A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for being patient with me! I finally showed my husband this book. Let's just say that my sex life is going to get a lot more interesting. 😆 Anywho...

By popular request--y'all asked for some daddy kink (well.. it's got some kink to it). I hear ya. Here it is! It's a long one. Time is around the uprising event. If you enjoy this series, I'm asking for you to please vote (star button) as a way of supporting me. And just vote if you guys like the hot picture up top hahahaha- *shot* (credit to Krabat, she's amazing)

I appreciate your feedback and thoughts always! Thank you, guys! If you're wondering what I'm writing next, read through to the end for future chapters' line-up.

Quick Revision:
Alright, sorry about the length of this story - 3.8k words roughly. And sorry about typos in advance! I have been up for 28 hours. 😣

--

The moment the sun set below the horizon, the automated fluorescent lighting came on and illuminated Jack Morrison's office. The sudden brightness startled you, and that was when you realized you'd waited long enough.

"Alright, Strike Commander," You wrung your hands impatiently, then stood up from the chair when you decided that he wasn't even going to show up to his own meeting. "Commander Jerkface."

"I heard that," The person you were deprecating walked into his office, his expression humorless. He stamped a button near the door to close it then made for his desk.

"I'm not taking it back," You griped, crossing your arms over your chest. "Forty-five minutes you kept me waiting so this better be good."

Jack Morrison's blue eyes were stern when he stopped in his tracks to face you, which meant you might actually be in trouble. "Tell me about King's Row."

Your legs instantly turned to stone upon his demand, and a sinking feeling grew in the pit of your belly. "What about King's Row?" You asked, feigning ignorance as you kept your expression neutral.

"Sit down," He commanded as he fought a scowl. "I know it was you who got McCree in and out of there."

"What?" You argued, trying to schmooze your way out of trouble, "Overwatch is not allowed to set foot in the U.K. C'mon, Commander. The U.N. and Director Petras had made it very clear--"

He closed the distance in a matter of seconds, his abrupt approach interrupting you. Jack stood in front of you, towering over you almost menacingly with a fierce and knowing gaze. "Show me some respect and stop playing dumb. I'll say it again, soldier: Tell me about King's Row."

Though part of you wanted to back down, your stubborn will kept you upright and standing toe-to-toe with the Strike Commander. "I don't answer to you anymore."

He growled at your insolence, his words quick and impassioned. "As a matter of fact, you still do answer to me. Your transfer into Blackwatch is not effective until tomorrow."

You pursed your lips, failing to come up with something that could help your case. You had acted out of line—deliberately.

What were you supposed to have done? Let innocent people die to terrorist omnics? It had been incredibly frustrating to stand by and allow the Null Sector group to wreak havoc in London without contest.

"You were under my authority when you chose to act without sanction. So, it's on me to discipline you."

"You think what I did was selfish?" You searched his eyes, trying to look past his displeasure for how he truly felt about this crisis in England.

"Are you admitting your disorderly conduct? You should know that not only did you endanger your life, you also endangered a fellow agent's. On top of that, you could've added fuel to the fire against Overwatch."

You could feel his breath on your cheeks, smell the sandalwood scent coming off his skin, and even sense the heat radiating off his body in this proximity.

"Worst of all, you could've been killed!"

Wait, maybe that was your own body getting heated up because of how fatally attracted you were to Jack Morrison. The warmth crept up from your center, into your chest, up your neck, and eventually settled on your face.

Don't look at me like that. He grew quiet, and he stepped back, distancing himself from you.

"I think you're just upset because you can't stand to have me in the field." You stated brazenly, not thinking anything of his withdrawal. "Do you know why I asked to be transferred into Blackwatch?"

He didn't reply. There was a change in his countenance. His jaw grew slack and his eyes softened. You noticed that his usual brooding expression wasn't there.

"It's because I'm tired of the administrative bullshit you're having me do. You know I'm a damn great field operative," You continued, despite knowing you were walking on thin ice. "I'm your best intel specialist, and you're assigning me to stupid desk jobs."

His lack of reply annoyed you. It made you want to provoke him, get a reaction out of him—something! So you finally admitted to it all—to see if it would break that cool exterior he was displaying. You wanted to see fury for the professional torment he'd put you through. That could probably make you feel better.

"Yeah, it was my idea to get an agent in King's Row. I ran it by Reyes and he didn't have any qualms, in fact—he told me to take McCree in. Blackwatch was under suspension, but my flight credentials were still green. So I went. You're going to discipline me? Go ahead. I don't give a shit."

"Take them off." To your thrill, his expression hardened, and you knew your provocation did the trick. But there was an intimidating quality to his voice, in spite of his sudden and odd request—one that wiped the smugness off your face.

"Take what off?"

"Your pants."

"N-now's not the fucking time--" You protested, not expecting to hear such a demand from him.

"I'll do it for you, then," He approached, and it struck some fear in you.

What you didn't know was that he'd been holding back months of sexual tension and frustration. It had been building up since your one night stand together several months back. Because both of you had mutually considered it a judgment lapse, it was never discussed again.

You'd figured that he just wasn't into you. And after having invested yourself emotionally, you'd felt like working under him wasn't such a good idea. That was the real reason you wanted out from under him.

You thought you could somehow escape it all if you were gone on missions. But you'd been kept inside for God-knows how long. It had been torture to see him every day, passing him in hallways, bringing stupid reports to him.

And now, he was asking you to undress-- you grew flustered when he firmly, confidently grabbed hold of your hips.

"Is this a joke?" You glared at him, only to find yourself turned around so that you faced the chair. Jack was strong, but it wasn't like you were resisting him.

"Hardly," He replied with a firm shove against your upper back. It forced you to hold onto the back of the chair, so you wouldn't lose your footing. At the same time, he tugged at the band of your trousers, and down they went—underwear and all—exposing your rear to him. His movements were fluid, and it all was happening so quick you had little time to process what was unfolding.

"Jack, what are you doing? What is this--" You gasped when you felt the warmth of his skin. His palm was pressed firmly where the back of your thigh met your rump.

"This is me punishing you. It's for your own good." There was no groping, no squeezing—only light pressure. The hairs at the back of your neck pricked up and you were hesitant to look back at him.

As you began to crane your neck, his touch disappeared. And the moment your eyes met his, he struck a blow.

Slap!

A loud clap of skin against skin filled the air. And searing pain bloomed where his palm landed. He hit you so forcefully, your entire body lurched frontward. If he hadn't kept a tight grip on your top, you had no doubt you'd be on the floor right now.

When you recovered just enough from the shock, he struck the same spot again with the same open palm.

Slap!

This time, it made you cry out because the pain was like fire, and it was unbearable. You inhaled sharply, hissing through clenched teeth. Your eyes widened and white flecks appeared in your vision. Clutching the chair like mad, you tightened your grip until your knuckles turned white.

Slap!

"Oh fuck!" You screamed, not caring if anyone could hear you. Nothing occupied your thoughts right now. Nothing but the painful sensation you were forced to endure.

Slap!

You bit your lip to stifle a sob and hung your head, letting it fall between your hunched shoulders. The relentless assault on the same exact patch of skin was killing you. Hit me somewhere else, please!

"Are you going to disobey me again?" He finally broke his silence. You were too stunned to answer him promptly. And he regarded your delay as an insult and struck again. "Answer me!"

Slap!

"N-no!" Your face was hot, and you couldn't stop the tears from brimming over.

"'No' what?" His voice sounded husky, like he was striving to control a lot more than his anger.

Slap!

"No, Commander!" You conceded, a moan escaping your lips. The heat in your rear was morphing into an odd tingling that radiated to your core, through your entire body. It was the kind of odd that made your toes curl, your whole body tremble.

Slap!

"Stop! Please!" You gritted your teeth, fighting to withstand the wealth of conflicting emotions and sensations he was eliciting in you. "What do you want from me?" You turned your head and looked into his eyes with your own tear-filled ones.

His expression was unreadable, but he helped you stand upright as his grip on your shirt loosened. "I want you to be safe," His words confused you. "I don't want you dying out there. And if I have to use force to drill that into your head, then so be it. Dismissed."

Wiping your escaped tears with the back of your hand, you turned and glared at him—all the while, you were fighting to recover from the shamefulness of being spanked. Shamefulness from having discovered a hint of enjoyment in what you'd just been through.

Adjusting your lower garments back in place, you ignored the stinging in your derrière and walked out of his office quietly.

--

Even in the safety of your own quarters, you still couldn't wind yourself down from the encounter earlier.

Your chest felt tight. Your legs trembled when you stood still. Your butt was still smarting from your so-called punishment.

You wiped the condensation off of the mirror's surface, wincing when you saw the angry, red handprint in the reflection.

What was the purpose of all that? To beat sense into you? It didn't work.

And against your better judgment, it made you crave more of his touch. Jack Morrison's touch.

You sighed, staving off the feeling, and wrapped a towel tightly around your torso.

The memory of each slap, the way his palm felt, against your rump was burned in your mind. You felt the sting on your ass every time you took a step.

Exasperated, you exited the bathroom and considered sleeping naked tonight because anything touching the raw part of your behind was incredibly uncomfortable.

"Come here," A familiar gruff voice startled you from your preoccupation.

You'd nearly jumped out of your skin. "It's called knocking."

"I did," Jack was sitting on the edge of your bed—his armor stripped, overcoat gone. Down to his combat trousers and muscle shirt, he looked a lot less formal, a lot less intimidating. "You didn't answer so I showed myself in."

"What do you want?" You stood still, rooted to the bathroom doorway.

He fiddled with something in his hand, then held up a small bottle briefly. "Some aloe. Come here." He commanded again, his eyes boring into yours.

"Is that an order?" You looked into his eyes warily, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Even though he'd seen you naked before.

"Yes," He said after a momentary pause. The regret was evident on his face as he reasserted, "Come here and lay down on your stomach. You can keep your towel on." He motioned to the mattress.

As you parted your lips to protest, you thought better and did as he asked. You walked to the other side of the bed, the side opposite to Jack, and laid exactly how he asked you to. You didn't care that the water still fell in droplets from your hair or from your skin. Neither did Jack.

Your senses were heightening more and more as he drew near. Your heart ran into a galloping speed. And you felt hot again, the way you had earlier. Before and after he'd spanked you.

You shuddered, and a stifled grunt escaped your lips when you felt something cold on the smarting area of your bottom. It was the aloe vera gel or cream. Whatever it was he brought in that container, he continued to lather it, working it into your injured flesh with delicate pressure.

"I shouldn't have laid a hand on you." You listened as he began to confess, keeping your head on your folded arms and your eyes staring ahead at your headboard. "I'm sorry, [Y/N]. I'll never hurt you like that again."

A period of silence followed for a long time after he was done treating the angry welted skin. "I liked it." You found yourself admitting out loud.

The mattress springs shifted and you realized he was standing up. You moved onto your side and looked up to see his eyes darkening with desire. Then, you reiterated, "I liked it."

Jack's hands flexed at his sides, and you saw the beginnings of a blush creep up his rugged face. His mouth fell slightly agape and he looked at you in disbelief.

"I... like you." Something urged you to keep talking. And everything you'd been bottling up for months just... spilled. "That's the real reason why I asked for the transfer. I like you. And I couldn't be around you without remembering that night. I couldn't stand the fact that we never held a conversation outside of our duties. I couldn't bear you not looking at me. You hadn't looked at me in the eyes before all this. Not once, Jack."

"That's not true," He denied, finally ending his speechlessness. He saw your eyebrow rising in disbelief. "Fine, I like you, too. I like you a lot. Which is why I couldn't look at you or hold a normal conversation without breaching my status as your commander, as your boss."

"It won't be an issue starting tomorrow, right?"

He went quiet again.

You bit your lip, then grabbed his hand and tugged as hard as you could.

Jack staggered forward onto the bed, and soon, his body molded perfectly against yours. His lips crashed onto yours heatedly. His tongue pushed against your lips, begging for entrance. His hands sought every exposed surface of your skin as he relished the feeling of you beneath him.

It was evident in the kiss, how desperate you were for one another.

He ended your passionate lip-locking, so that he could taste more of you, other parts of you. His lips rained kisses on your chin, along your jawline, and down your neck.

All you could think about was being immersed in his touch so you might douse this overwhelming desire that suddenly broke free from its prolonged suppression.

Without hesitation, Jack undid the towel's binding and exposed you to him. His lips continued their southward journey, leaving a burning trail in their wake.

When he reached your breasts, he licked at the mounds of flesh. He palmed the underside of each breast, firming it so that he could easily capture each peak in his mouth.

He took one nipple in, coating your hardening flesh in his spit, grazing it between his teeth as his tongue whisked against it. Each flick and scrape on your nipple made your toes curl, made this... coil wind more and more.

Then, he moved to the other. He drew the nipple in, moistening it, maneuvering it with his expert lips. The effect was both torment and bliss.

And when he'd worked you up to a hot, panting mess, he lowered himself further. You felt the hard calluses of his palm scratch your thighs as he parted your legs. Where he touched, warmth spread and sent shooting pleasure up your spine.

"God, you're beautiful," You felt his breath, hot against your vulva—over your inner thighs where your secretions had gathered while he gave special attention to your breasts.

You swore you saw the hint of a smirk or a smile when you looked down at him. He kissed your glistening entrance, lips to lips. Your moan urged him on and you felt the slick muscle of his tongue part you, thrusting inside you. It felt so hot... and so arousing.

Agile and greedy, his tongue lapped up your lust as he parted your legs further. You sighed in approval, your whole body was responding to his ministrations.

Wet sounds came between your thighs as his lips closed around your clit, sucking. A finger pushed past your entrance and the suction morphed into his tongue sweeping across your clit in laps. Then another finger came, burying deep—twisting, curling.

It was all driving you crazy, until you felt a different kind of warmth.

Fluid warmth that began at the top of your head and flowed down to the rest of your body. The combination of his grinding fingers and gliding tongue finally pushed you over the edge. And your release closed in.

With a soft cry, you came all over his fingers, against his face. Your whole body tightened, belly clenched, fluttering as you lost yourself in the heavenly feeling that only Jack Morrison could produce. No one else.

And when you no longer felt his hot breath against your core, you opened your eyes and cast a heavy-lidded gaze on him.

With hasty, impatient motions, Jack took everything off. You couldn't help but stare at his arched member—long, hard and erect, jutting from his body with heated need. You felt your lips part slightly in awe, despite the haze of delight still enveloping you.

He raised your leg, hooking it over his muscular arm as he positioned himself at your entrance. You looked into his blue eyes, silently pleading for him to fuck you.

You felt the ache acutely in your womanhood, clenching—like a vice in your belly. It was amplified when you felt the broad head of his member prod your entrance.

You threw your head back in abandon, moaned his name when he stretched you so wonderfully. Your legs clenched, hips raised, chest heaved for breaths as he advanced.

You shut your eyes, surrendering to this new bliss he was awakening in you—crying out when heat flooded into your cunt, coinciding with his penetration.

"So you like it when I'm rough with you, do you?" Jack had been observing you, as lust flushed your skin with warmth, as your expression of desire became an addiction for him.

He sheathed his manhood fully inside you, and you shuddered against him.

"Mm-hmm," You answered, opening your eyes and nodding your admission. "Do your worst."

His chuckle sounded strained, but he planned to acquiesce.

He drew back, pulling away from your body, and you felt the flare of his tip grazing against your inner flesh—sending tingling jolts throughout your being.

He pulled back just enough so that the head of his cock strained your entrance open, and before you could recover from the delicious feeling, he rammed his entire length inside you.

The forcefulness sent you over the edge again, and you came—you came wildly around him, your walls clenching repetitively around his erection.

Your body wanted Jack to be permanently housed inside you. And your mind couldn't be convinced otherwise at the moment.

But he didn't relent. He pulled away and rammed again, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you. His pace quickened each time he withdrew and drove in.

Again, you threw your head back—your second blissful orgasm prolonged by each delicious assault against the bundle of nerves in your womanhood.

Was it possible to go mad from pleasure?

While you rode out your peak, Jack approached his. He relished the feeling of you around him. His free hand roamed over your body, groping hard, clutching your breasts—and you loved every second of it.

Sweat dripping down his temple, down his back, Jack continued to piston that dick into you—fighting against the resistance of your clenching cunt. Each impact into you made you tighten even more. Each drive was a maddening stroke against your spot.

He grunted as he gave a final ram and ground his hips against yours. Jack shot his cum deep in your pussy, burying himself to the hilt inside you as delightful tremors possessed him.

And orgasm claimed you again when you felt the heat flooding inside you, filling you with more than mere bodily satisfaction. Whether it was fleeting, you didn't give a damn right now.

You both lay spent next to each other after. And as you recovered your senses, silence ensued.

But Jack was first to break the quiet. "Don't transfer."

"What?" You laid on your side, facing him. "Why?"

"Truthfully? I can't bear the thought of you working under Gabriel Reyes. Or with that womanizing cowboy."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Really?"

He looked at you with the same stern gaze you were all too familiar with. He didn't find it funny.

"Stay with me," His tone sounded as if he was pleading. "I'll assign you more field missions, just... stay with me. I don't want you far from me."

You returned his gaze, pleasantly surprised to see this vulnerable side to him.

"Yes, Commander."

--

He gives Strike Commander a whole new meaning, eh? *nudge nudge wink wink*

Here's what I have in store for future chapters--ordered numerically and subject to change:
1. Doomfist
2. Hanzo
3. McCree
4. Junkrat
5. Reaper
6. Lúcio
7. Genji

I know a lot of you love Genji. Like a lot. But he's had three chapters in this book already. I gotta spread the love, guys.

I can't thank you all enough for your support! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Love, Mei