure of how to react, but he can feel his cock hardening underneath his pants and his hands clench, wanting to hold onto you

you get so close to kissing him, and he’s sure that you can feel how his cock presses into your crotch through his pants when you sit on his lap again

but all you do is wink and smile at him as you get off him and go back to the stage, twirling and spinning on the pole a few more times, spreading your legs wide

Raiden wants to be in between them, he’s sure of that, and he watches your hips sway as you gather the money on stage and leave

he puts a hand to the back of his mouth, trying to control him, and he abruptly stands up to leave, needing to calm himself down

he bids a farewell to Johnny, telling him to not go too hard, before leaving and breathing in the cold night air of the city

he walks into the alleyway, intent on disappearing in a flash of lightning, but he finds you in the alleway, dressed in a coat taking a drag of a cigarette

he freezes in the entrance, and you glance at him, tensing up as Raiden stands dumbfounded in the entrance, unsure of what to do

he backs up and puts his hands up, apologizing for bothering you, and he leaves, walking to a different secluded part of the street to disappear and return to his home

he takes off his sunglasses and takes his hair down from the bun, letting the strands frame his face as he lays in his bed

he’s never really used it before, not needing to sleep as a god

but still, he buries himself into the sheets, fingers carding through his hair as his other hand dips down below his waistband to pump at his cock

he strokes himself, groaning at the image of you in his head, and he swipes his thumb over the tip, spreading his pre-cum along his shaft

he hadn’t done this in decades, never really feeling the need to have a prtner, and yet you had awoken something inside of him that needed to be satiated

he pants into the air, pressing the back of his hand into his face as he pumps himself faster to the thought of you

how your lips would stretch around his cock, how you would hum and moan as he fucks into your face, how your lipstick would smear around him

you were so much smaller compared to him, and he would ruin you, possibly lose control of himself

his mind flashes with the image of you tearing up as you take him all the way down your throat, gagging and choking as his length presses heavy into your tongue

Raiden lets out a grunt at the image in his hand, and he imagine how you would look on top of him, riding him as you tease him

you would trail your nails down his body as you ride him slowly, teasing him as he moans for more, and you would coo at him

he would beg for me, for you to go faster, do anything, and you would just smile at him as you grind down onto his thick cock

but finally, you would let up and fuck him properly, slamming your hips down onto his as you bounced on his cock, and Raiden would be reduced down to a whimpering mess

Raiden grunts as he cums into his hand, pumping himself until he’s finished his high, and he stares up into the ceiling panting as he thinks of you

would you be sweet? cruel? teasing? Raiden wants to know

he cover his face with the back of his palm, face flushing at the memory of you grinding against him in the club

he’s back at the club the next week

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 11 #mk11 #mortal kombat smut #mk smut #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #raiden #lord raiden #raiden mk11 #mk11 raiden #raiden smut #raiden x reader #raiden x you #raiden x y/n

[cowboylor]

mean streak ii.

read part i here

pairing: austin!elvis presley x fem!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns)

wc: 3k

warnings: (18+) smut, piv, underlying dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, thigh-riding, dirty talk, spit, cock-warming, slight degradation, enemies to lovers, established age gap, alcohol consumption, no use of y/n, they are so slutty but kind of sweet

note: i’m so embarrassed and elvis-porned out. 

Your early departure from his show wasn’t expected. You really did plan to stay and at least try to play nice with everyone. But before the lights even dimmed you found yourself wandering to the nearest bar and wincing slightly when lowering your sore body onto the stool. 

That was hours ago. You nurse your third martini. 

To Elvis’s dismay, you weren’t waiting for him in his suite. And after wandering through the International with his entourage in tow he unexpectedly found you at one of the bars surrounded by young patrons vying for your attention. 

When he calls out your name, you barely cast him a glance. You’re much too engaged in a riveting conversation with a guy who sports an impressive-looking mustache. 

Elvis is temporarily stunned. 

How could you ignore him? He had you bent over his lap not even four hours ago and now you’re ignoring him?

���Baby,” He greets again, sliding between you and the man, abruptly bringing the conversation to a halt. He’s surprised to find you looking at him with a bored expression, as if you’re just merely tolerating him. He furrows his brow, eyes flitting over towards the man behind him, “Am I interrupting something?”

Your “yes” is simultaneous with your company's “no”. He appears either starstruck or intimidated because he immediately raises his hands in a surrender-like fashion before rambling something along the lines of “she’s all yours”. 

God, you could puke. 

You scoff, watching as Elvis settles into the now vacant seat. “I had a feeling you were the jealous type.”

“Who’s jealous, baby?” He quips, motioning for the bartender. “Besides you don’t need him to buy your drinks when I’m here. What’re drinking? Shirley Temple?”

You dead-pan at his attempt to tease you before reluctantly taking the last swig of your drink. “I don’t need you to buy my drinks.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because, Elvis,” You huff, eyes blazing as you noisily get up from your chair. “I’m fucking rich.”

You storm out of the area while looping your clutch purse over your shoulder. Elvis follows loosely behind and calls out your name again. He manages to catch you as you wait by the elevator. 

“Thought you were visiting tonight.”

Will you come to my suite later? The words have been echoing in your mind repeatedly since he first said them. You press the elevator button again just for good measure. 

“Guess I’ve changed my mind.” You quickly snap.

He considers your words, eyes glossing over you without saying anything more. His stare makes you infuriated, but his silence is what makes your heart drop slightly. You thought for sure he would at least try to persuade you.

The elevator dings, signifying its arrival. You turn away from him. 

“I think you’ll come.”

You fight the inner urge to roll your eyes, settling for a raised eyebrow and sardonic expression, “Really? Why’s that?”

He chuckles, leaning into to whisper, “Cause you’re a good girl.”

Your mind sputters momentarily, but you try to recover with an unconvincing smirk, “I don’t have the slightest idea of what you mean.” 

He lets out a “hm” as he leans closer. His fingertips ghost your upper lip, as if tracing the outline of them. The sneer falls off your face. 

Your mouth runs dry and maybe it shouldn’t, considering his thumb is edging it’s way past your lips in the lobby and you’re just letting it happen. The thought of him having you again in this way makes your head spin, makes your throat dry up, but makes your thighs clench tight together most of all.

The elevator doors open and you enter before you can muster up a coherent response. He bids you a goodnight, before turning on his heel. 

You exhale loudly when the doors shut. 

“Oh, fuck me.”

+

You almost turn around ten times. And you almost let the elevator close shut completely. But you force yourself to enter the hallway, uncharacteristically brushing down your silky dress in an attempt to calm your even more uncharacteristic nerves. 

You’re told he’s busy by his security and you would need to wait a moment before you can see him. 

Quietly, you don’t mind. It gives you a chance to think about how you’ve waited the entire weekend before actually coming up to his suite. An entire three days. You’re practically prehistoric history to him by now. 

The double doors open suddenly and two bombshells file out of the room. Your jaw clenches slightly at the sight of them, even though you know it shouldn’t. You don’t glance back at his preening entourage before you enter the suite.

You stop in your tracks when you catch sight of Elvis sprawled out on his sofa. His red-trimmed, navy robe is tied loosely around his waist and his hair isn’t confined by its usual gel-like product. His sunglasses dangle slightly on the bridge of his nose as he grins at the sight of you.

“Baby.” He greets. 

You are in hell. 

“You don’t waste time.” You comment, crossing the room. 

He chuckles, swishing the contents of his glass around. “Now who’s jealous?”

“Of you?" You tut, opting to stand directly in front of him. His legs are spread apart and you let your eyes linger for a moment. “Never.”

He shakes his hand dismissively, taking a sip from his whiskey, before sitting up straighter. “Good. There’s no need to be.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugs like it’s obvious. “They’re too... nice.”

“And it’s my cold-hearted bitch persona that really gets your rocks off?”

He hums, as if actually pondering your words (you shoot him a look of contempt) before decidedly shaking his hand. “That’s not it.”

“No?” You muse, coming dangerously close to dropping to your knees so you could kneel between his legs. You meet his eyes that peer over the top of his sunglasses. “What is it then?”

Elvis motions for you to come closer. You lower yourself to the carpet before inching closer to him. He trails his hand down the side of your face as you prop yourself up on his knees. His fingertip grazes the opening of your mouth. 

“You’re only good for me. Nobody else.”

Before you can think twice about it, you take his index finger in your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around it as he watches you with a perplexed expression. He’s quick to shift in his seat and watch you with intent, groaning quietly when you look up at him. 

“You ever touch yourself, baby?” He asks. 

Your tongue runs over the pad of his fingertip, and you almost don’t hear his question. 

“Nothing?” He chuckles at your lack of response. “Usually I can’t shut you up. Need it that bad?”

You slide off his finger. 

“I do.” He watches you, his eyebrow arching in surprise. You feel your face heat up. Who the fuck are you? You clarify, “I do touch myself, I mean.”

He hums lowly, pushing two fingers past your lips, splitting your mouth open farther. “What do you think about?”

His fingers hook at the corner of your lips, pulling your mouth open. His eyes focus, like he’s inspecting how wide he can stretch you. Then he removes his fingers and presses the pad of his thumb roughly against your lower lip.

“I,” You huff, resisting the urge to purse your lips around the finger. “I don’t know. Just let me suck you off, Elvis. I-”

He’s quick to shush you, rubbing your bottom lip in a circular motion with his thumb. 

“Baby, you’re ok,” He says. “Just wanna know what you like. Because I can give you anything you want.”

Anything you want.

You ponder his words, speechless as he patiently waits for an answer.

“Sometimes,” You clear your throat, your hands still stationary on his knees. He hums, encouraging you to go on. “I just think of a guy.”

“It’s a start.” He grins.

“But,” You say, averting his eyes for the first time. But he doesn’t let you shy away, using his hand to instead raise your chin up towards him. When you make eye contact, you confess, “He’s older.”

“Older.” Elvis tests the word, clicking his tongue. 

You feel your temperature rising as he rubs his lips together, the corners of his mouth pulling into a gratifying smirk. 

He pinches the bottom of your chin, lightly. “How old?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know, just older than me. Please, just...”

Trailing off, you look at him pleadingly. 

“Come up here,” He slaps his thigh. You jump up, quickly moving to straddle his lap but he tuts gently. You furrow your brow as he prevents your hips from settling on his lap. “Want you to fuck yourself here.”

Your gaze falls down to his partially exposed leg. 

Groaning, your head falls back. 

“Come on, baby, don’t fuss.” He’s quick to situate you above his thigh. You tilt your head, and he snorts a laugh at the unimpressed expression you give him. 

Elvis lifts the hem of your dress, his eyes flickering from yours to the fabric repeatedly as if he’s worried you’ll spontaneously pull away from him. He experimentally fingers the band of your underwear, fighting a boyish smile at the blush pink color. 

“You shouldn’t have,” He chides, moving to slowly pull down your panties. 

Once you step out of them, he swiftly reaches down to pocket them. You almost tease him about it. But before giving you the chance, he’s already pressing you down onto his thigh. You shudder softly as you meet his bare skin. 

Experimentally, you rub yourself against him, and you do it again until your taking shallow breaths and screwing your eyes shut as you build up momentum. 

He wraps one arm around your waist to steady you and uses the other to take a long swig from his glass. “Just like that; take care of that sweet pussy for me.”

Your dress was beginning to bunch up at the waist and you feel closer to tears the longer you swivel your hips against him. You’re just about to lay your head against his shoulder when he bounces his knee up abruptly, making you choke and grip the material of his robe tighter. 

“Shit,” You sigh, as he brings you in closer, his knee creating a slow rhythm against your core. Throwing your head back, you repeat the same sentiment, “Oh shit.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “Mean streak and a foul mouth.” 

“Elvis,” You plead. “Elvis.”

He only shushes you and you scowl, but you quickly forget about his patronizing as he continues to bounce his knee at a faster pace, edging you back and forth. You bury yourself into his shoulder, muffling your gasps as you draw your hips forward.

“Fuck me as much as you hate me,” You beg, wrapping your hands around his neck, pressing your body down to meet his leg. 

“You don’t get it.” He chuckles, his voice ringing out in your ear.  “Could never hate you, darlin’.”

He’s quick to work on the zipper of your dress, roughly fumbling with the top clip before finally zipping down the backside. Yanking down the straps, he guides you off his knee, motioning for you to lie down on the black couch.

You shift against the cushions as he shrugs off his robe. Watching him, you note how strong his arms look in this lighting. And how the hair on his chest really does wonders for his overall physique. As he hovers over you, you reach out to touch his chest.

“Sometimes I think about you.” You admit, quietly. 

“Is that right?” He says, pulling your legs forward to wrap around his waist. You nod gently as he leans over you, brushing your nose with his. “A pretty thing like you?”

You lean forward to kiss up his jawline.

“Thinking of an older guy like me?”

When he pushes into you, you gasp and curl into him. He groans as he fills you out, hissing quietly when you decide to rake your fingernails down his back.

You share a look. Bringing your fingers back up his back, you almost apologize. Almost. He pulls out abruptly to just ram his hips back into yours again. You barely stifle your scream as you dig your nails into his back shoulders.

“Oh, fuck me.” 

You basically inhale him; his scent, his sounds, and especially the way his body reacts when he’s inside you. Your body practically melts into his in this position. The difference in intimacy this time is so stark it makes you almost embarrassed. 

His pace, however, is familiar. 

“Elvis,” You moan out, his skin slapping harshly against yours. One particular thrust has you writhing under him, shifting your body slightly as your back arches into him. 

He reaches down and brushes your clit with his fingertip, making you twist into the cushion even more. You mewl, removing your hands from his shoulders to claw at his hand that is slowly starting to toy with your cunt.

“Relax.” He growls, his hips slowing briefly to push away your hands, pinning your wrists at the sides of your head. You breathe out loudly as you peer up at him. He presses deep into you as he leans forward to kiss your forehead. A noncommunicative way of saying “behave”. 

And you do. 

He goes back to his calculated pace, drawing his hips back and forth while his hand returns to fondle between your legs. 

His thrusts become more frantic as he circles your clit hastily, carefully watching your face. You throw your head back, whining into your closed mouth as he harshly amps up his movement.

Elvis mutters something into your ear but you can’t make out the words because your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you can only zero in on one sense right now. You’re close. You’re so fucking close. 

Slightly breaking your promise to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to wrap your arms around his neck. Pulling him down so your glistening forehead is resting on his, you gasp out, “Am I still your good girl?”

You knew how to push him over the edge. 

His pace increases while his thrusts become less coordinated. He reaches around to prop your leg over his shoulder, stretching your muscles while using the new leverage to fuck you deeper. Your stomach coils tighter at the depth, practically leaving you convulsing around him as he grows sloppier.

“That’s right” he’s saying repeatedly. It sends chills down your body as he grunts it out when rutting into you. You whine loudly, resting your leg over his shoulder while he mutters, “Those boys could never fuck you like I can.”

You’re out of breath and panting when he comes. He buries his face into your neck, and moans into your skin, sending your nervous system into overload as you squirm underneath his body weight. But you still wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him impossibly close to you. You’re confident you would rather have him crush you under his weight than be apart from him. 

He moves to prop himself up but you tug him back down, practically crying out, “Don’t pull out!”  

Elvis stares at you quizzically, watching as your dilated eyes glance between him and where your bodies connect. You can tell he suppresses an amused chuckle, and you feel oddly thankful for it when he kisses your cheek and doesn’t pull out of you just yet.

As you come down from your high, you shift to grab ahold of his arms.

“Never took you as a romantic.” He teases in reference to your legs wrapping around his waist, keeping him deeply pressed into you. “Should I be prepared to stay here like this forever?” 

You only hum at the taunt, eyelids feeling heavy as you opt to trail your lips up his jaw until you reach the corner of his mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, he watches your movements carefully, his breath hitching as you press your mouth into his. 

Your lips part and you felt temporarily stunned. Sure, he’s inside you but kissing him was never exactly part of the game you two played. You watch to gauge his reaction.

To your relief, he smiles. Not even a smirk. A real smile. 

“What was that?” You question, the corners of your mouth fighting off the grin that threatens to break through. “A smile? Does a mere kiss from me have you blushing like a maid?”

He shushes your laughter, shaking his head at your giddy state, but you don’t mind. You continue to tease him, even going as far to brush stray hair from his face, combing it back as you murmur sweet sentiments that you would imagine are only reserved for real lovers. 

“Don’t ruin it, baby.” Elvis muses, his low voice sending shivers down your body. “Besides, you can’t talk to me like that when I’ve got you in this position.”

You cast one glance down towards your compromising embrace, before leaning in to whisper, “Do your worst.” 

#elvis presley imagine #elvis presley smut #elvis movie #elvis x reader #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #austin!elvis x reader #fic #*my writing

[kenny-the-ken]

hello! if your requests are open i’d like to req mysterion x fem!villain!reader (aka shes on Prof. Chaos’ side :D) and she’s like a little harley quinn with mysterion? like even tho she’s on the enemies side she’s so clingy and flirty with mysterion :) !! even when their in battle she’s always missing on purpose, and if her teammates call her out for it or anyone else she’ll jus be like “i could never 🤗! i hate the freedom pals!🥺”

headcanons would be nice if you wanna do them but if you wanna do a full fic im not stopping you! :3 (if you wanna make this nsfw age him up pleas 🙏❤️)

Superhuman Lovers Pt 2

ALL AGED UP CHARACTERS!! I age up in every fanfic/headcannons I write! So, I wrote something like this a few days ago, and it blew the fuck up!! So... this request is very similar, so why not have a part two,,, this one's just as steamy as last time, if you can believe that!! Warnings!! Angst, strong language, derogatory remarks/phrases, choking, no protection, intercourse. You can read Part 1 HERE!

Here you both stood, as Shakespeare once said, two star crossed lovers. You and Mysterion had been secretly dating for the past few months, and luckily for you both, the streets at South Park seemed a little safer, that was till a little chaos was caused.

You'd warned Kenny of the brutal attack, so Freedom Pals were well prepared, and as both teams stood face to face atop a high rise just outside South Park, the pale moonlight the only thing lighting the battleground. And you watched closely, your eyes fixing on your partner's.

You smirked, sending him a wink, and he had to act completely disgusted. People knew you were both very similar in personalities, so being flirty was nothing they found strange. "Freedom Pals! Time to meet your untimely demise!" Professor Chaos announced, as you all raised your weapons, flared up your powers and readied to enter battle.

"Let's go!" Toolshed shouted, both sides sprinting towards one another, and you were gunning for Mysterion, a smirk never breaking from your face, your body spinning before kicking your leg towards him, as he caught your foot in mid air, a smirk on his own face.

"Careful, baby. You could've hit me." Mysterion let a deep chuckle from his mouth, lifting you with your foot alone, to throw you over his shoulder onto your feet, and you landed, hands on the ground to stop yourself from falling.

"Oh so that's how we're gonna play it then, okay, have it your way." You spoke, lunging towards Mysterion, landing on his back, a smirk on your face, before whispering into his ear.

"Bet you can't wait to bend me over later, hm?" You knew this would make him weak at the knees. Mysterion was a man of many talents, and not much would budge him, he didn't have a kyptonite like all other hero's, that was until he met you, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't let the comment slide, a low chuckle escaping his parted lips.

Mysterion turned his head to smirk at you, gripping you by the waist from behind and flipping you over his head, as you landed on your feet.

"Don't try and fuck with me, Princess. Just cause you're horny doesn't mean I am. This is war." Kenny spat, and you knew he didn't mean a word of it, as the battle continued, you felt a presence grip you from behind, throwing you backwards onto your back, your body grimacing at the pain that began to spread, before you raised your head to see your attacker, you glanced to your side, seeing Mysterion laying in the same position as yourself, both your eyes meeting each other as you looked towards both groups, who stood united, with Eric and Butters at the front.

"So, what's this we're hearing about you both? That you're co-conspiring against us?" Eric began, a smirk upon his face.

"You both betrayed your cause!" Professor Chaos spat, the anger prominent on his enraged face. Both gangs glared daggers into you both, Kenny the first to stand to his feet, as you quickly followed, moving to his side. You had already spoken with Mysterion about what was to happen if your relationship was discovered, so neither of you were overly startled, it was bound to happen eventually.

"I can confirm that we are a couple. And if that simply isn't allowed, then I guess we're going to have to part ways with both groups." Mysterion spoke, moving to your side, wrapping a protective arm around you, a smirk on his face.

"No I'm afraid it simply isn't allowed, Mysterion. You must do the right thing and give her to us. You will be free from her dark seduction and able to meet your full superhero potential once more, without that succubus draining the life from you!" Eric shouted, and Kenny's grip on your waist tightened. Your blood boiled, humming in response to what was said.

"And are you sure you just don't want to for yourselves, Freedom Pals? I've seen the looks, I've heard the remarks about me you've all made. This is nothing to do with Mysterion and I dating and everything to do with pure green eyed jealously!" You spat, and Mysterion nodded in agreement.

"We're forming our own alliance. We're the best fighters from each group, you all know you don't stand a chance against us. So let us go freely, and no one gets hurt." Mysterion spoke, his hand behind his back, clutching to the fire crackers that hung from his belt, getting ready for you both to make a quick getaway.

And before anyone could speak he lit them, throwing him towards the group of fighters, as both of you sprinted, sliding down the drainpipe attached to the high up building, and making a getaway through the skinny allies, taking the backstreets all the way to Kenny's house.

And once you were in the safety of his bedroom, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist once more, a smirk firmly planted on his face.

"So, since I'm obviously the leader of our new group, I guess I'll have to get you to submit to me, hm?" He hummed, his hand coming up to trace along your jaw, and you leaned into his touch, his arm round your waist reaching to squeeze your ass cheek firmly.

"And who said I'm going to submit to you, Mysterion? You're good, and I'm bad, you gonna fuck the bad out of me then?" You spoke, and he hummed once more, a low chuckle escaping his chapped lips, eyes darkening.

"I'll fuck you till the only thing you can remember is my name, slut. And that's a promise." Kenny growled, pushing you backwards so you fell onto his bed, your arms pinned down above your head by your cocky boyfriend.

"You're obsessed with me~" You grinned, and Kenny knew you were right. He was drawn to everything about you, how pretty your face is, how soft your lips are, how your breasts fit perfectly in his hand,

"How could I not be! I mean, just look at you." Kenny swooned, before his lips met your neck, marking you up right down to your breasts, before he pulled away, a smirk on his face.

"Strip." Was all he said, and you knew to do as you were told. Kenny let go of your arms, pulling you up as you swapped places with him. He sat on the edge of the bed, and you slowly started undressing, as Kenny's eyes scanned your body the entire time, until you were stood completely exposed to him, the coldness of his bedroom giving you goosebumps.

And when you looked to Kenny, you saw him taking his mask off and pulling his hood from his head. That's when you moved, straddling his lap, a cheeky smirk on your own face, as you ground your hips down against him, earning a low groan from your partner, his eyes lidded.

"What a slut. So hungry for me aren't you?" Kenny grinned, his teeth catching his bottom lip, his hand coming up to massage your breast, while his mouth attached to your other, his tongue circling your nipple, earning a gasp from you, spurring him on further.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against you through his trousers, and god how you wanted him so badly, you knew you were bound to leave a wet patch on his clothes.

As if he'd read your mind Kenny pushed you off him, making quick work of the rest of his costume, flinging it to the floor, before cornering you against his bedroom wall, his hand reaching round your neck to pin you against it.

"I've been waiting for this feeling all day." Kenny whispered, lining himself up before pushing himself inside you, his free hand holding your thigh up to wrap your leg round his waist.

And he wasn't waiting for anyone, he was needy, and so were you, and he knew that. His thrusts were at a reasonable pace, his hand loosening its grip round your neck, letting the moans you'd been keeping in out of your now parted, swollen lips.

"Kenny! Fuck, I need more!" You moaned out, and Kenny knew you needed more, you liked it rough, animalistic, but only as your villain form, when you and Kenny had lazy morning sex it was slow and sensual and loving, but this, this was two enemies giving in to their sexual desires, and Kenny knew your body was his to do what he wanted to.

"How about this, slut?" Kenny hissed, his other hand lifting your other leg up, both legs now wrapped around his waist, his hands on your ass, holding you up against the wall, his pace quickening as he continued to fuck into you, your back arching and a symphony of moans leaving your mouth.

"So tight. Fuck." Kenny moaned, his hips snapping back and forth, driving himself into you faster and deeper each time, your head spinning and your moans becoming louder.

And when he felt your walls begin to tighten round him more and more, Kenny knew you were close. "P-Please, Mysterion, please. Can I come?" You just about managed, Kenny's thrusts keeping up their brutal pace, a smirk on his face as he moaned himself, you pussy tightening round him in all the right ways.

"Come for me, slut, scream my name." Kenny groaned, his grip on your ass tightening as he felt your walls tightening round him, your orgasm crashing over you, your back arched against the cold brick wall of his room, and your moans filling the bedroom, as you called out his name, your pussy pulsating round Kenny's throbbing cock.

"K-Kenny!" You practically shouted, and he knew he was going to come there and then, his thrusts becoming sloppy, pushing himself in to the hilt one final time, before spilling his load deep within you, your name spilling from his mouth over and over, calling out for you as you did for him.

Kenny pulled out of you, lowering your legs gently to put you down, both of you panting desperately for breath. And he threw you a towel he had brought into his bedroom earlier, because he knew this would happen, better to be prepared right?

Once you were both cleaned up and had finally caught your breaths, Kenny pulled you into bed beside him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his head between your breasts, a sigh of content leaving his mouth.

You ran your hands through his messy hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, making him gaze up at you fondly.

"I love you, Y/N. How did I ever manage to pull a girl like you?" Kenny cooed, his eyes wide, and you swore you were lost in them, a small smile on your face, pressing your lips to Kenny's for a quick peck.

"I love you too, Kenny. And I'm the one that's lucky here, not only did I pull Kenny McCormick, but I pulled Mysterion too!" You said, making you both laugh.

"You certainly did, baby. You you'll have us both forever."

#kenny mccormick #kenny south park #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick smut #eric cartman #kyle brovlofski #stan marsh #stan south park #south park #kyle south park #south park kenny #kenny sp #kenny x reader #south park x reader #south park smut #south park fandom #south park x y/n

[lorcandidlucienwill]

The only parts of ACOWAR you need to know

Did you hate ACOMAF and you're scared of reading ACOWAR? I gotchu. This is all you need to know from ACOWAR (this will be pretty long):

2 pages later... “You sent the Bogge after them!” Tamlin roared at (Feyre and Lucien). Not long after...

I would've chosen Lucien... Lucien's POV:

Later...

And now the real drama begins...

Rhysand: “I’m not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies.” “No,” Tamlin said with equal ease, “you’re just in the business of fucking them.” “Seems a far less destructive alternative to war.” “And yet here you are, having started it in the first place.” “If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.”

“You don’t get to rewrite the narrative,” (Feyre) breathed. “You don’t get to spin this to your advantage.” *gets ignored* Tamlin: “When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?” Azriel: Be CaReFuL hOw YoU sPeAk To My HiGh LaDy. *gets ignored* Tamlin: “It was not enough to sit at my side, was it? You once asked me if you’d be my High Lady, and when I said no …” A low laugh. “Perhaps I underestimated you. Why serve in my court, when you could rule in his?”

Rhys: Well, played, Tamlin. You're learning. Tamlin: “You asked why I’m here? I might ask the same of you.” He jerked his chin at the High Lord of Winter, at Viviane—the few other members of their retinue who had remained silent. “You mean to tell me that after Under the Mountain, you can stomach working with him?” A finger flung in Rhysand’s direction. Rhys: “I had no involvement in that. None.” Kallias: “You stood beside her throne while the order was given.” Rhys: "I tried to stop it." Kallias: “Tell that to the parents of the two dozen younglings she butchered. That you tried."

Rhysand: “When your people rebelled...She was furious. She wanted you dead, Kallias. I … convinced her that it would serve little purpose.” “Who knew,” Beron mused, “that a cock could be so persuasive?” *Rhysand gives another bullshit sob story* “Stories and words,” Tamlin said, lounging in his chair. “Is there any proof?” Kallias: "Why are you here, Tamlin?" Tamlin: “I am here to help you fight against Hybern." Thesan: “You will forgive us if we are doubtful. And hesitant to share any plans.” “Even when I have information on Hybern’s movements? Why do you think I invited them to the house? Into my lands? I once told you I would fight against tyranny, against that sort of evil. Did you think you were enough to turn me from that? It was so easy for you to call me a monster, despite all I did for you, for your family. Yet you witnessed all that he did Under the Mountain, and still spread your legs for him. Fitting, I suppose. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return?” Mor: “Watch your mouth." *gets ignored*

Helion: “Noble as it sounds, who is to say that information is correct—or that you aren’t Hybern’s agent, trying to mislead us?” Tamlin: “Who is to say that Rhysand and his cronies are not agents of Hybern, all of this a ruse to get you to yield without realizing it?”

Feyre: “You’re insane. Do you hear what you’re saying? Hybern turned my sisters into Fae—after your bitch of a priestess sold them out!” Tamlin: “Perhaps Ianthe’s mind was already in Rhysand’s thrall. And what a tragedy to remain young and beautiful. You’re a good actress—I’m sure the trait runs in the family.” Feyre: “What do you want? An apology? For me to crawl back into your bed and play nice, little wife?” Tamlin: “Why should I want spoiled goods returned to me?” *Rhysand does violent shit and ruins our fun* Mor: “You still certainly like to hear yourself talk, Eris. Good to know some things don’t change over the centuries.” Eris: “Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut.” *Azriel tries to choke Eris to death because he's crazy*

Daddy Lucien to the rescue as usual

Rhysand: “Then don’t take (the antidote). I will. My entire court will, as will my armies.” Tamlin: “At least you have armies to give it to. Though perhaps that was part of the plan. Disable my force while your own swept in. Or was it just to see my people suffer? Surely you knew that when you turned my forces on me, it would leave my people defenseless against Hybern. You primed my court to fall. And it did. Those villages you wanted so badly to help rebuild? They’re nothing more than cinders now. And while you’ve been making antidotes and casting yourselves as saviors, I’ve been piecing together my forces—regaining their trust, their numbers. Trying to gather my people in the East—where Hybern has not yet marched."

Beron: “Did you know that while your mate was warming Amarantha’s bed, most of our people were locked beneath that mountain? Did you know that while he had his head between her legs, most of us were fighting to keep our families from becoming the nightly entertainment? And now Rhysand wants to play hero. Amarantha’s Whore becomes Hybern’s Destroyer. But if it goes badly …Will he get on his knees for Hybern? Or just spread his—” *Feyre attacks Lucien's mother like a bitch then gives a pathetic apology* Beron: “Don’t talk to her, you human filth.” *Rhysand attacks Beron like a bitch* Then Nesta stands up and gets every mfing High Lord to listen without attacking anyone because she's a goddamn queen! And that delightful Neris moment: (Nesta) looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering—impressed, even, by the strange, simmering woman before them.

#pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #tamlin #pro tamlin #beron vanserra #anti inner circle #nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #anti feyre archeron #neris #tarquin deserves better #kallias #anti rhysand #anti cassian #anti azriel #anti mor #anti amren #elucien

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 - Tom Bennett

Oh boy, this one's...a lot lmao. My first fic of the year and probably the only one for awhile. I was so stoked to write it so hopefully anyone who reads this is stoked about it too. This took so long, especially cause I have a super tedious boring class this semester, hence why I'm not writing as much as I used to. But here it is, primed and ready for ya. Enjoy!

Summary: You and Tom work at the same FBI agency, the both of you having a tense rivalry. Sprinkle a little friends-with-benefits relationship on top of that while going on an undercover mission where you must get along to get the job done, what could go wrong?

Warnings: modern!special agent!Tom Bennet, undercover mission (haha the title, get it, okay..), enemies (?) to lovers/rivals to lovers, more like FWB to lovers, Tom's kind of a dick (so is reader) but like to protect himself (and some misogyny, also to protect himself), smoking, tw guns (violence and injury), slight whump, oo boy this one's gotta lot of gratuitous SMUT (MINORS DNI), dubcon-ish, fingering, forced exhibitionism, public sex (kinda)...on a plane, oral (m and f!receiving), ANGST and feels, teasing, jealousy, possessiveness, kinda toxic relationship, confessions, eventual fluff, light dom/sub vibes, orgasm denial and control, slight praise kink and degradation, conveniences will convenience (all I know about undercover missions is what I watched on White Chicks okay, so don't expect some well thought out plans)

word count | 10.8k (oops)🤙🏻

You weren’t planning on signing up for a high risk mission when you went into your agency’s meeting this morning, but something overtook you when you learned Tom would be going on this mission as well.

You never planned to care about him ever since the two of you got involved. You were just coworkers with a little something on the side, nothing serious. In fact, the two of you hated each other ever since you started working with him. You both always took every chance to one up each other, trying to clamber over one another to get higher rankings in your profession, never hesitant to step on each other’s toes to succeed.

The two of you only started hooking up almost a year ago. You were both drunk, celebrating another hard won mission and it just happened. You both were lonely, your profession not always making it easy to trust someone who’s not yourself. It was purely transactional. But then Tom started being more vulnerable with you, making you laugh and happier than you had been before you met him. It made your head spin. You thought about calling it off immediately, but the sex was just so good, his company even more, and you did actually start to care for the man. 

Though, it made your rivalry at work dial the intensity up to eleven, taking out your frustrations on each other when the sun went down. But the look Tom was giving you after you had volunteered to your director, you had a feeling your benefits relationship might end sooner than you’d like.

After the meeting ended, you walked out with the onslaught of other agents that were desperate to beat the five o'clock traffic to get home. But you were yanked back by Tom, him grabbing your arm and forcing you to trail behind your other coworkers. “Take it back.” He seethed.

“What?” You bit back, your brows furrowing and instinctively trying to pull back from him.

“What? You know what. Tell our director you changed your mind.”

You scoffed, ripping your arm out of his bruising grip. “No, fuck you.”

“You did this to annoy me, I get it. Good job, you fucking succeeded, now take it back. This is my mission. I don’t need you getting in my way.”

“I’m just as good of an agent as you, dickhead. If anything, you’d be in my way. Now stop complaining, cause I’m not gonna change my mind. So, are we done now? Or are you going to continue whining like a little pussy?”

Tom only growled in response as he stormed off, throwing a tantrum like he often did when he didn’t get his way. It didn’t deter you. This mission would do wonders for your career, it would surely boost your rank to a higher level. No amount of whining from anyone was going to make you miss that opportunity.

Suffice to say, Tom didn’t show up for his nightly visit at your apartment. It was probably for the best, he’d just spend the entire time trying to make you quit the mission. But you were too determined, and you weren’t one to chicken out. You needed to prove to yourself that you could take on a mission such as this.

When you came into work the next morning for the debriefing, Tom was standing up against his car smoking a cigarette, clearly waiting for you. You only scoffed and walked past him, but he didn’t take too kindly to that. “Have you changed your mind yet?” He asked as he stood in front of you to block your path, blowing smoke in your face because he knew how much that annoyed you.

“Like I said yesterday, Bennett: I’m not changing my fucking mind.” 

This time when you tried to walk past him, he let you. You could hear him angrily stomping out his cigarette with the sole of his shoe before he sped up to walk beside you into the agency building.

You, Tom, and your handler all lined up in front of your director to go over what the mission would entail. It was intense, the most difficult mission you would probably ever have. You were tasked with helping catch a crime boss. The man would be at a hotel on an island resort in the middle of the Caribbean. Your agency’s sources say that he’s planning on making a big deal in order to gain a new ally. Guns, ammunition, drugs, so many things you both would need to be on the lookout for. It was intimidating to be sure, but not enough to scare you away like you knew Tom was hoping for. No, you wouldn’t give in that easily. You were up for the task. You wanted to do anything you could to put away such an evil man.

But clearly, Tom didn’t notice the pure determination on your face as you walked out of the debriefing. “How ‘bout now?”

“Nope. Stop asking. I’ll keep telling you the same thing again and again.”

“This isn’t some low risk mission, L/n. We’re not trying to catch a fuckin’ lowlife predator here. This is a crime boss. An extremely dangerous man that can have us killed with one word if he even suspects what we’re doing there. Don’t you get that?” Tom whisper shouted, trying not to draw attention to himself despite the outburst, poking into your collarbone roughly.

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

“Stupider.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know what I’m getting myself into, Bennett. I wouldn’t have signed up otherwise.” Honestly, it wasn’t the danger of getting killed that made you nervous about this mission, it was the fact that you and Tom would have to pretend to be newlyweds on your honeymoon. A perfect cover for where you two were going. It almost made you laugh.

All your time preparing to travel to this island, Tom would barely talk to you, only glaring at you and giving you one word responses or hums whenever you’d try to talk to him. If he wanted to be petty, fine. You could be petty too, not in front of your boss though, unfortunately. You were sure if your boss knew what you and Tom got up to outside of office hours, he would not be sending you on this mission with him. Although it was well known how you and Tom rivaled with each other throughout the workplace, you had to be somewhat professional, up until you were alone with him of course. You had no idea how you’d be able to share a bedroom with him without resorting to killing each other…or refrain from hate fucking each other. Even the morning plane ride over would be difficult, especially with the way Tom kept looking at you.

“Ya know, it wouldn’t be too late to back out. No one would judge you.” Tom spoke up as you both were waiting to board your flight.

You just kept your mouth shut tightly, just so not in the mood to argue with the man at such an early hour, especially since you weren’t able to have caffeine. You prayed you could just sleep all during the flight without arguing or crying babies. There weren’t babies on the plane, but Tom didn’t seem to notice your purposeful ‘don’t talk to me’ bitch face. Either that, or he just didn’t care.

“I still don’t think you’re ready for this.”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Bennett? No, I didn’t, so shut the fuck up.”

Tom only smirked, smug that he managed to get under your skin once again. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He whispered, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat.

“Oh, the feeling is mutual.” 

The animosity didn’t end there like you hoped it would, instead Tom took it upon himself to try to embarrass you as much as possible. You gave him a stern look as you started to feel his hand reach underneath your thin blanket to trail up your thigh. “Do not.” You scowled, trying to push his hand away but ultimately failing. He was too strong.

You inhaled sharply as he cupped your center roughly, wincing before glaring at him. Your glare faltered as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “You think you can talk to me that way?” He teased gruffly, forcing his hand in your sweatpants and underwear, a surprisingly soft smile pulling at his lips as he felt the slick that was pooling at your entrance. “Whore.”

You gripped onto his forearm tightly as he toyed with your clit, purposely digging your nails into his skin to try to get him to stop, but all he did was wince and pinch you, causing you to gasp. You quickly put your hand over your mouth and subtly looked around to see if anyone noticed, but everyone seemed to be sleeping or occupied with something else. Truthfully, no one was even thinking of glancing in your direction, but you were so paranoid that you’d be caught. “I don’t want to get an indecent exposure fine, Bennett.” You snarled, trying to come off as angry as you were, but Tom’s fingers had already tamed you into a state of submission as they had done so many times before. It wasn’t any less irritating, but god, he was good with his hands.

You flinched in your seat as Tom pushed two of his fingers inside you right off the bat, your eyes briefly rolling to the back of your skull, trying not to moan by taking slow deep breaths. You were suddenly very thankful that you spent so many of your younger years trying to keep as quiet as possible while masturbating so as to not alert any potential family members in the same house of what you got up to in the privacy of your own room, but this felt way more difficult.

You whimpered into your palm as Tom’s dexterous fingers curled against that sensitive spot along the front of your walls, biting into your own skin to keep your whines in your throat, your brows furrowing obviously to anyone that might pay attention. “Fuck.” You cried softly, looking up at Tom with pleading eyes as your chest heaved against your now suffocating t-shirt. “I can’t.”

“You can, darling.”

To make matters worse, the seatbelt sign turned off. 

People around you started to rise up out of their seats to get stuff out of their carry-ons or go to the bathroom, and the flight attendants started to make their rounds to give the passengers their stupid complimentary peanuts. And of course, a flight attendant peaked around your row with a smile right as you felt your climax grow rapidly. You bit the inside of your lip hard, feeling the metallic taste of blood coat your tongue.

“Hello there, we’re handing out some crisps, pretzels, and candy if you’d like any.” The lady asked you politely, hopefully completely unaware of what was going on beneath your blanket. You quickly shook your head, a pained hum escaping your lips as Tom focused his efforts on your clit. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Just a stomachache.” You lied, the wavering timbre in your voice bringing a sympathetic frown to the flight attendant’s face.

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I can bring you a Sierra Mist, if you’d like?”

Jesus Christ, lady, just fucking go away. “No, thank you. Really, I’m fine.” You cleared your throat a bit too loudly to cover up an oncoming moan, your face flushing with heat as a couple people from other rows looked over at you curiously.

“Okay. And how about you?” The lady directed her attention to Tom, who did not even attempt to hide his smug smirk. “Would you like any snacks, sir?”

“No, thanks, miss. I brought my own.” Cheeky bastard.

“Okay, well, we’re almost to our destination. So, make sure all your belongings are overhead before we land.” And with that, the flight attendant finally left you to continue suffering.

“I’m going to kill you.” You hissed, slapping Tom’s shoulder as you allowed your head to lean back against the chair as you felt the first pangs of euphoria wash over you. You grit your teeth and leaned forward to cover your face with your hands, hiding your orgasm face from Tom and the rest of the plane. You took shuddering breaths as you rode out your high, tapping his arm aggressively when pleasure veered into oversensitivity.

You felt your ears pop as the plane lowered closer to the ground. You didn’t even realize the pilot had spoken before you felt the plane bank to the right, unintentionally forcing you to lean closer to Tom, whose face you couldn’t even stand to look at. He pulled his hand away from you, making you look at the mess you made on his fingers. You looked away in fury as he started to suck on his fingers, quietly moaning at the taste of you. You could hear his chuckles as you refused to watch him mock you.

“Hope you had a good flight!” The same flight attendant lady chirped as you and Tom exited the plane.

Fuck you, you so badly wanted to say, but Tom didn’t allow that. As if he could sense your hostility (that he caused) and unwillingness to imitate niceties, he quickly uttered out a polite thanks before guiding you off the plane like you were a child who couldn’t take care of themselves.

Man, this was going to be a long, miserable “vacation.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t impressed with the honeymoon suite you’d be staying in. Though, checking in was a nightmare. You never thought pretending to be all coupley and in love was part of the job description. Alas, you walked into the lobby with Tom’s arm around your shoulder and the two of you wearing the most genuine fake smiles you could muster. One plus was you had already spotted one of the crime boss’ henchmen. 

“Are you sure?” Tom had asked.

Of course you were sure. You had studied every picture of every face the agency presented you with, down to the freckles and moles they may have had. You weren’t going to fuck this up, you’d never live it down; Tom would make sure of it.

You both informed your handler that you made it safely to the resort, already finding evidence that the crime boss was indeed there too. You just had to lay low, look out, and not get caught. This is what you lived for, it was so exhilarating and you wouldn’t let Tom ruin this for you.

“We should head down to the pool, see if we can spot another guy.” You voiced, pulling out your bathing suit from your suitcase, but Tom stopped you by placing a hand on yours. “What, Bennett? We can’t waste time on this.”

“You still haven’t paid me back for what I did for you on the plane.” He spoke with a dark lust in his eyes, his pupils almost completely swallowing his bright blue iris’. 

You rolled yours. “I didn’t ask for that, if you recall.” You said with a scoff and moved to get changed, but he didn’t let you go, instead forcing you to your knees where you found his already hardened cock trying to burst through his tight shorts. You silently cursed to yourself as you already found yourself throbbing at the sight of him looking down at you hungrily.

“Well? My cock ain’t gonna suck itself.”

You resisted the urge to smile, lifting your hand to gently palm his cock through his shorts before tugging them down, your mouth watering as it bobbed up at you. Tom hummed as you licked a stripe up the underside of his dick, even the slightest of approval making you whine as you squeezed your thighs together. 

“Uh, uh.” Tom rebuked, lifting you up from the floor to make you sit at the edge of the king sized bed, forcing your legs apart and standing in between them. “None of that. No pleasure for you. Just be a good little whore and suck me off.” He threaded his fingers into your hair, curling his hand into a fist to tug at your roots, pushing you forward until your lips hit the tip of his cock. On instinct, you wrapped your lips around him and sucked hard, earning a guttural groan from him. “That’s it.” He didn’t hesitate to buck into you, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag just to tease you. He kept doing that until tears were streaming down your face, causing him to smirk. “So pretty.” He whispered, wiping a tear away with his thumb, but continuing to fuck your mouth with little care how you felt.

Meanwhile, you didn’t know if you were crying because his cock kept making you gag or because you had absolutely zero stimulation to your clit. It was throbbing painfully, and Tom still kept your legs apart. Was this still punishment for talking back to him on the plane? He was one of the most pettiest men you had ever known, so you wouldn’t put it past him. But not allowing you to pleasure yourself felt like a new low, even for him.

Your hands gripped onto his thighs, squeezing them whenever you needed a break, him pulling away briefly to let you breathe before slamming back into you again. But he was close, you could tell. The way his moans got louder and breathier, and his hold on you tightened to the point you were almost afraid he’d rip the hairs out of your head. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.” He announced with a groan, stilling in your mouth as his release shot down the back of your throat. 

Tom slowly loosened his hold on you as he tried to catch his breath, petting and soothing the spot on your head where he gripped the hardest. “Okay…” He spoke with a stutter. “Yeah, let me clean up and I’ll meet you at the pool in a few minutes.” And with that, he left you sitting on the bed while he locked himself in the bathroom.

Well, that was a little odd, you thought. But you didn’t think about it any further. You quickly got changed and headed down to the pool, hoping a short dip would rid you of the overwhelming heat you felt in your body from not being able to do anything about your arousing situation. No matter, if Tom wasn’t going to help you out then you’d just get yourself off in the shower that night. You had bigger issues to deal with at the moment.

Scanning over the crowd at the extravagant looking pool, you couldn’t seem to spy any persons out of the ordinary. Just a bunch of families and couples and the occasional old rich woman. Feeling a bit disheartened, you sat down on a poolside chair with a quiet huff, throwing your towel over the backrest and laying out, the sun quickly warming your skin. It felt nice, but it would feel even nicer if you knew you weren’t on the clock.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Tom’s voice jolted you out of your sunbathing intermission, now sporting his own pair of swimming trunks and tank top, any sign of being flustered from your previous tryst was completely gone. Only now, you could tell he was flustered for a different reason.

It probably wasn’t necessary, but you had bought a bit of a slutty bathing suit for this occasion. You figured if on the off chance you had to seduce a criminal, it would be best to do it in an outfit that showed off all your…assets. It definitely seemed to be working on Tom. Maybe it could work on someone else. “My super special undercover swimsuit. What about you, Mr. Palm Trees?” You teased, eyeing his obnoxious colored print on his shorts.

“It’s called looking the part, wife. We’re on our honeymoon, not a dating show.” And with that, Tom lifted his tank up and off himself, the sight of his toned torso making heat flood to the apex of your thighs. He smirked when he caught you staring. “Think you’re drooling a bit, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” You chided, but it only made Tom chuckle. You huffed in defeat, returning to your previous position of subtly checking out the tenants around the pool.

“We should go in.” Tom gestured to the pool, but before you could refuse, “We have to look believable, remember? Who goes to a pool and doesn’t get in the water?”

You couldn’t hide your clenched jaw as you rose from your seat, standing at the edge of the concrete ground and delicately dipping your toes in the chlorine loaded water to check the temperature. It wasn’t too cold, but you’d definitely wanted to slowly ease your way in. Unfortunately, Tom didn’t give you much of a choice, promptly pushing you off the edge. Your body tensed up as the cool water enveloped you, goosebumps rising all over your body as you quickly came up for air, gasping loudly. You wore a deep scowl on your face as Tom’s boisterous laughter polluted the area, able to hear it even when you were submerged. “Arsehole.” You spat, splashing water up at him aggressively.

“So, you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing to me if you had the chance?” He raised a brow, his crooked smile on display, the sight making unwanted flutters swirl in your stomach.

“Touché.” You grumbled. “Still a dick move.” Tom didn’t waste anymore time on land, crouching and leaping into the water, careful not to let the water go above his head. He swam over to you with a mischievous look on his face, and to you, that only meant one thing. “Don’t come anywhere near me.” You warned.

“Oh, come on, Mrs. Bennett. I don’t bite.” He teased, taking your unamused expression as a sign to grab your hips and pull you onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you up by your bottom effortlessly thanks to the water. You had no choice but to let him, not willing to risk your cover. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders reluctantly, trying your best to wear a loving smile on your face. But you soon faltered as Tom leaned in close, his lips right next to your ear. “I know this isn’t what you wanted when signing up for this mission, but you have to at least tolerate it. Behind closed doors when no one is around, you can bitch and whine all you like; but in public, you have to be in love with me.” He pulled away to look into your eyes seriously. “Understand, wife?”

You swallowed your pride and smirked seductively. “I understand, dear husband.” You took advantage of his slight surprise and captured his lips in a searing kiss, the cold feeling of the water not comparing to how heated this kiss felt. Tongue and teeth clashed with each other as you retaliated in the only way you could at that moment, biting his bottom lip hard before pulling away with a sickeningly sweet smile. Tom’s eyes darkened as he gripped your hips tighter, causing you to wince. He looked as though he was going to lean back in for another kiss, but you spotted someone, in the corner of your eye. You hugged Tom, using the position to whisper in his ear just as he’d done to you. “Another henchman.”

“Are you sure?”

“There’s a bulge at the base of his spine, covered by his shirt and jacket.”

“Who wears a jacket at a pool?”

“Exactly. 9 mm is my guess.”

“That’s a lazy guess. Wanna bet? .38.”

“Wow. Guess there’s only one way to find out.” 

“Wait-”

You quickly interrupted him by pushing his head below the water’s surface, ruining his perfectly styled up hair. He came up with a scowl, ready to scold you, but before you could allow him to, you pushed him off and you got out of the pool. Drying yourself off and giving a wink to a now distressed Tom, you made your way to one of the bars that served the hotel guests.

You were a decent actor, but you had no idea if it would be convincing enough to fool the henchman of an intelligent criminal; you had to try, if you wanted to get information early on. The smallest piece of info may help. 

With your margarita in hand, you played oblivious to the figure in your path, knocking into him and hearing the glass shatter on the pavement. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, sir!” You exclaimed, pulling an embarrassed face and getting on your knees to start cleaning up your mess. You hide your smirk as the man quickly stopped you, apologizing for being in your way. You could tell the way his eyes bulged and ran over your body that you made the right decision picking a skimpy bathing suit. Hook, line, and sinker.

“You should watch where you’re going.” The man, who introduced himself as James, said with a smirk, his tone holding no semblance of anger or irritation. “I’m sorry about your drink, maybe you’ll let me buy you another one?” Wow, bold. It made you feel like bile was going to come up your throat any moment, but you plastered on your best fake smile.

“I’d love that. You’re so sweet.” You giggled, “subtly” running your hand down his arm, his eyes piquing with interest.

“I’ve been told that before, yes.” He gently guided you over to the bar, lifting his arm so that it slightly touched your upper back, his jacket lifting just enough for you to be able to see the pistol sticking out of his pants. 

.38. Damn.

Your little acting display got you this far, you supposed you might as well take it up a notch. This man didn’t know how many drinks you’ve already had. Maybe that ruined margarita was your fourth or fifth one of the day. Hell, you were on vacation. So, you decided to be a little drunk as you sipped on your new drink, graciously paid for by a dangerous criminal. “You don’t look like you’re here on vacation, no offense.” You slightly slurred. “I mean, who wears a business suit at a resort?”

James laughed, albeit a bit nervously, but answered you anyway. “I’m not here on vacation unfortunately. This is, ultimately, a bit of a business trip.”

“Meeting with some rich CEOs?”

“Something like that.”

You grinned. “Oh, a mysterious man. I like that.” 

“And why are you here, hm?”

You wore a tired expression, lifting up your left hand to show off the fake wedding ring on your finger. “Honeymoon.”

“You don’t seem to be happy about that.”

You shrugged, taking more sips of your drink, the low levels of alcohol being barely enough to give you that liquid courage you could’ve probably used. “He’s a drag. Boring.”

“Let me guess…he has money.” You gave him a knowing smile.

“Don’t judge. A woman has needs.”

“Oh, I’m sure she does.” He inched closer to you. “But I’m sure he doesn’t satisfy all your needs.” The urge to throw up came back. The idea of being with someone other than Tom made you ill. But you had a job to do, no matter what it takes.

You took every opportunity you could to snoop around that man’s room. He must’ve been one of the dumb ones, you could spot his gun briefcase peeking out from underneath his bed. A rookie hiding spot. You got lucky, really lucky. So lucky that he fell asleep pretty quickly after the fact. Prime snooping time.

Every second that passed, the hammering in your heart grew faster. You rummaged through desk drawers, bags, cabinets, closets; the only thing you found as evidence was a post it note briefly detailing the time and place the meeting with the crime boss would take place. How amazing just a simple little note could have so much power. 

You let yourself smile as you quietly escaped the James’ hotel room, making your way to the elevator and pushing the button to your floor. You could finally take a sigh of relief, the nerves slowly but surely exiting your body; that is, until the elevator doors opened to reveal Tom standing there waiting for you, his body leaned up against the wall opposite of the elevator.

“Had fun?” He snarled with contempt, his lips curled into a malicious sneer, his eyes dark. You rolled your eyes, way too exhausted to deal with his hot and cold nature. You walked out of the lift and tried to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed your upper arm tightly, forcing you to him. “Are you forgetting that we’re supposed to be a couple on their honeymoon?” Tom seethed, loosening his grip on you when he saw the slightly pained look on your face.

“No. I just saw an opportunity to get some intel, which we need if you’ve forgotten.” You snapped back, tugging back to get completely out of his grip. 

“You could’ve done that without fucking the enemy. Jesus, I can smell it on you.” He frowned in disgust.

“It wasn’t even good, if it makes you feel any better. You jealous, Bennett?”

Tom surprised you when he said nothing. No reply, no witty comeback. His frown only deepened as he walked back to your hotel room, not looking back to see if you followed or not. You were almost afraid to, as if you hadn’t just risked your life mere minutes ago. You had nowhere else to go, so you followed, silently watching as he slid the key in and unlocking the door. You both still said nothing as you walked further into the room, taking off your shoes and sitting down on a chair adjacent to the bed.

“I found out where the meeting is going to be, and when.” You spoke up timidly, gaining Tom’s attention, his gaze on you heating up your face.

“You found that out back there?”

“Yep, so you can’t tell me it didn’t pay off.”

He nodded curtly. “Right. Well, I’ll contact our handler and we’ll pass on that information.”

It wasn’t like Tom to be so…compliant. He always had something to say, even when the situation didn’t call for it. You figured he just loved the sound of his own voice for a while. But now he was quiet, stoic, he barely even pitched in when you were talking to the handler about what you found. Was he really that upset that you got info before he did? How petty of him, at least that didn’t change.

“It was a .38, by the way.”

Tom furrowed his brows. “What?”

“That man’s gun. You were right.” He only let out a hum of acknowledgment. “What? You’re not gonna brag like you normally do when you win a bet?”

He shrugged. “We have a long weekend ahead of us. I’m not gonna waste my energy on stupid bets.” He snapped, walking out to the balcony to smoke a cigarette. You huffed in irritation, flopping down against the bed, watching the slow whirl of the ceiling fan.

Tom still was out smoking as you were getting ready for bed, showering and changing into your pajamas with a frown on your face. You quickly got tired of the silent treatment, joining him out on the balcony that seemed to look over the whole resort. “You chain smoke now?” You teased, earning a glare from the man. “Seriously, what’s up your ass, Bennett?” You snickered, stopping with a flinch as he turned to you suddenly.

“Do you realize how stupid that was?” Tom growled lowly, putting out his cigarette angrily and tossing it over the railing.

“You just littered.”

“Jesus Christ!” He grumbled, running his hands over his face in frustration, looking at you in exasperation. “You’re not even listening to me!” He shook you by your shoulders, making you finally start to take him seriously. “You shouldn’t have done that, Y/n.”

You scoffed, pushing him off you. “I got us valuable information. You should be happy, Bennett.”

“Well, sorry, I’m fuckin’ not.”

“Okay, well, there’s nothing I can do about that now. What’s done is done. I’m tired of you being pissed at me all the damn time for doing my job. Just keep being your indifferent self from now on, please.”

Tom growled, pushing you up against the railing of the balcony with a hand on your throat. “You weren’t supposed to be here! But of course you had to be here. Tagging along, like a tick on a fuckin’ dog. God, you’re insufferable.” He ranted, finally letting you go when you didn’t falter, but unaware how hurtful he was being with his words but you only chuckled bitterly.

“Oh, I’m aware. You’ve made that clear ever since we even started this mission. But trust me, I regret it now. If I could, I’d leave this island and never bother you again.” You huffed. “God, do you wanna outrank me so bad that you’d do this mission by yourself?”

Tom huffed. “It’s not that-! Ugh, you shouldn't be here because it’s dangerous! You could’ve died earlier! If that man wasn’t as dumb as you thought he was, he could’ve killed you! Then what would we do? What would happen to this mission, your friends and family, to me?” He snapped, taking you by surprise.

“To you?” You asked timidly, your heart pounding in your chest as Tom’s expression softened at the sight of your unshed tears.

“You think I’m indifferent? That I don’t care about you? I care about you so much it hurts! That’s why I’m livid you came here. If you die on this stupid mission, a part of me will die too. I…it wouldn’t be a life worth living without you in it. I fuckin’ love you, Y/n. Don’t you get that?” He spoke angrily, a deep contrast to the softness of his words.

Your breath caught in your throat, your mouth gaping open but no words seemed to come out, not until Tom looked down dejectedly. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Tom. It was supposed to be just sex, that’s all.” Your voice betrayed you, wavering and on the verge of spilt tears.

Tom sighed shakily, taking out another cigarette and resting his arms on the railing. “I know…I’m sorry. I should’ve called us off as soon as I started catching feelings.”

You bit your lip, hesitantly taking a step closer to him, mirroring his stance and taking his cigarette from his fingers, bringing it to your own lips. You had stopped smoking a long time ago, but you felt you could have just this one, considering the circumstances. You coughed as the smoke filled your lungs, flinching when Tom gently patted your back, causing him to frown. You sighed, looking at him in pity. “Well…what happens now?”

“I know you hate me, so I understand if…if you wanna call us off.” Tom sulked, taking his cigarette back from you.

You shook your head, looking back over the railing, seeing the moon disappear behind the clouds that drifted by. “I don’t hate you, Tom. I never have.”

He chuckled. “Coulda fooled me.”

“I was an idiot and caught feelings for you too.” You confessed sullenly, hating the way your heart beat against your ribcage and the fire that was lit beneath the skin of your cheeks. You absolutely refused to look back at Tom, whose eyes you felt on you intensely. You couldn’t look into his eyes, you knew you’d break with just one glance, so you kept your gaze fixed on your fiddling hands.

You closed your eyes when Tom placed his hands on top of yours, squeezing them gently to encourage you to look at him. “Y/n…” But you couldn’t. You never opened your eyes, even when you felt his body up against yours, his constant warmth enveloping you and making your body relax despite yourself. His arms wrapping around your waist, his head dipping and his chin resting on your shoulder. “You don’t have to be scared, not with me.” You finally opened your eyes when he lifted your chin, your eyes instantly meeting his and you felt yourself melt against him. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop seeing you, but I couldn’t help it. I care about you too much to leave you alone.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You replied softly, causing Tom to look at you with those big blue puppy dog eyes that never failed to make your heart melt, even when they were filled with fury or irritation directed at you, even when you were often the cause.

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop Tom from surging forward to capture your lips in a kiss. This one felt different than all the others. You didn’t kiss often, only spur of the moment and they were always rage and lust filled. But not this one. This one was soft and slow, Tom’s lips moving against yours languidly, making sure to take his time. You felt your knees threatened to buckle as his tongue moved against yours, and brought his hands up to cup your jaw lovingly. You weren’t the biggest fan of fairy tales, but this felt like a fairytale kiss you always imagined one to be.

It didn’t take long for Tom to push you back into the hotel room, holding onto your waist until the back of your legs touched the bed. He gently sat you down at the edge, removing his shirt before helping you remove your clothing. You watched with heavy lidded eyes as he got on his knees, running his large hands up and down your upper thighs until you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. “Tom…” You whispered as he placed feather light kisses down the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

“Shh.” He spoke before continuing down the path of your legs until he reached your ankles, looking up at you with a crooked smile before pulling your underwear off your body, biting his lip when he saw the state he was able to put your pussy in. “Always so ready and willing for me, huh?” He teased, running the tips of his fingers up and down your slit, causing you to whine quietly. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare try to be quiet. We’re not on that plane anymore. I want you to be loud for me.” He pinched your clit to elicit a cry from you, which made him hum in approval.

“Fuck.” You whimpered as he lapped at your clit, one of his hands holding your leg up and the other using a finger to gently tease your entrance. You moaned and tilted your head back as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, pushing two fingers completely inside of you. You were already so embarrassingly close as you rutted against his face, the way his tongue swirled around you and his fingers curling against just the right spot making your head dizzy. A gasp got caught in your throat as Tom suddenly pulled away and slapped your pussy, the sound echoing loudly around the room.

“You don’t get to come, not yet.” He growled before diving back in, making you keen loudly. The pleasure was so intense you had no idea how you could obey his command. You curled your fingers through his hair tightly, trying to ground yourself and also trying so hard not to lose yourself and come accidentally. “Fuck, your cunt is squeezing my fingers so hard. You’re so close, aren’t you, love?”

“I’m right there.” You sobbed, tears streaming down your face as Tom fucked you hard with his fingers, the borderline pornagraphic sounds coming from your cunt making heat rise to your cheeks. But you were too out of it to care. “Please, Tom, please…”

“I bet that man a couple floors down couldn’t make you feel this way, hm? Was he even able to make you come?” He snarled, his fingers curling against you more aggressively.

“No…” You stuttered with a strangled moan. “It took him—fuck! Took him six thrusts to come.” You chuckled tremulously, unable to stop your moans even if you tried.

“You counted?” He grinned.

“It was hard not to.” You cried out as another pang of intense pleasure coursed through you. You were so fucking close it was painful not being allowed to, Tom completely neglecting your clit even though it felt just as good when he was fingering you. It was too much and not enough. You needed him. You needed his cock. You needed to come. “Please…” You whined loudly, obnoxiously so.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” You nodded frantically. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to. Tell me, who’s the only one allowed to fuck you from now on? Who’s the only one who gets to taste this sweet cunt of yours?”

“You, Tom.” You howled, his words only adding to your pleasure to your surprise. “Oh fuck, I’m yours, only yours, Tom. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“Good girl.” Tom growled as he grabbed you by the throat and pulled you into a passionate kiss, using the leverage from his fingers knuckle deep in your cunt and the grip on your neck to force you back towards the headboard on the bed, only pulling away from you to shed off his trousers and underwear. He was so rock hard the tip of his cock had turned into a lovely shade of pink, the sight making you drool as it came closer to your entrance as Tom crawled on top of you, resuming that passionate kiss. He pushed into you with no warning, splitting you open and causing you to gasp against his mouth, allowing him to bite your bottom lip before pulling away.

The pace he set was different too, just like that previous kiss on the balcony. It was slow, purposeful, and calculated; the thrusts were so powerful and deep that it made the top of your head hit the headboard and your tits bounce violently. His cock stretched your walls so perfectly as it always had, his thickness never the easiest to adjust to, but the slight sting of him made the pleasure all the more intense. You were still so close, but now with no stimulation to your clit, it was easier to hold back.

“You’re so beautiful.” Tom murmured, his eyebrows furrowed tightly in concentration. Even with him being balls deep inside of you, his intense gaze made you feel even more naked than you already were. He never used to look at you this way before, but it was a nice change. He didn’t even try to hold himself back as he picked up the pace, holding you in his arms and rocking you with his sped up thrusts.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” You cried, your moans becoming more breathless and high pitched. “I wanna come so bad.”

“Not yet, love. I want us to come together.” Tom lifted himself up on his knees, grabbing onto the fat of your hips roughly to have the purchase to pound into you relentlessly. He hit the ends of you over and over again, your stomach starting to ache deeply and the knot inside you was tightening more and more, one right move threatening to make it snap. “Fuck.” Tom moaned, his cock twitching inside of you, his body tensing as he got nearer to that edge.

“I want you to come inside me, Tom.” You whimpered, placing your hands on top of his, digging your nails into his skin as your grip tightened.

Tom reached down to rub your clit, the action practically making you scream. You moaned his name over and over again along with taking gasping breaths, your pleasure melting your brain and turning you into a babbling mess. “Yeah, yeah, that’s it, love. Come with me. Please, come with me. Come all over my cock.” You didn’t need any more encouragement for that band inside you to pull taunt until it snapped hard, that wave of ecstasy knocking the breath out of you and making your vision hazy. But not hazy enough to see Tom hit that climax along with you, each of you letting out strained moans as you released together, you soaking his cock and his cum painting your velvety walls. He stilled inside you as you rode out your highs, slumping over and placing delicate kisses all over your neck and collarbone. “Fuck…” He breathed out with a chuckle, pulling out and laying beside you.

“Fuck…” You agreed, trying to catch your breath.

Tom started to reach over to pull you against him, but hesitated when you flinched. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t cuddled after sex, but it was mostly after a particularly rough session as a part of aftercare. You rarely cuddled after a gentle night like this one, especially not after confessing feelings for one another. But your skin already thrummed for attention, for his skin to be on yours even after having sex. It was scary, to open yourself up to heartbreak. But looking at Tom’s painfully hopeful gaze, you suddenly realized you wouldn’t mind getting your heart broken by him.

You reached out to him with a shy smile, allowing him to pull you closer and rest your head on his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He didn’t hide the large grin his mouth broke out into; it was way too endearing. But now, you supposed you’d be seeing those more often.

“We need to discuss our strategy for this meeting.” Tom spoke, breaking the comfortable silence.

You chuckled lightly, looking up at him. “Now?”

“At some point.”

“How does tomorrow morning sound?”

Tom smiled, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. “Sounds perfect.”

The next morning, you woke up in Tom’s embrace. You may have cuddled before, but you had never actually slept together like this all throughout the night, on purpose. You were surprised you had woken up first, considering how much you hated early mornings. Tom was always the early bird, but you had the chance to watch him while he was still asleep. You didn’t think it would affect you that much, but goddamn he was adorable when he slept. The permanent curve of his lips made it seem like he was smiling in his sleep and he looked…soft. Very soft. You always envied his perfect smooth skin, but this was ridiculous. No matter how hard you tried in the past, you could never find a single flaw on his body. It irked you, but you couldn’t stop staring at him, even when he started to stir awake.

His lips upturned in a sly smirk, already smug after a second of consciousness. “Like what you see?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to wiggle out of his grip but he was stronger and kept you in place. “We have a busy day, we can’t lie in bed all morning.” You lightly scolded, pride filling you as you felt his grip loosen, allowing you to rise from the bed. “We should stake out the room where the meeting’s gonna take place.” You spoke, cleaning up and getting dressed, while Tom just watched you as he cuddled a pillow. “Like what you see?” You mocked, smiling when he sneered.

After getting ready for the day, you and Tom followed the instructions that were hastily written on the post it note. The hotel was rather large, but you found the room somewhat easily. It was a conference room on the first floor, occupied with a long table with too many chairs to count. It was empty, or at least it seemed to be. Nor you or Tom saw anyone hanging out anywhere near the room. No guards or people preparing for this possible meeting, but you figured it was normal since the meeting wasn’t taking place that particular day.

“Alright,” Tom voiced, “you keep watch while I set up the bugs. Just signal if you see anyone coming, and don’t hesitate to get the fuck out if anything happens.”

You scoffed. “Like I’m gonna leave you to fend for yourself.” Tom’s gaze softened, causing your face to flush with heat. “Cause you definitely wouldn’t survive without me. You don’t have social skills to get yourself out of trouble.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but you could see a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Right.”

You leaned against the wall opposite of the double doors to the conference room, keeping a sharp eye out from anyone who might’ve been walking your way. You hoped Tom could set up the bugs in time and get out before anyone notices. But it seems the luck you had last night in getting the information ran out as the same man you used started to come walking down the hall. You quickly pressed on your small hidden walkie, hearing the buzz in your ear piece. “Henchman, incoming. I’ll distract him.” You whispered into the mic.

“No, get out of there. Do not engage, you hear me?” You ignored Tom’s frantic orders as you plastered a fake smile on your face, greeting James warmly.

“Well, hi there, stranger.” You teased flirtatiously.

James’ eyes flashed with shock and confusion at first, looking around curiously. “Hi? What’re you doing here?” He asked in suspicion, making your heart hammer in your ribcage.

You sighed dramatically. “The husband isn’t too happy with my disappearance last night. Came here to get a break from his constant glares.”

His face flushed red, smiling nervously as if he just remembered what had taken place the night before. “Oh, right. You didn’t tell him, did you?”

You scoffed. “Of course not. I may be a stunner but I’m not dumb either.”

“I never implied you were.”

You giggled. “I did have fun last night though.” You lied, swallowing the bile that threatened to come up your throat.

He nodded. “Me too. Do you…think we can do it again?”

You smiled sadly. “I’m afraid not. Our vacation is almost over and I don’t want my husband getting too suspicious.” Just then, you faintly hear the creaking of a door opening. From behind the henchman, you spotted Tom’s concerned face. But before James in front of you could react to the noise, you pulled him to you. “But…how about a goodbye kiss? For the memories?” You grinned, capturing your lips with his, a surprised noise coming from his mouth. You opened your eyes and gestured for Tom to get out of there. He gave you one last angry reluctant look before obeying you, running off as silently as possible.

James pulled away with a breathless chuckle. “Man, I will miss these pretty lips of yours.” He wiped his thumb over your bottom lip, making you shiver uncomfortably, but he took it as a good thing. “I hope you’ll be thinking of me whenever you’re fucking your boring husband.”

Not likely, creep. “It’ll be hard not to. Well, enjoy the rest of your vacation.” You blew him a kiss before walking away, trying to calm your heart from beating out of your chest. That was the worst. You wanted to wash your mouth out with soap.

Right around the corner, Tom pulled you to him, making you almost let out a yelp of surprise. “Are you alright?” He grabbed your face gently, looking you over with an adorable concern.

You smiled. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Told you I could get out of trouble better than you could.”

Tom’s eyes darkened. “Well, I’m sure it’s easier when you have these.” You gasped as Tom groped your breasts from over your shirt, making you lightly slap him, but he only giggled mischievously.

“So, did you plant all the bugs?”

“Yep, thanks to you. You gave me more time. I owe you one.”

“You sure do. I’ve had my fair share of that douchebag.” You cringed with a groan, the taste of that man’s mouth still sticking to your lips unbearably.

“Me too.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean you too? You didn’t have to sleep with him.”

Tom frowned. “Yes. But I gotta tell ya, I was mad jealous. I felt like I was gonna punch a wall or something. I almost pulled him off you back there to do exactly that: punch the bastard.”

“Then our cover would’ve been blown.”

He shrugged. “Not if I played the husband role, angry that my wife was with another man. Which…isn’t that far off, if I’m being honest.”

You chuckled. “Well, when this mission is over and we’re back home, you have my permission to punch any guy that tries to hit on me.”

Tom stopped in his tracks, just steps away from your shared hotel room. “Wait…” He suddenly blushed bright red. “Does that mean…I’m your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t stop your own blush painting your face, looking down and smiling bashfully. “I mean, yeah. If you want to be?” Tom grinned widely, suddenly picking you up and spinning you around, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your giggles bounced around the echoey hallway as he placed quick pecks all over your face and neck, tickling you until you gently pushed him off. “Happy, are you?” You laughed in amusement.

“You have no idea.” You may have had an idea…

For the rest of the day and every day after leading up to the actual meeting, all you and Tom did was listen in through the planted bugs. It was surprisingly super boring. Anything heard was very few and far between. Nothing of substance was ever said. All the noises that came from the bugs was the shuffling and creaking of people moving around and moving around furniture you assumed.

Your handler informed you and Tom that a team was being sent in, and your job was to make sure to tell that team when the meeting was well under way and to make sure every person of importance was there so they could be arrested. It didn’t sound like a difficult process, but you made sure to prepare for anything.

The day of, you were loading and prepping your weapons while Tom was listening to the live audio feed, his face in deep concentration. He looked cute and you wanted to say so, but you figured it would’ve been inappropriate at a time like this. An uncomfortable tension filled the air that forced your hands to shake, which couldn’t have come at a worse time. You tried taking deep breaths, but it didn’t work. You hid it as best you could. You and Tom already had gotten into an argument about who was going to be the one to direct the rest of the team where the meeting room was. He did not want you down there, at all. But your stubbornness got the better of you and you didn’t let him win. You’d be fine, you were sure of it. You were going to have to head down to the first floor of the hotel soon, staying with the team until Tom radioed that the meeting was almost over.

“Don’t try to be a hero.” Tom told you. “Self preservation before anything else, got it?”

You promised him, if only to ease his nerves. You weren’t going to make any dumb decisions, that wasn’t like you. But you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t get hurt even if you made the smartest choices, the job couldn’t guarantee it, you knew that. But you’d rather get hurt than Tom, that much you were sure of. 

The shake of your hands stopped as you loaded your gun’s magazine, just as Tom turned his head to you and nodded. “Be safe.” He spoke, his brows furrowed in worry.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I will. I’ll see you soon.”

“You better.”

You shook off your nerves and exited the hotel room without another word or glance back at Tom, leaving him and praying you’d see him again, maybe take him on a proper date after all this nonsense was over.

You met up with the team, and they gave you your own bulletproof vest in case things went sideways. You briefed them on where this meeting was and how to get there, pointing to the place on the map of the hotel layout. And after almost an hour of standing around and waiting for shit to hit the fan, your walkie finally sounded off and Tom’s voice spoke over the radio. “They’re starting to trade.”

That was the cue.

You and the team went out, speeding down the halls to the conference room. You could feel your heartbeat in your pulse as the doors were kicked open, threatening yells and weapons being pointed, but the crime boss ordered his henchman’s weapons be pointed back at them. That’s when shit finally hit the fan.

You ducked as bullets went flying across the room, at everyone on either side, the shots echoing loudly and making your eardrums ring. You didn’t let it bother you as you were preoccupied with finding cover, getting your own weapon out and finding a target. You never thought your life would come to this, taking another human being’s life. But it was either you or them. It was at this moment you wondered if you ever should’ve joined this field in the first place. A bullet flying way too close to you snapped you out of those thoughts, forcing you to shoot back. You locked eyes with a familiar face, one you hoped you’d never see again. But of course it was him, James. You watched as the man’s face furrowed in anger, clearly fooled and feeling stupid himself. He should’ve known something was off about you, but too little too late.

The shooting suddenly stopped as the crime boss yelled out in surrender, holding his hands up above the table he was hiding behind, telling his men to stop their own firing. Your team shouted at everyone to put their weapons down and put their hands up, and they all complied fearfully. Your team came out from their cover as the dust seemed to clear, moving to finally apprehend these people. You watched, trying to calm your heartbeat as you felt relief wash over you. You did it, you and Tom. You almost couldn’t believe it.

Just as you realized everything was going to be okay, three shots rang out.

Before you could comprehend what had happened, you were on the floor. Pain surged through your entire body, making it difficult to find the source of the pain. You groaned as a team member ran to you, getting on their knees and quickly putting pressure on what you figured was a bullet wound. You struggled to lift your head to figure out what exactly happened, and you managed to see James on the floor dead, bleeding a puddle of blood beneath him. Karma’s a bitch, you thought. You didn’t think fucking him for information would come back to bite you in the ass, but here you were, bullet not in your ass, but your shoulder. The two other shots thankfully hit your vest, but it still hurt like hell. The bruises you felt instantly forming from those other two shots made you wince, more pressure being added from your comrade making you cry out.

“Shh, don’t move.” The person above you spoke. “Medic!”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You grunted.

From another room, you could hear angry shouts, immediately recognizing the voice as Tom’s. Man, he was going to be pissed at you. But you found it hard to care as you felt blood leaving your body in copious amounts, even with the multiple hands putting pressure on it and miles long amount of gaze being stuffed onto your shoulder. “We need to get her to a hospital now.” The medic spoke urgently. You felt like a loser as your vision started to dim, trying your best to keep yourself awake. But it was out of your control.

Everything after that was a blur. You could hear the sound of sirens, lights flashed above your fluttering eyelids, the smell of cleaning supplies and chemicals making its way into your nostrils, the feeling of a warm hand holding yours. You couldn’t make any sense of it, not until you finally regained full consciousness laying in a hospital bed.

Your eyes squinted as you tried to adjust to the light, even if they were dimmed for your sake. You moaned as you tried to sit up, but you were quickly held in place gently. “No, no, don’t try to move.” The anxious tension in your body alleviated slightly as your eyes landed on Tom’s face, a weak smile coming to your lips. “The doctors said you can’t move yet.”

You inhaled deeply, despite the awful smelling chemicals of the ER. Your mouth was horrifically dry, your lips chapped and tongue like sandpaper in your mouth. “Water.” You choked out, cringing at the hoarseness of your voice. Tom helped you take a few sips of water, which made you feel so much better but also embarrassed that you couldn't even help yourself at that moment. “What happened?”

Tom’s lips upturned in a wry, amused smile. “You were shot.”

You scoffed, chuckling lightly even though it hurt. “I know that. I mean, what happened after I blacked out. I don’t remember, obviously.”

Tom lost his weak smile, grabbing and holding your hand. “Doctor said the bullet hit your brachial plexus. You had to go into surgery to repair it.”

“Well shit, that doesn’t sound good. I’d be more upset if I knew exactly what a brachial plexus is.” You joked, which earned a reluctant chuckle from Tom.

“It’s nerves that allow your arm to move, basically.”

“Oh…” You frowned. “That is bad.”

“...yeah.”

“Well? Did the doctors fix it?”

Tom’s eyes briefly lightened up and he nodded slightly. “They did. They got you to the hospital fast, thankfully. But it looks like you’re gonna be out of commission for several months while you recover, lots of physical therapy and bedrest.”

You groaned. “Ugh, not bedrest.” Tom sighed in exasperation, putting his head in his hands. “Tom?” You tried to reach out for him as you started to hear soft sniffles, coming out muffled from behind his hands, but it sent a spark up pain through your body. “Tom, come on, look at me.”

Tom’s eyes were a bright blue from the tears that were flowing down his face. He looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally. “You lied to me. You told me you were gonna be safe.” He exhaled a shuddering breath.

“I was…until that asshole decided to get revenge on me.” You slightly chuckled, but Tom’s frown only deepened. “I’m sorry. I never wanted you to worry. It’s just…this is part of the job. There was always a chance I’d get hurt, any of us.”

“That’s exactly why I wanted to be down there and not you.”

You shook your head, well, tried to. “No. I’d have rather died than put your life in danger.”

Tom scoffed angrily. “Why? Why do that?”

“Because if you died…a part of me would’ve died too.” Your voice wavered, unwanted tears spilling over and falling down your cheeks. “I love you too, Tom.” You looked away from his intense and unwaveringly loving gaze, too overwhelming to handle. You sniffled. “I’m sorry if that’s selfish of me. But I simply care about your life more than mine…I’ve never felt this way before, about anyone. It’s terrifying.”

You looked back at him as he took your hand with his, running his thumb over your slightly bruised knuckles. “I guess I’m selfish too, because I feel the same way. Which is why I’m fuckin’ pissed at you.” He spoke, but his tone held no semblance of anger and his gaze was just as loving as before.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You can’t be mad when I’m injured.” You teased, causing him to roll his eyes and look down to hide a grin of his own. “Can’t complain when you’re taking care of me either. You have to listen to my every demand.” You giggled.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” He raised a brow, making you blush furiously.

“Uh, I, um, only if you, uh-”

Tom interrupted you with a laugh, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “Of course. Besides, you couldn’t keep me away even if you tried.”

“That’s good to know.” Then you realized, “Hold on, wait. How’d you even get in here? Isn’t visiting for family only?”

Tom smirked as he held up his left hand, the fake wedding ring still on his finger. “Can’t keep a husband away from his wife, can they?”

uh...kinda overdid it, didn't I? oh well haha

#world on fire #world on fire bbc #tom bennett #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x fem!reader #tom bennett x f!reader #tom bennett smut #modern!tom bennett #special agent!tom bennett

[celestie0]

please share your thoughts on vinland saga. what is your favorite character, scene...? what is something you learnt through it?

omgogmogmgmggogm ty for this ask anon also so sorry it took me a while to get around to but i appreciate it i loooove vinland saga sm n i’d love to talk more ab it 😭🫶🏼💕 n if you’ve seen the show too i’d love to know ur answers to those questions as well aaa :””)

my favorite character for suuurrree is thorfinn :”) he is my sweet summer child, the apple of my eye, the kindest of all, my son, my heart, my treasure, my love, i adore him sm there are times where i think of him n i just start tearing up out of nowhere. imma sound so fkn insane when i say this but i really truly believe he exists in my hearrrtttt 😭💕 like he has to, there’s no way these feeligns of adoration i have for him have not manifested on some physical realm i just love him sosososooso much sobs he is my favorite fictional character of all time n i wish i could smooch makoto yukimura very gingerly on the cheek for bringing such a beautifully well written character to life. his determination to become a better person, live true to his ideals, and create safe haven for others is srs so inspirational to me i love him sm

[panels colored by @/hawta_mahmood on insta]

i would literally commit war crimes for him LMFAO (even tho that’s the opposite of what he would want anyone to do for him haha)

as for what i’ve learned n my fave scene(s) i will add a keep reading bc spoilers and also it’s gonna be really fuckin long 💀

what have i learned from vinland saga? dear god, so much. i could talk about this show for hours, HOURS, and i have before!! it is just that dense in philosophy n had my head spinning from all the reflections

of course, there is the infamous line in the show ‘i have no enemies’, which i think can mean a lot of different things to different people, in thorfinn’s case it is the line that allows him to adopt a life of tranquility n pacifism. i think for me, this line taught me to assume the best in people, and once i started doing that i think i learned how peaceful n meaningful life can be. for example, if i interact with a rude person or am fighting with someone i care about, and i am affected emotionally by it, i might think of that lesson from the show and i feel free in knowing that i have no one who i desire to hurt or retaliate against or even harbor negative feelings towards in my head(the saying comes to mind to think or speak negatively about others is to poison yourself) as someone w a lot of fuckin anxiety it’s very liberating to think that way, and i think that’s the biggest lesson i’ve learned from the show (among many, many, many others. i think another big lesson is obviously the subject of forgiveness, both in others and in oneself, but this post will end up being too long if i go into depth of all the things i’ve thought ab while watching vinland saga)

as for my fave scenes, i’ll try to just pick three 😭😭😭

1. end of the prologue. the scene when askleadd dies was so beautifully done. the moment where in his final moments, he urges thorfinn to rethink his life and what he wants from it, and to follow in his father’s footsteps. askeladd was such a cruel, violent, and objectively horrible person n was the cause of thorfinn’s journey of hatred in the first place, and yet in his final moments somehow his words to thorfinn did not feel out of character. that was the moment where i realized wow, this author knows what tf he’s doing and is truly so talented. to have a character’s traits sneak up on you like that, built so subtly throughout the show, so that the payoff feels so real and fitting and not forced, driving the direction of the story in the way we had been hoping for the whole time. fuuuckckf. also, quick mention of the scene where thorifnn finally lets go of his dagger n all the scenes from season one flash by on the metal. fuck. i cry EVERY. TIME.

2. i mean it’s a given, but the scene when thorfinn finally understands his father’s words and admits to a circle of bloodlust vikings that they are not his enemies, and that he has no enemies. what a wonderful full circle moment for his character arc, i get chills just thinking about it

3. this one may be a bit more random lol, but the episode that will forever stick in my memory is gardar’s backstory episode. fuck i could writr a ten page essay about this one twenty minute episode ALONE, but i’ll just pick out the one scene that just kills me. the scene where gardar helplessly watches himself in the past, as he leaves arnheid & hjalti, and there’s nothing he can do to stop himself. fucking hell. if there’s any scene that i think could perfectly show what a feeling of regret is like, that would be the scene, and what fucks me up so much about that scene is how he cannot even manage WORDS. he is a grown man, reduced to intelligible sounds because his pain is so profound and his guilt runs so deep that it is like he becomes all but a helpless child. just kill me, seriously. i had never cried so hard in my LIFE watching anything than in that episode. i sobbed so hard i had hiccups n my sleeves were covered in snot. but the ending, when he got to see his son again in the afterlife n he was the age that he wouldve been if he was still alive :”) my god. yukimura nails anything that has to do with father son dynamics, im sure its because he has a few boys of his own, and his love for his children is so evident in his writing. but also, the fact that he was able to make me feel SO MUCH for a character we hardly knew anything of, and also to use a character that the audience is not very familiar with to tell a story that i think almost everyone on this planet could relate to in some capacity (things we want to change n wish we could go back to do so…) just what a genius genius creative decision like he is just such a wonderful writer i appreciate him so much 😭😭😭

god, all of s2 is honestly my favorite scene LMFAO. the whole entirety of it is a masterclass in story telling. imma just do a quick few more of my fave scene shoutouts tho 😭

thorfinn getting his ear sliced by fox, thorfinn calling einer his brother, thorfinn climbing his way out of valhalla, thorfinn telling arnheid about vinland before she passed away, snake revealing the truth behind ketil’s name, thorfinn reuniting with his mother again. god just all of it. i swear, just all of it.

GAT DAYUM THIS IS LONG but idgaf i’d talk about this show until i draw my last breath lmfaooo thank u anon for this ask im clearly insane 🤣🤣🤣 ur probs like im never sending this bitch an ask ever again LMFAO just joking but srs i appreciate it i had a lot of fun answering :””) i just love this show so much

#i am clearly unwell over this show #the fact i wrote this much n could write literally HEAPS more #this show is a masterpiece #i will never shut up about that #vinland saga #thorfinn #einar #askeladd #anime #manga #anime review #anime recommendation #manga recommendation #manga review #asks #anon

[asmallpinkfan3]

Omg that robin rood reader request got me inspired can i request a death x gender neutral peter pan reader (romantic)?

Y’all are so original with the ideas. Also instead of hook your fighting I’m just gonna say you have an old enemy that is in place for hook.

Death x Peter Pan! Type of reader.

Pronouns: they/them.

Gender neutral reader.

Also e/n=enemy name.

Warnings: light swearing, fighting, character death.

Ok first off how the hell did you manage to bag death himself to be your s/o?

You were childish to no end and he thought it was annoying, at first but he soon kinda accepted it.

You had fought e/n for as long as you could remember although it was more like them desperately trying to kill you and you playing around with them.

“Damnit y/n why can’t you just be mature for once”?! They yelled hair strung out in front of their face.

You grinned “now why would I do that when I can have fun while fighting you”? You asked flying up into the air.

They slashed at you and you just did a swirl in the air spinning. “Hey why don’t we spin around together”? You asked an amused look on your face.

However when doing these stunts it causes death to worry what if one day you don’t dodge in time?

“Muerte I’m fast enough to dodge their attacks I won’t be going away anytime soon”. You stated surprisingly mature.

“Just please take more caution when fighting them mi Vida”. He said as his eyes softened.

Your own doing the same and you flew over to him and wrapped your arms around his chest.

“I will be ok I promise”. You reassured him and his arms wrapped around you while you hugged him.

“If you say so amor”.

The next day e/n had called you to a fight on their ship, you happily offered and flew over as fast as possible.

“This will be the last battle cause this time I will be ending you”! They said their eyes wide as if they were insane.

“We’ll see about that”. You said grinning and placing yourself in a position to just fly around them.

They ran to you while you mearly flipped upwards. You looked back down at the floor looking for them only for your eyebrows to arch.

“Where did they-“ before you could say anything a arm wrapped around your foot pulling you down. “Fuck, y/n I must say what are you gonna do now”? They asked their eyes filled with insanity.

You swiveld around throwing you leg to shake them off you. They were holding on pretty tight and panic bubbled up in your body.

“Back up”! A yell came from behind e/n and you smiled at who it was.

“Muerte”! You yelled aloud obviously happy to see him.

“I will take both of you down”! E/n suddenly yelled pointing their sword at both you and death.

“You first lobo”! They yelled their voice filled with courage.

“Easy”. Death said before disappearing and reappearing right behind them.

You watched as e/n’s eyes widened at the sharp sickle slice through them.

Falling overboard the crocodile below jumped up into the air grabbing their body.

“This is what I was afraid of”. Your boyfriend said walking close to you and inspecting your body for any damage.

“I’m sorry murete they never did something like that before”. You stated cupping his cheek.

#death puss in boots x reader #puss in boots death #puss in boots death x reader #puss in boots x reader #death x reader

[smallestapplin]

An idea: Emmet and Ingo's s/o trying out high quality(tm) sexy costume(feel free to pick which brother gets what costume: maid, bunny girl, sexy kitten, ect…) for a future surprise, but their boyfriend ends up leaving work earlier than planned and walks in on their respective s/o trying out some poses while playful/awkwardly calling out their names? :3c

Second hand embarrassment, my enemy.

🔞18+🔞

-

-

-

🔲Ingo🔲

- Ingo was hoping to surprise you. He never gets off work early, usually he clocks out right on time or later, but here he is! Walking into your shared house a few hours early.

- He doesn’t hear you anywhere is his first clue. He didn’t even yell out that he’s home cause it was so quiet. He figured maybe you went to the store and would be back shortly, after all he didn’t text you he’d be home.

- He takes off his shoes and goes to the bedroom to change into some lounge clothes.

- He opens the door to the air being knocked out of him.

- You’re standing in front of the floor length mirror giggling to yourself, dressed in a skimpy cow themed lingerie set.

- White thigh highs with that cute pink cow print, only being held up by straps, a similar color themed thong and bikini top, if he could even call it that.

- It just barely covered your nipples.

- And those realistic cute cow ears and horns.

- Oh he was a goner the second he saw you like this.

- He was hard within seconds.

- His breathing quirks up.

- You’re stunning.

- And you haven’t even noticed him yet, you just stood there giggling to yourself while taking in the outfit, or lack there of.

- Ingo doesn’t know what to do, his body in a battle, does he leave and pretend he never saw until you show him yourself? Or does he announce himself? Oh how he wants to just-

- “Ah! I-I didn’t know you’d be home so early!” Your panicked, you don’t know if you should cover yourself or not.

- “Y…yeah I thought I’d surprise you today, it seems I’m the one who got surprised.”

- Your face blooms in color as his pale eyes look you over.

- “I thought I’d buy this for uh one of our sessions, i was just trying it on to see if it fit or looked good on me.” You’re trying to make it sound like an everyday outfit.

- With that he moves closer “it look perfect on you.”

Everything moved so quickly, you don’t recall how you ended up flat on your back on the bed, legs spread, folded into a mating press.

With Ingo mercilessly pounding into you.

Your cow ears lay crookedly on your head as your cry out.

“Such a good little breeder, making such a mess f’me.” Ingo moans, you feel too good, he’s going to cum again.

You can do nothing but take it, your brain has been fucked out of you three orgasms ago.

“P-please! Fuuuck you’re so deep!”

Ingo plans to ruin this pretty little outfit of yours.

🔳Emmet🔳

- He occasionally gets off work early, but he always texts you when he does cause he just gets so excited! He can’t wait to see you. Even if you both live together.

- But this time he held off! Emmet wants to see the look of surprise on your face and by the stars he’s going to get it!

- But it seems you’ve won yet again.

- Emmet barreled through the door and pouted that you weren’t in sight, not in the living room, not in the kitchen, and not in the dining room.

- He figures you must be in bed, you do take naps after all.

- But poking his head into your shared bedroom and is instantly interested.

- Such a cute more ‘innocent’ spin on a bunny outfit, a strapless dress, tight around your chest, but flows out like an aline, it absolutely doesn’t cover your butt. A cute set of bunny ears sat on your head and you had a cute fluffy tail attached to very small, almost thong like underwear.

- Emmet could see everything.

- And he wasn’t complaining.

- He leans against the door frame licking his lips at the sight of you.

- Oh you’re perfect.

- He can’t wait for you to notice him.

- Watching you make final adjustments he makes himself known.

- “Oh darling!”

- He laughs at your half shriek.

- “My what a nice surprise to come home to! You look verrry nice.”

- “I-I mean was meant to be a surprise for you, but…guess you surprised me instead?” You laugh a little awkwardly, oh man this is bad.

Emmet coos at how cute you look.

“You’re taking my cock soo well darling!”

You can’t respond. Your mind is foggy with lust. He won’t let up, Emmet just keep roughly thrusting into you.

Taking you from behind, your arms gave out long ago, your cheek pressed against the pillow.

Emmet keeps holding you up by your false bunny tail.

“Mmm Seem to like me fucking your dumb bunny cunt, aahh! Fuck it’s like you’re trying to milk me dry!”

Your muddled brain can barely register his drool dropping onto your back before he bites into your shoulder.

You can only cry out with tears rolling down your face with each brutal thrust he give.

#🔞🔞🔞 #pokemon #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #pokémon #pokemon fanfic #pokemon ingo #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon smut #pokemon x reader smut #smut

[sprout-fics]

That drabble make me think that rookie got hurt and taking cover. Enemy coming charging at them before they get you, you see König just grab the enemy lifted him and snap the back over his leg.

You were amaze by the brute strength and afraid. König turn to look at you he all bloody but it not his blood and walks towards you.

This 'twas a vision, anon

You're hurt.

It's just a graze, thank god. Skimming across your upper thigh as you dove for cover, the burn bright, vicious as you yell in pain. There's a brief pop of gunfire as you drag yourself further into your hiding spot, crouching in the shade of the building's exterior.

"I'm hit." You rasp into the comms, and the hand on your leg comes away red. "Enemy sniper on building B."

"Is it him?" A voice crackles through on your radio. Gaz.

"No." Comes a response, quieter, angry. Ghost. "It's not."

It takes a moment for you to settle your nerves, heart beating too fast to keep track of the world around you. There's a curse curling across your tongue, the result of being distracted, of being caught unaware while your thoughts were stalked by him.

König. He's here.

You don't know how but you do. It isn't the first time it's happened. it seems that with every mission you and the team set out on in this region the chances of seeing him only increase, spiking like the pressure inside your veins. You catch glimpses of him, the executioner hood blending with the shadows, the massive frame of him ducking out of sight a moment too late.

Since your abduction and consequent escape, release, the team has been ever vigilant regarding your kidnapper. They see him just as you do, catch a mere flash of him before he lobs a grenade, a flashbang, sends gunfire raining down on your allies.

But never you.

Which is why the sniper who shot you isn't him. You know that, and Ghost seems to know it too, his eyes watchful, ever observant.

"Then where the fuck is he?" Soap hisses, and you hear the echo of gunfire on his side, a reverberation of the world around you. You wish you knew the answer to his question, could take a moment to find out, but you're preoccupied with the shooter forward of your position, the one preventing you from making your way towards your target.

You hear the shattered glass behind you crackle a moment too late.

"Contact-!" You gasp into the radio, spinning to lift your weapon, trying to wobble to a stand despite your injury.

The man approaching you has his blade drawn, goggles fitted and obscuring his eyes. The alleyway between the buildings casts a half-shadow across his form, slanted so the sun glints off the combat knife in his grip.

Yet your eyes focus not on him, but the massive figure that rises behind him.

"Rookie? Rookie, come in!"

Executioner's hood. Gleaming, red rimmed eyes. His own blade twice the size.

The knife in König's grip slices into your attacker's flesh like it's butter, digging in between the fourth and fifth rib just as a massive, black gloved hand reaches out to muffle the man's scream. You think that's it but the knife retreats, drawing a bright stream of red before it descends again, twice, three times. The fourth is right into your attacker's neck, and when König rips the blade away the man slumps. Dead.

"Ghost, do you have eyes on Rookie?!"

You can't respond, and even though your weapon is in your grip your hands shake, tremble at the raw, bloody display of brute strength you just witnessed. Konig lets the man crumple to the ground, lifeless, and briefly his eyes trace the body.

Then they flash to you.

"K-König." You manage, and your voice is choked in your throat, constricted like the harsh grip of an enemy as you desperately try and fumble for your radio, switch on to relay your position-

A hand catches yours.

"Careful, Maus." He warns, and you don't know how he managed to close the distance between you so fast.

Your eyes find his against your will, and you hate how your hand shakes in his grip, his fist easily encircling your wrist. His stare gleams down at you, bright, focused with an intent that sends something forbidden stirring inside you.

"Let's talk in private." He tells you, and your blood is rushing in your ears, thrumming like rapids that threaten to drag you under, choke your lungs. Like a wardrum, you feel your pulse beat against his clenched fingertips.

"Where is she? Why isn't she answering?!"

"They let you get hurt." König observes, and there's a whine to his voice, strangely petulant as his gaze takes in the soaked fabric across your thigh.

The pain comes racing back, washing over you like the sudden conflagration of a wildfire, and all at once you struggle, raise your voice to wherever your teammates hide.

"It's okay, Maus." König hushes as his hand settles over your mouth, hovering in a gentle warning. Your eyes meet his. They burn like stars, an inexhaustible energy that sears you to the touch.

"I'll take better care of you." He murmurs, and the flames inside you burn brighter.

"Rookie?! Rookie answer me!"

#konig #König #konig x reader #cod konig #könig x you #anyways yeah this happened #fic: little mouse #asks #requests #my writing

[geliditramonti]

Fallin'

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x f!Reader

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are on a mission and you’re at a dead end.

Warnings: swearing, shooting, falling

[Part 2]

*We're fucked. We're totally fucked.*

You can't think of anything else while hiding behind a small cement wall containing an outlet noozle, squatting on the ground of this building roof, while bullets fly over your heads hoping to caught you and blow your brains out.

"There's fucking loads of them!"

Shit, this was never in the cards. When Champagne entrusted you with this mission you thought you could do it without much trouble...and you would've gotten it if only Tequila hadn't decided to get high like a kid at his first party yesterday night, being completely knocked out this morning and leaving you and Whiskey alone to handle a plan set for three. Stupid prick. The goal of this mission was to take a dose of antidote in a test tube and go back to the base without being seen. It was meant to be a quick, clean work...but everything has gone to shit when the alarm went off and you found ourselves forced to run on this fucking roof, ending up surrounded and with no escape.

"We're not gonna make it" you say aloud to Whiskey, squatting beside you "they're too many!"

Your breath is racing, looking at his face and almost feeling his brain working really fast to come up with something. He just stays in silence for a bit before speaks, reloading his guns as fast as he can.

"Ok, listen" he says in a short breath "I lost my whip and only have a few slugs left. You have to cover me and you have to do it without missin' a shot. Got it?"

"I told you hiding on the roof was a stupid...wait, what?"

"You got that?"

"No, what...no! How-"

"Cover me!"

It's a split second, you don't even have time to reply while see Whiskey take a breath and stand up in a lightning movement, running to a group of soldiers with open arms and responding to fire with his two revolvers, jumping headlong into the fire conflict.

"Shit..."

You have no choice but to have his back. His brilliant plan was just to jump into the fray like that? Jesus. You aim as precisely and quickly as you can, shooting at those bastards who haven't given you a breath in over an hour. You shoot and keep shooting, watching Whiskey confront a group of at least seven soldiers in camouflage, picking them off one by one with some fast and precise movements. His motions are so fast that with your eyes you almost struggle to see them, seeing only the enemies fall ruinously one by one like little toy soldiers in the hands of a sadistic child playing war. You try to keep your concentration even if it's not easy while something touches your head so closely that you can feel the air shift on your ear, making you freeze for a sec.

It's a matter of seconds, of quick but very long moments, before you realize that Whiskey has run out of bullets...and so have you.

"Fuck!"

Hiding again behind the wall your hands convulsively move on your pockets looking for more bullets, you thought you had at least one box left...

"Fuck...fuck!"

The fear of seeing Whiskey die right in front of your eyes is making you more than shake and is clouding your mind, not allowing you to think clearly anymore. You have to figure something out. Even though you're a kick-ass at hand-to-hand combat in this context it'd be nothing but a suicide mission: others are on the way. You look at him spinning his lasso in the air like a cloud full of lightning, waiting for the first move of who'll have the guts to face him...and you can see a little smirk on his face from afar.

There he is, that's your cowboy.

When you joined the Statesman Agency a few months ago you did it convinced that you'd never break the rules that you had set to yourself. The first one: accomplishing a mission is the most important thing. It doesn't matter what it involved, what you should have lost, what you should have given up. If carrying the mission entrusted to you requires the loss of your life, fine. The second one: no distraction. If something had made you waver, distracted you in any way from your goal, made you lose your cool...you'd have eliminated it immediately no matter what. And the last but not least one: never, never get emotionally involved with a colleague.

And guess what: it's completely without pride that to this day you can say you've broken all of them.

You certainly can't deny it to yourself anymore: you fell in love with Agent Whiskey a long time ago now. You never had the guts to confess anything, limiting to observe him in silence from afar, admiring his experience and his incredible skills in combat...you've never seen anyone fight like him before. Fast, lethal, incredibly precise. His whip doesn't miss a shot and he wields his guns with great mastery. And then his way of behaving, of talking, of moving...so cocky and so fascinating. You always tried not to make him understand anything, shifting your gaze as soon as his curious eyes rose upon you realizing he's been watched.

"Agent Brandy, are you still with us?"

Champagne's voice brought you back from your thoughts in a second, making you feel so stupid as your cheeks turned red like a tomato straight from the oven.

"Uhm, yes..."

"Did you listen to what I just said?"

You nodded silently lowering your head, the shame was warming your skin while you felt the looks of the other agents around the table all on you. Whiskey, sitting in front of you, smiled softly as he looked down.

You never said anything, keeping it all inside and never leaking any kind of feeling. And damn, God knows how you fucking suffered every time he had to sleep with a target to plant some bugs or to extract important information for the purpose of a mission...but what were you supposed to do? Whiskey is your partner. How could you continue to work with him or even look him in the eye after his rejection?

"Take your time, Brandy!"

It's Whiskey's voice. Once again your thoughtlessness is interrupted by a voice that screams your name, bringing you back to the real world and pulling you out of yout thoughts pit. Here you are again, catapulted into this battle. In a second you take back the reins of your mind as your eyes fall on a gun that fell to the ground, still held by the severed arm of the man who was pointing it at Whiskey. His electric lasso cut him clean and cauterized. It's close, you can do it.

You can do it.

With a lightning movement you try to reach it, snapping forward without losing sight of it, but something squeezes your throat and drags you away, just giving you enough time to see Whiskey lose his lasso as you cling with both hands to the arm that's squeezing you up a few inches from the ground. You're having a hard time breathing. Without thinking too much and with a precise blow you stick the knife that's hide in one of your sleeve inside his thigh and free yourself from his grip, lowering and hitting him in the stomach as he grabs you by the hair, throwing you to the ground. You get up but lose your sight for a bit at the exact moment his fist hits your face, so hard that you almost blacked out. You can taste your own blood in your mouth. Your head starts spinning as you realize you're on the edge of the roof, there's the void behind.

Your eyes open wide.

"You're on the wrong side, bitch."

His evil little smile, those blue icy eyes, his hands covered with black leather gloves lean on you in a very fast movement that you see in slow motion. In a second you feel your body lose balance, falling backwards in a moment that seems eternal. You close your eyes, accepting your destiny and the fact that it had to be this way. That it's over. That you'll never see Jack again. That you were a disappointment to the Statesman, to Champagne, to your parents and to yourself...but in a split second something holds your wrist, making your body dangle in the void and bumping against the wall.

When you look up and see Whiskey, your heart leaps.

"Don't let me fall" you beg, looking desperately in his dark and frightened eyes "...please, don't drop me."

Despite his efforts he can't lift you up, his arm shakes and you feel his grip tightening more and more while 'cause of the sweat your hand starts to slip. His shoulder is bleeding, he has no strength left.

"Jack"

You look down and then up again, to his face that you're sure is the last time you see. Your heart's beating so hard you're afraid it's gonna jump out of your chest.

"Fuck, I...I can't..."

"Jack, I - "

It's a moment. A second. Your hand slips, no more friction, no more grip. Gravity drags you down with it and your body falls into the void. His eyes screams at you full of terror and desperation. You see them, you see them well as you fall back as they pierce your soul from side to side. You see everything in slow motion, Whiskey leans out even more in an attempt to grab you again, his open hand, his hat flying away from his head. His face, his fear and his despair are the last things you see, maybe he's screaming your name but you can't hear him anymore...and then...all turns black.

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