#Sniper x y/n

[junkratswifey]

SHIT BET!

accidentally catching sub sniper pleasuring himself in his camper, so we decide to give him a hand? wink wink;3

fem reader please!

DUDE YESSS I LOVE SNIPES 😭😭✨

Not really Warnings but containing: Dom reader, pet names, swearing

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Y/N was taking her morning walk, as per usual. She hadn't seen Sniper for a while, so she took the route that went past where his camper van usually was. She walked for about 10 minutes before she reached it. Suddenly, she heard some noises from it.

They sounded like whimpers..no—groaning. But the groaning sounded pleasurable. Relieving even.

Y/N walked up to the van window and knocked at it. "Snipes? Are you in here?"

The noises stopped. Sniper tried to tone down his voice. "U-um.." his voice cracked a little, "yes..I'm in here."

Y/N put her hand on the door handle. "Can I...come in?"

"NO!" Sniper cleared his throat, "Uh, n-no. I'm...doing something."

Y/N pulled on the handle, not yet opening it. "Well whatever you're doing sounds nice.."

He exhaled in a mildly erotic manner. "I-it is.."

Y/N took that as a sign that she could open the door, so she did. "What are you doing in here that's so fu...n...?"

Her face turned red, still not as red as Sniper's. There he was, buck ass naked, laying right in front of her.

"Oh my.." Y/N sighed.

Sniper tried to pull the small blanket back over his waist, but Y/N grabbed his hand first. "Don't be ashamed, Snipes. We all do it."

His face turned red-hot. "I-I know...but you're um..." he looked Y/N up and down, "a very...attractive lady, and I'm just some bloke, y'know?"

Y/N was about to leave, when she saw Sniper holding something in his left hand. "Hey, what's that?" she asked, pointing to the item.

Sniper blushed before putting it under the blanket. "Ah—nothing."

Y/N put her hands on the blanket and slid it down slowly. "No, I want to know what it was."

His eyes remained on her porcelain hands, gracefully moving the sheet. She finally found the item and flipped it over. "Oh. my. goodness," she said, "is this a picture of me?"

He snatched the photo out of her hand. "Yes, what a-about it?"

She grinned. "Snipes, don't tell me you have a crush on me."

He sighed. "Maybe just a lil one.."

She put her arms around Sniper's neck, making him gasp. "What's wrong? Is this making you..." she pauses and gets close to his ear before whispering, "nervous?"

He chuckles lightly. "No, ma'am. I—I've just never had somebody really take care of me like this before."

She smiles softly. "That's okay. I suppose I'll just have to..." she slowly drifts her hand down his stomach, "spoil you, maybe?"

He shivered at her hand. "Um..with all due respect ma'am, your hand is really close to my—"

He's cut off by Y/N's (non-dominant) hand. She covers his mouth with it, whilst still using her other hand to pleasure him.

"Do you like this," she pauses, "Mun Dee?"

WAHHHBHB I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😖😖😖

[jen-with-a-pen]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 

You wanted to take his finger and break it.  

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.” 

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!” 

“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 

“Is that all, Sergeant?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.” 

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, engineer, heavy, medic, sniper, and spy (i forgot demo i'm so sorry)

↳ warnings: bad translations, slight mentions of world war two and malpractice

↳ song: with a little help from my friends—joe cocker

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He would be so smug about it

• Puffing his chest out and everything

• His friends in the past- and even family members -have teased him for mispronouncing words or speaking too fast, and it’s made him a bit self conscious about the way he talks. But after hearing that you find it endearing, its a giant ego boost for him

• “Yeah dat’s right! Who’s awesome? I’m awesome!” Scout smiles as he flexes his arms in your face, subjecting you to what he likes to call a surprise gun show. You pretend to hate it as you shove his arm away, but chuckle all the same

• He’s already gloated before that he already knew his accent was the best. Boston is the greatest place in the world after all! But hearing it from you really just sent him over the moon

• Makes a point to talk to you a lot more now; as if he didn’t already

• “Yo! Hey did you see that kill out there? I totally messed dat Spy up! One wrong step and pow! He’s dead meat!”

• “I saw Scout. I was covering your flank while you did it, remember?”

• “Yeah yeah, but I just thought you’d like ta hear about it again.”

𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫

• Didn’t consider himself to have an accent until you pointed him out

• Sure, he says the occasional y’all and ain’t, but not enough to qualify as a whole different way of speaking

• It wasn’t until he dropped a hammer on his foot and cursed that he understood what you’d meant

• “What in the sam hill! Sweet hell!” He’d exclaimed, startled. Once the throbbing in his leg had subsided, Engineer replayed his words in his head, making a slight o with his mouth as he realized you were probably right. To some extent at least

• He was a born and raised Texas boy, so it makes sense that the culture rubbed off

• Doesn’t understand at first that you find it nice. Maybe he thought you pointed it out just because you could? He’s a bit distracted when it comes to anything but machinery, so he misses context sometimes

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲

• Surprised that someone like you who can speak English fluently finds his mannerisms attractive

• Gets frustrated sometimes when he can’t remember certain words in English. Heavy is a very smart man, so it aggravates him when he looks illiterate in front of his team

• That’s why hearing that you like his mother tongue caught him by surprise

• “But you don’t know any Russian?” He’d rumbled out as a question. When you shook your head no, still sporting a smile, his eyebrows furrowed further

• “Nah. But I like hearing it when it comes from you. It sounds more natural. Like you’re more comfortable than normal, you know?”

• You’re technically right. When Heavy slips into Russian, often whilst talking to Sasha or simply forgetting that not everyone on the team know how to speak it, he is more comfortable in his words. They flow better, and he’s flattered that you’ve noticed

• One hundred percent offers to teach you Russian in his spare time. He finds it slightly adorable how you stumble over words in your broken translations, but always manages to softly correct you

• He’s a really good teacher

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Positively thrilled that you like his voice

• When you tell him for the first time, he goes into shock for a moment before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve seen. Somehow its a perfect balance between excited and malicious

• “Do you hear zhat Archemedies? Mein freund here enjoys my accent!” He cooes at his bird, chuckling in a way that would make anyone’s insides squirm

• Once you look past Medic’s initially devious reaction, it’s very clear he enjoys knowing this

• If anything, the ex-doctor would have thought that you’d enjoy the more stereotypically romantic sounding languages. Spanish, Latin, etc

• German has always been considered harsh or scary sounding, and it turned a lot of people away from hiring him after the events of World War Two, which he understood. Still, Medic finds himself absolutely tickled that you are drawn to his accent

• Finds himself slipping more and more into German while doing checkups on you now. When he catches himself, he translates most of what’s he’s said back to you. But sometimes he’ll simply forget, and it leaves you wondering if he’s offered you a glass of water or the opportunity to swap your bladder out

• You sincerely hoped it was the former

𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

• Oh my god you killed him

• Sniper is very reserved. Living in his camper, hunting his own game for dinner instead of joining the others, literally pissing in jars, etc etc

• Being a man of few words comes part and parcel with that; which normally works out just find because Scout talks enough for ten people

• Hasn’t said much to you before. He mostly communicates in head nods or slight tilts of his coffee mug in your direction. Maybe a few ‘good mornin’s’ tossed around, but nothing more than that

• “You know, you should talk more.” You’d said to him one day while pouring a fresh pot of tea you had just boiled into your own mug. He preferred black coffee himself, but whatever floats your boat

• “You voice.” You elaborated after a sip. You must have noticed his confused look as you carried on. “It’s nice. Can’t imagine that you don’t have gals throwing themselves at you all the time because of it.”

• Suddenly very grateful he wasn’t drinking any of his brew at the time, because what you said surely would have made him choked

• He, in fact, had had a few ladies approach him in town before saying something along the same lines. Even a few fellas. But nothing made him blanch this strongly like you had

• Excuses himself as he walks out of the room suddenly, tilting his hat down to cover his face no one can see the furious red tint forming

• Sniper leaves you in the communal kitchen. Holding a steaming cup of liquid and looking very confused

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• Already knew before you told him

• To anyone else, it would have been passible as just curiosity. But Spy’s job is to know things, and it is an undeniable fact that you found his voice attractive

• Doesn’t utilize this weapon often. You are not a weak willed person swayed by just a few words, so when he needs something he pulls out all the stops

• Of course, that doesn’t stop him from being impressed when you eventually admit your little not-so-secret-secret to him. And of your own free will. He didn’t have to pry it out of you, which was a feat on its own

• Much like Heavy, he extends the offer of teaching you how to learn his language. Now that he no longer has this knowledge as a bargaining chip, he might as well seize the opportunity to teach you a proper language

• Considers using electroshock therapy to condition you faster, but nixes it pretty quick

• Again, like Heavy, he finds it cute how horrible you are at French. More amused than anything, but he can appreciate the way you practice verbs in your free time even when he isn’t leaning over your shoulder

• That you know of, that is

• Praises you often in french, letting excited phrases slip when you nail a particularly hard set of words

• “Merveilleux ! Tu t’améliores beaucoup, ma petite. Encore une fois.”

• While you don’t understand the full extent to his words, you smile and continue on, eventually realizing what he had said later in a fit of embarrassment

[2-dsimp]

I have a terrible headache rn everything hurts can I have a forehead kith from your sillies?

Ossian the Sniper: “Every kiss I share with you, feels like one of my dreams coming true”

[luxthestrange]

KNY Incorrect quotes#103 Straight to the heart~

Urogi*Flying across the sky cackling but then felt something slice his neck and spotted you holding a snipper gun, the wound not healing given the bullet is drenched in Kocho's poisons*-HA MISS ME MISS ME NOW YOU GOTTA KISS-...

SniperHashira!Y/n*Raises brow at him and smirks*...Now I gotta what?

Urogi*Feeling slightly flustered and frowns*Nothing!!!Forget it-

SniperHashira!Y/n*Smirks wider now finding joy outta this*Now I gotta what?~

...Could this be a thing?-

[sleepyhead0720]

Hey I don't know if you're still taking requests but I was wondering if you could do the straw hats with a gn! reader who is shorter than them? I just find it cute

Sure! I hope you enjoy<3

Masterlist

Luffy

-He either doesn’t care about your height or he makes fun of you every chance he gets, it’s a 50/50

-aside from that, he doesn’t really care about it, your personality is all that matters to him.

-If anything he likes it cause he has an exuse to be with you constantly because ‘what if you can’t reach something?’

-another thing he also likes about it is it makes it easy to told you and trap you to pepper you with kisses and hugs

-it also makes it easy for him to carry you!

-he also likes whenever you try to take his straw hat,he bends down a bit for you to take it and it always ends up with the two of you battling for it.

-Luffy likes that even though your shorter then most people you can still put up a fight, your size also comes to use whenever you fight

-Whenever the two of you cuddle, he likes being the big spoon since he feels like he’s protecting you

-over all he doesn’t mind it and loves you either way

Zoro

-Teases you relentlessly

-He makes fun of you EVERY CHANCE he gets

-He also uses it against you whenever both of you pick on eachother

-Besides from the teasing, he loves hugging you from behind as he places his chin on top of your head

-he loves when ever he sees you fight

-He uses it as an excuse to carry you constantly

-If anyone else makes fun of your height, consider them dead meat

-Whenever the two of you take a nap together, he always places you in between his legs as he holds you against his chest while the two of you fall asleep

-Finds it funny whenever you try to reach something and always teases you before helping you

-Even though your short, he still respects you and loves you as always

Usopp

-When I tell you this man LOVES that your shorter then him

-He makes you weapons that only work for your height which is a big advantage

-He still teases you a little but makes it clear that he doesn’t mind you being shorter then most people

-Whenever he hugs you he always slightly Carrie’s you and twirls you around

-Is the kind to help you with stuff and later teases you about it

-He’s mostly chill with you being short compared to everyone else

-He knows that you being short doesn’t mean that you aren’t powerful so whenever there’s an enemy he hides behind you which is sometimes pretty funny to see considering the height difference

Sanji

-Like everyone else, he loves it

-He always uses it as an excuse to give you piggy back rides and carry you wherever you go!

-No teasing at all. Okay maybe a little but that’s it

-He knows you can fight but he still has this instinct to protect you (not just bc you height)

-He always gives you pets on your head whenever he passes you

-He secretly loves whenever you try to make your self taller to give him a kiss or a pet on the head

-Loves to carry you around the ship too

-He’ll let you borrow his shirts that don’t fit him anymore, it’s still big on you either way

-He’s very respectful with you and very caring

Nami

-thinks your a child when you first met her

-For some reason I don’t see her be one to tease you, maybe chuckle a little when you try to reach for something but that’s it

-whenever she’s in a good mood she loves hugging you randomly and putting your face against her chest while she softly hums

-She also likes whenever you lean against her while you fall asleep

-She’s pretty chill but there’s still SOME teasing eventually

Robin

-Doesn’t mind it at all

-No teasing at all either

-The most normal one out of everybody

-like nami she loves hugging you and placing your face against her chest while the both of you lean against each other

-If you try to reach for something, she’ll help by using her powers. No teasing or anything just right away helps you weather you asked for it or not

-whenever the two of you are out in public she always holds your hand so you don’t get lost or sticks with you so you don’t get separated

-She loves watching you fight especially when the opponent underestimates you

-Aside from that she acts completely normal

|———————————————————————|

[warnersister]

Talking with your mouth shut.

König x Reader

Call of Duty x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, death, sniping, family deaths, mutism

Reader Callsign: Tasmanian ‘Devil’

(Not my gif)

When you first joined the 141 the group were all warned. Your last mission had been gruelling and painful and as a result of your trauma, you no longer spoke. This didn’t hinder your work, when they asked over the radio to check you were still okay they’d receive a moment of static or another type of noise you’d allow yourself to make, half of the time it was you knocking in morse code to confirm. When soap had asked if you’d speak to tell them if you were truly in danger, you’d just given an affirmative nod.

You spoke with your eyes. That’s what Konig had noticed. You always joined in the conversations just not with your tongue. At least that’s what he told himself when he found himself staring at you for long enough that you noticed and offered him a quizzical look with one eyebrow raised.

Konig was enamoured by you from the moment you walked through that door. And you may think that he refused to admit it - the love he held for you. But no, it was one of the very few pleasures he allowed himself. His austere and stern position towards himself simply melts away when you are near.

It wasn’t difficult to fall in love with you. Not at all. With the way your belt tightened your camos to your waist, and your black t-shirt hugging your body in all the right places, stance upright and rigid, muscles prominent enough to poke through your clothes, enough to make himself rut into his hand a lot more nights than he cared to admit. But what really enthralled him, were your eyes.

You were sleeping off the last mission when Ghost and Konig were talking about you. Ghost said your eyes scared him. “When she looks at me there’s just nothing. It’s like she’s dead behind ‘em. I wanna ask what happened, y’know?” He asked and Konig had nodded. “But then again I think that if I do ask she will drop dead.”

That’s not the look you gave him. Not at all. Every time you looked up at him they were bright and full of emotion. They could shine happily or burn with anger or roll sarcastically, but some of the time when you didn’t know he was looking, they’d be full of something he could relate to. They were full of pain and tears.

He knew you were crippled with pain. A weight heavy at your shoulders other than your gun. But like Ghost, he would never ask. If you wanted to ‘talk’ then you would. And if you never did he didn’t mind. He understood enough.

From day dot you had naturally gravitated towards Konig. The first person to never be surprised when you looked up at him and noticed his height, simply giving him a passive once-over and moving on. New mission? You were on his left. Spare time? Winning him at cards. Free night? Laid next to him looking at the stars while he pointed out constellation to you. You were always there and he was always here, ready for when you were ready to open your heart to him that he had done for you.

Tasmanian Devil was what they had named you, Devil for short. The small beasts had the same temperament that you held behind your eyes, they have a reputation for flying into a rage when threatened by a predator, fighting for a mate, or defending a meal - exactly what your bursts of rage represent. Konig liked to call you his little devil. He could tell you smiled under your mask when he said that, the only time you would.

This new mission contained teams of two. “Konig and Devil, we’ll send you to the north building, best sniping position for the house.” Konig said something and you gave a thumbs up before you turned to go get ready.

And here you were, laid on your stomachs side by side, snipers in hand and looking for the enemy target - a captain and his comrades. What they had failed to mention was that his comrades were his family. Wife and two children. A boy and a girl. The boy looked no older than eight, and his sister four. You inhaled sharply and exhaled a shaky breath, lowering your weapon. Konig lowered his slightly and turned to you, watching your eyes swell with salty tears, your eyeblack beginning to run. He had to admit, you looked gorgeous. But now wasn’t the time for that. He raised his mic so nosy ears couldn’t listen and he reached his left hand out to grab your hip and draw comforting shapes along it with his thumb. You buried your head into his neck, eyes shut tight so he couldn’t see them.

He raised his gun, grasped your waist tightly and took four shots then silence as he dropped his gun and used both hands to pull you into an embrace. He manoeuvred you to be sat in his lap and cradling you like a baby. Lowering his mic again, he spoke. “Devil got the shot. My weapon wasn’t required, over.” A voice returned. “Roger confirmation, wait at point Charlie as surveillance until further instruction. Well done Devil. Over.” “Roger, out.” Then his mic was returned above his helmet. You looked up at him, pain and questioning behind those tired eyes of yours. “Every good solider must struggle. I’ve got you meine liebe. I understand.” A loud and broken sob emitted from your throat as the first sound he had ever heard you make. He understood. He knew why you were in pain. Konig knows.

He pecked your forehead comfortingly through both of your masks as he allowed you to cry and calm down, and he loved the way you clawed at his chest and grabbed him like you needed him. Like a damsel in distress.

He never spoke of it when you got back to base and nor did your eyes. But you definitely got closer. Sometimes he liked to think that was the day you opened yourself up to him to let him love you. But those sometimes he also realised that was just his subconscious playing tricks on him.

It was loud in your head, looking at the Mountain Man. Oh how you wanted to tell him how much pain you were in, and how much he soothed it. How much you loved him. You wanted to scream it from the rooftops but your voice would not allow. Instead pleading at him with wide and desperate eyes hoping that someday he may recognise your expression and require your feelings. If only he knew.

Then the dreaded day came for Konig. The day that you would all return home to your families. The day that you would probably run into your lovers arms and leave him behind. The day the intoxicating dream he was living in would come crashing down and his heart would shatter into a million pieces. The chatter was loud on the plane, men excitedly talking about their families and their homes yet the two of you remained silent. Your hand slowly crept over to his and rested atop of his clenched fist which instantly relaxed when he felt your warming touch. His hand turned over and threaded his fingers with his own, thumb doing labs back and forth over your knuckle. He could allow himself to live in paradise just a bit longer.

Ghost shook hands with you all and exclaimed a ‘see you soon!’ as he walked over to a couple of elders and embraced the woman tightly. And slowly, everyone bid their farewells until Konig was all alone. But where did you go? He couldn’t remember seeing you leave. But then again, he was better off not having to see the man you loved. He turned to leave himself, when he stopped in his tracks. There you were, sat on a bench alone with your arms crossed and an unreadable expression covered by tears in your eyes. He slowly made his way over to you, sitting down and about to say something before you interjected.

“They are all dead, Konig.” You spoke in a small and raspy voice from lack of usage. “I’m waiting for my family to pick me up and I know they’re not coming.” His heart twanged with pain in his chest but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, too entranced by the sweet sound of you. But it hurt him how much he related. “They shot every one of them and I was the one who found them. The worst part is it was my partner who killed them.” You said with a sniff, the image you walked home into relaying in your mind. He listened to you talk, just listened. Soaking up every minute he could have hearing your siren song. “I give my life for my country and it gives me nothing back. I am alone, Konig.”

“You have me, mein liebling. You will always have me.” You were quiet again, looking up into his faithful eyes and realised what you had been missing all along. Slowly, you reached for your balaclava and pulled it up and over your head until it fell into the seat beside you. Konig couldn’t believe what he was seeing. You were beautiful. He couldn’t believe that after all this time the woman he was in love with was so gorgeous. He mirrored your actions with a shaky arm, pulling his mask off and placing it in a similar place to yours. He was waiting for your horror, a scoff from your lips, disgust in your eyes. But instead, the softened as you looked at his face, a small smile growing as you did a quick once over, hand slowly reaching out to trace a scar on his jaw as he leaned into your hand, the touch-starved man yearning for affection. He reached his hands out to your face. “You have always got me, my little devil.” And he kissed you sweetly, tongues tying as you spoke through your minds, a voice finally restored to a broken broken marionette. You realised that with Konig, you would always be okay.

[respawned-dove]

GOD your headcanons are so good... could i maybe get a short fic with a yandere sniper x transmasc reader.... doing gods work ouult here

I hope you don't mind it, anon, I heavily headcanon Sniper as transmasc as well, so this will be t4t.

yan! transmasc! Sniper x transmasc! Reader - NSFW

CW/TW: stalking, violence, noncon voyeurism, implied necrophilism (not descriptive, imagined by a character and not actually happening), marijuana & cigarette mentions, self loathing, sadism

Worn leather boots trudge up sandy dirt as Sniper steps out of his camper, shifting the strap of his gun as he looks up at the buildings above him. In the dark, the apartment blocks and houses loom overhead with darkened windows. He’s been here often enough that he knows exactly the fire escape to climb, and the exact ladder from there that takes him to the roof. Settling into the highest point, he sets up his gun in a makeshift nest. The only reason he brought it, really, is the scope. His scope is a fucking nice one, he doesn’t even hazard a guess at how much it cost the people he works for. It’s perfect for seeing long distances, for seeing into the crevices of every place he’s not meant to look.

Through the small lens, he focuses in on a seemingly random apartment, seeking the content within. The lights are still on, and being so high up, you never close your blinds. It gives him a view of your bedroom window, like a private theatre screen. He checks his watch, which reads 22:00, around the time you get into the shower every night. Annoyingly he has some time to kill before you’ll be there to watch. Grumbling to himself, he pulls out a cigarette to smoke. Lit, he pulls a puff of smoke in, eyes still focused through the scope.

Sniper has been watching you for a while now, though what started it he himself can hardly remember. A bit too much kindness shown to a stranger in a public place, being followed home without noticing, and now you have a gunman’s sights trained on you for life. He closes his eyes as he takes a particularly deep breath of nicotine, something itching in his mind. It bothers him often, the idea of approaching you again. You wouldn’t remember him, surely. It would just be an organic meeting, an organic going out for drinks.

With a grimace, he puts out the cigarette on his own hand, scoffing at himself. As if he feels at place enough in a bar to take you out, or could have a normal conversation for once in his life. It’s not worth the risk of ruining the chance. He prefers the fantasy of you. The idea of having you to himself, without any of the practice required to maintain a relationship with a human being.

Before he can dwell on his moping, there’s movement in your room. You step out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. His cheeks grow ruddy and his hands grip tighter to his gun as he watches you move. He remembers the first time he saw you like this, the brief confusion at the towel being over your middle and bottom at once. But it came off and showed him the stars. Thinking about it stirs him up, and as the towel falls from you in his scope, he tugs his own pants off a bit, unbuttoning them to reach his own tcock.

Touching himself slowly, firmly, he watches you move around the room naked. Dumb thing to do with your blinds open, he thinks. Like you want someone to bloody stare at you. He bites his lip, hard, breathing out heavily. The thought that you know somehow, that you would want him to be seeing you like this, it makes his whole body hot. You’ve laid out on your bed, naked. Innocently relaxing post-shower. All while giving him the perfect view of your entire form.

Your body is softer than his. You’ve definitely not been taking testosterone as long as he has. Eyes half closing he pictures how warm and gentle your flesh would be, yielding to his hands as they would squeeze and prod at you. In his mind he pictures what your moans might sound like. He imagines how easily you might get aroused with him touching you, how easily his fingers would fit into you. He curls two into himself, imagining it’s your body instead. It makes him shudder and groan, adjusting the scope to zoom in on you even further. God, it’s like he’s right there in bed with you.

He bites a tooth into his fresh cigarette burn, crying out and groaning quietly. Would you do things like that for him? Would you hurt him? Let him hurt you? In the hot night air he’s drenched in sweat, jerking himself off to the sight of you, the idea of you. He imagines putting on a harness and using a toy on you. He’s never done that before, but with you he wants it. He wants it, to feel you pinned under him like a caught animal. Crying under him as he bites and claws you.

You’ve rolled onto your stomach on your bed, and he wants to be there, on top of you, feeling you, hurting you. He strokes his tcock hurriedly, feeling his knife split your skin, feeling his hands hurt you even beyond the ways he’s hurt men before. Hitting you, carving into you, smashing your head onto the ground until you’re silent. Warm blood coming from your skin. And his hands the cause of it all, pleasure, pain. He feels you cum. He feels you die. And then he cums to the thought.

The clarity of what he just got off to hits him before he’s even done orgasming, and he reels his face away from his scope, panting hotly. The redness in his face becomes one of shame rather than arousal, and he clutches a hand into his shirt as he tries to calm himself down. What kind of sick freak is he, what was that? He knows what it was. He thinks these things often, no matter how much he pushes them back. Even on the battlefield he feels that excitement, the arousal of someone dying by his hand. Pleasure found in splattering brains. But, you? Did he just think that of you?

There’s a reason you’re better off as only an idea to him.

He wipes his hand on his own clothes and packs himself back up in his van as quickly as possible. Drives far away, even past his team’s base, out into the desert. Quiet. It’s quiet out there. He parks, and rests his head on the steering wheel. Nothing but the sounds of night out there now. And him panting.

Sleep doesn’t come for him that night, and instead he spends it trying to stop thinking about you and how you’re sleeping. He smokes, then smokes weed instead, and watches the sun rising while telling himself he can’t even go back and watch you again, that he can’t let himself indulge in the sadism he can never wash his brain from.

But he will go back. And he will watch you again. And of course, he’ll cum to those exact thoughts, again and again.

[bluespace-writer]

⁺˚⋆｡°✩ 𝖶𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀. 𝖨𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 find and 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖳𝖥𝟤 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍!✩°｡⋆˚⁺

✩@bluespace-skull is my art blog. Or....something.

『 Requests - Opened 』

✎ I write:

- Reader x TF2 Characters- Romantic/Crush/Platonic

- TF2 x TF2 Characters- Mostly Platonic/Rarely Romantic [I'm not a big shiper 😅]

- TF2 Characters headcanons + interactions [like Spydad etc.]

✎ I DON'T write:

NSFW, s€x with any characters, topics that are uncomfortable for me

by adornedwithlight

☆Seat saved for you:

> Team Fortress characters and GenderNeutral!Reader - [platonic,family dynamic]

☆ TF2 mercs headcanons:

RED Team headcanoncs:

> all 9 mercs

BLU team headcanoncs:

>all 9 mercs

✩Sniper:

> Bush with flowers Sniper x reader [crushing on Sniper]

> Rookie and a professional Sniper x Masculine reader [crush, romantic]

> Hunting for sunset Sniper x Masculine Reader [romantic]

> TF2 Vampire Sniper x Reader Headcanons [crush]

> 𝖶𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗌𝖾 TF2 Sniper Fic [warning: angst, mentions of death, blood,respawn effect ]

✩Medic:

> Unusual Medical care Medic x reader [platonic]

> Team fortress BLU and RED Medic headcanons: When they caught feelings for someone

> Heart in the pocket Medic x Masculine Reader

> Bloody dance Medic x reader [romantic]

> Birds, Bears and blood Heavy x Medic [romantic, platonic[?]]

> Not so fast surgery Medic and Scout [platonic]

> Red duo Heavy [x]and Medic [Come on. You know what]

> Little Taube Medic and Niece reader [platonic, family dynamic]

> Not so deferent HCTrans!Medic x Trans Reader 🏳️‍⚧️ [romantic]

✩Spy:

> Ma petite fleur Spy x Reader [crush, romantic]

> Ma petite fleur: Garden Spy x Reader [romantic]

> Mind and body- BLU Spy mini-story

> Mission, father Spydad action story [Spy and Scout]

✩Engineer:

> Workin' with love Engineer x reader [crush, sligthly romantic]

> Engineer x Reader Headcanons [crush/romantic]

✩Pyro:

> Fire and smoke Pyro x reader [romantic]

✩Heavy:

> Ropes and Dingos Heavy mini-story

> Birds, Bears and blood Heavy x Medic [come on. You know what.]

✩Scout:

> Hard to ask Scout x reader [crush]

> Mission, father Scout and Spy [Spydad action story]

> Not so fast surgery Medic and Scout [platonic]

✩Demoman:

> Aye got my eye on you Demoman x reader [crush, slightly romantic]

[usopps-devotee]

Use your nose

He has a pretty face that is nice to sit on, today you finally tell him to use his nose.

Tags; face sitting, oral (f receiving), cumming untouched, praise kink, switch usopp and reader if you squint, grammar mistakes

Wc. 1.5k

This idea of yours sparked the moment your provocative little eyes fell on his nose. It's not your fault, it isn't. It's just sitting so pretty on his face, loud and proud waiting for you to sit on it.

The problem is getting there. The man was an expert with his tongue, albeit messy but who could complain when it always felt so good? Usopp was always so sweet, giving more than you could handle sometimes. His soft whimpers and pleas against your body were something you could not resist and you would always give in.

So with a man who already gives his all how could you ask for more? Selfishly was the only way you could decide. Laying your desire on display knowing he would cater to your every word.

That's how you found yourself here, Usopp pinned to the bed hair spread out like the most beautiful curled halo you've ever seen.

Your lips were locked with his, plush, swollen, and wet ones. You're devouring all the whimpers and moans slipping past them as one hand drags across his skin and the other pinches his pretty brown nipple. Breaking the kiss with a giggle, you left small kisses across his face, before sitting up.

“Baby…” your voice hardly above a coo, as you caress his cheek staring into his eyes and downing on their abyss.

You start to strip throwing his shirt that you borrowed over your head, his hands immediately found their way to your breast. Kissing your chest anywhere he could reach, nose pressed into your cleavage.

"Hm?" He distracted with what was in front of him, his mouth quickly finding your nipple, and his tongue swirled around the dark areola, before trailing over melanated skin to the other.

“Don't use your fingers tonight.” you move your hips to remove your shirts and panties, eyes glued to the string that connected your slick pussy.

“Use your nose.” he looks at you like a deer in the headlight. There's nothing he can say, staring at your naked body eyed glossing every inch of your sun-kissed skin. Giving a shakey nod he lays back down swallowing a lump in his throat, you find yourself in the same position.

You're hovering above his face, hands placed on his chest to keep yourself stable. "Two taps if you can't breathe okay?" Under you, he mumbled "got it," pulling your hips closer to his face.

The feeling of the round tip slowly entering you was bliss and hard to describe. It was thinner than his cock but still reached the spots you needed it to as you slowly sank to his nostrils. The feeling of his tongue brushing your clip caught you off guard ad he pulled your hips down the rest of the way to taste you. Moans left you both as your hips writhed and bucked at the pleasure.

Under you, his mind was instantly clouded with the feeling of you. The smell of your ambrosia, the feeling of your clamping around his nose, and the taste of your pussy were too much for him.

Lifting your hips to gain more friction there's a wet popping sound from Usopp detaching from your pussy and gasping for air. Winding up his nose you give him this second of air before being pulled back down and forced to grind on his face.

"More," was the only word that came from the pirate's mouth as he continues to pull you down, licking and sucking anything he can reach. His face is covered down to his neck with his saliva and your juice. A part of you would regret not being able to see his face had you not been sitting on it.

You're bearly able to hold your body because of everything you're taking, even then you're convinced it's his hands keeping you stable. You couldn't focus on anything if you tried, moan after moan slipped from your lips with no control and no sign of stopping anything soon.

"S-so good baby, you're making me feel so, so good."

Your hand clawed over his chest, reaching for something, anything to hold on to. Red lines are left in the wake of your nails as you feel him groan against you.

You're squeezing his nose for all its worth hips shuttering, small uneven movements every time he moves his face. You're close so he can taste it, helping you rock, trying to keep a steady pace with shaking hands.

"Cum. Please please cum for me. I was to taste you, I need to feel you cum for me please."

His words and greed pushed you over the edge. Your thighs clamped so tightly to his head he hardly hears the scream ripped from your throat. Usopp could not find it in himself to care either way. His tongue has yet to slow down or stop the assault on your clit, moaning just as loud as you are while devouring every last drop of your essence.

Try as you might, but there's no stopping the current assault of his tongue. You try to pull your hips up, to be slammed right back on his face. You're hardly even sure he can breathe with the way that he is panting.

"Another, please another. Just one more,"

You can't find yourself denying him, continuing to ride him, and completely giving in to his need for your pleasure. The both of you are so loud, the sound of him savoring you like his last meal could be heard from outside the door, let alone your excessive moans. Your cum dripping from his nose added to the mess under you. If he were lucky he'd be smelling you for weeks.

His fingers are digging into that spot in your hips that feels just right as he guides you on his face. Kissing and licking clit when you're brought back down to his lips. Strong hands helping you ride him like you wanted to.

Usopp presses against your cervix every time he brings you down, the feeling of him sliding against your walls is already too much to handle. When he starts to praise you again you swear you're up in heaven with the rest of the sky islands.

"That's it, princess. Ride me, use me, please."

His voice is keening, pleading while he can. You can tell he's drunk off your taste, mind altered to be unable to think about anything else. Kiss, praise, repeat; this is the cycle you find yourself in.

You're doing everything in your power not to let your legs give out, their shaking is causing your entire body to shutter along with them. The sniper graciously ignored this fact being the only thing that kept you steady. Not minding some of the marks on his chest now started to bleed.

"Gonna cum," were the only words that fell from your lips in a whisper, unheard but felt by the man below you. Eyes rolling back as bliss overtakes you, wave after wave. Moans are reduced to nothing but a silent scream as you ride out our high.

You hadn't been the only one feeling good, the friction against his pants and the reactions you'd given him was more than enough. There's a prominent cum stain on the front of his pants. If he were honest his boxers were completely soaked by the time you hit your first orgasm. You didn't notice till you got off and sat on his chest, both of you panting, desperately trying to catch your breath.

"You still alive, uso baby?"

"I think I went to heaven might take me some time to get back." Laughter followed this sentiment after you plopped next to him on the bed. "Thank you" was mumbled as you curled up in his arms for the time being.

Unsurprisingly he recovered quicker than you did getting up he kiss you on the forehead and slid down your body to give you another on your clit, telling you how perfect you were each time.

"I'll be back soon." He left you in comfortable silence, relaxing in the afterglow. It wasn't long before you see Usopp return with a drink, bucket, and towel. Setting the drink down first he started to clean you off, small apologies left his lips whenever he saw you twitch.

Usopp helped you sit up and gave you your drink, making sure you didn't down it too quickly by holding his hands over yours and the glass. Once you were done he goes to put everything back and swaps out the pillow his head was on for a clean one.

He held you close and whispered sweet nothings in your ear till falling asleep in each other's comfort.

[trentsbabymama]

EAVESDROPPER

OPLA!Usopp x Artist!Reader

summary: while you vent to Nami about your feelings of Usopp, the devil himself intrudes in overhearing everything you’ve just talked about.

takes place in alabasta arc ig

contains: angst to fluff, sfw, not proofread, also ik Kaya ain’t like this I love her just gotta do it for the story babes

masterlist

————————————————————————

“I just don’t know what else to do Nami.” You sighed to her, you were both sitting in the kitchen drinking whatever new cocktail Sanji had made up for the both of you. “I don’t think he likes me that way, I mean I’m pretty sure he’s hooked on Kaya the way they kissed before he joined us.” You said, mentally cringing at the memory.

“Come on y/n! That was like what, a year ago? I’m pretty sure they don’t even talk.” Nami exclaimed as she rubbed your arm as a way of letting you know she was there for you. You know they still talk though, you’ve seen him hunched over his desk (if he has one in his room..?), writing letters to her. Your heart broke even more seeing the excited look on his face when he got a letter back from her.

You and Usopp were fairly close, spending the day together from sunrise to sunset daily. You’d give feedback on his newest creations and he’d give advice on your fighting skills, or your drawings you’d draw of the new islands you visited or just your crew. You’d never admit it but your sketchbook was mostly full of him, some he knew about and happily posed for while other ones you’d do in your free time as everyone was chilling together on the Going Merry. Shortly after he joined the crew you noticed your development in feelings for him and tried to ignore them, but ultimately gave in.

“Y/N!” Nami exclaimed, realizing you had zoned out while you two were talking. “God, you’re actually day-dreaming of him?” She shivered dramatically while you rolled your eyes at her. Nami looked at you and sighed as you laid your head against her shoulder, finishing your drink. “I just- I like him so much Nami and I don’t want to ruin our friendship by telling him while he’s got his eyes on another woman.. I’ve been somewhat distancing myself from him to try to loose those feelings but it’s just making me abt him more.” You sniffled, feeling your emotions getting the best of you.

“Oh y/n..” Nami gasped slightly, taking you into her arms as you felt tears invading your lashline. “Look, if he doesn’t realize how stupid he is to have you it’s his loss! I’m sure he-“ Nami ranted before getting cut off by a familiar someone falling face first through the kitchen door. You gasped as you saw Usopp groan as he got up. “Uh.. hi?” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Did you.. hear everything?” You asked, standing up now from your seat. “I- maybe? But it’s okay! I actually, wait y/n!” Usopp yelled after you as you speed walked out of the kitchen, running towards you and Nami’s shared room past everybody else as quickly as you could. Your heart was beating fast as you locked the door behind you, sliding down it as you finally let everything out.

“You idiot!” Nami yelled at Usopp, hitting behind his head as he groaned rubbing it.

————————————————————————

It was now hours later, you were curled up in your bed refusing to come out of your room no matter who knocked or begged for you to come out. It was now a bit past dinner time, you sighed and sat up on your bed. You then got up and decided you could go up to the deck for some fresh air as everyone would be retreating to their rooms for the night. You quickly walked up the stairs and leaned against the railing, letting out a big sigh.

“y/n?” You heard a familiar voice ask, growing the ache in your heart bigger. It was Usopp, you didn’t say anything or move but he did. He stood beside you leaning on the rail aswell, glancing at you awkwardly.

“I- god I don’t know how to do this stuff.. y/n I-“ Usopp stuttered out before you cut him off. “It’s okay, Usopp. I know you and Kaya love each other. Please don’t let what you heard in the kitchen ruin our friendship. I just-“ you sighed out before it was Usopp turn to cut you off with a kiss, your eyes wide with shock before closing them and melting into the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you closer before pulling away for a breather.

“y/n, I love you. Kaya and me aren’t a thing, it was just one kiss honestly. We tried to make it work with writing letter back and forth but one day she told me she fell in love with another kid from our village, and I was okay with that honestly. Because I want you. You make me feel so nervous and happy and- just everything. I like you so much y/n, I want you as my girlfriend, not her. I’m not very good at this yet but I promise I’ll try for you and protect you, as the great captain Usopp!” He told you, smiling.

You looked back at him in shock, processing everything before giving him another quick peck on the lips.

“Of course, God Usopp.”

————————————————————————

Thank you so much for reading! Also sorry it’s kinda short.. please give me any advice and I’m looking for mutuals, so please ask if you’d like to be! I’ll also take any requests.

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

————————————————————————

Bonus pic of the sillies (≧∀≦)

[th3tism]

Hey, if you like my stuff, pls request MORE stuff!!! All of my info is in my pinned post!!!

[supernatural-bias]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, medic, pyro, sniper, and spy

↳ warnings: talk of pain but nothing too in detail. specific area of pain is kept ambiguous for inclusiveness

↳ song: teenage dirtbag—dsiboys

masterlist!

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• Scout is honestly just bummed you won't be playing any baseball games with him anytime soon

• He strikes me as the type of guy to not take your illness as seriously as he should, often making pokes and jabs of you just wanting to get out of stuff, until he sees one of your bad days with his own eyes

• After that, he's so ashamed of himself for how he acted. Shuffling his feet and rubbing the back of his neck anxiously; all that jazz

• Is a lot more aware of your needs now

• Still puts up a front. Refuses to be anything sort of quote unquote 'manly', so expressing that he's worried about your wellbeing is hard to do in front of the others

• Does care about you, though. He might get teased for it— resulting in the tips of his ears turning red and a bunch of angry denial —but at the end of the day he'll offer up his prized comic books for you to read as a distraction

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Medic has undoubtedly noticed your condition far before you chose to tell him. How he had figured it out so quick, you had no idea, but he probably found out the same way he knew what your blood type was. Despite never having given him a sample

• It's a bit weird at first, having someone who constantly wants to do invasive surgery on your body actually offering to ease your pain.

• It is Medic after all. A small part of you had been nervously wondering if he would get some sort of sick joy out of watching you struggled to do basic tasks

• Instead, he was giving you special visitation hours with Archemedes while he tinkered with what he dubbed 'Your Problem Area'. Whether that was your knees or back or shoulders, a file on your condition quickly opened and the quickest course of action was taken to remedy it

• Gives you little suckers at the end of your visits and a big smile for a job well done

𝐏𝐲𝐫𝐨

• You aren't sure if they understand what you're saying when you first explain it

• To be fair, you can't decipher them on a normal basis, so this was expected

• But Pyro just tilts their head before letting out what sounded like a sniffling noise and bringing you into a bone crushing hug

• You wouldn't be able to tell, but in their own special Pyro Vision, the arsonist could occasionally see a painful red surrounding you anytime you felt like this. And it pained them to know you were hurting from something other than the scheduled battles

• Colors you crude little drawings with their box of crayons Engineer bought them. It often depicts you and them riding unicorns or jumping over rainbows. Always smiling and having fun

• Takes to plastering little cartoony bandaids over your skin. They don't really solve any actual pain, but the thought is still there

• Will make little fires for you and bring you to them happily. Normally, it's followed by Heavy or Engineer rushing over to put it out before it spread

𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

• On the off chance that he actually came out of his trailer, Sniper would be awkwardly helpful

• He most likey heard you talking to Medic or complaining to Spy about your chronic pain, and put two and two together

• Why you were shut up in your room durring mealtime somedays, constsntly seen walking in and out of the med bay, taking numerous amounts of pills in the morning, etc

• Is discreet in his care. It'll be little things, like telling Scout to 'lay off mate' if the Bostonian is hounding you about your lackluster performance that day; even if only as a joke

• If Sniper is lucky enough to bag some game on one of the ceasefire days, he'll approach your bedroom door and offer you a bit of the meat he cooked. Won't be offended if you're not up to it, just puts it in the fridge for later if you change your mind. Makes sure that the rest of the team knows it's for you, too

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• Spy is probably the most elegant of the team when acknowledging your condition

• If he's feeling nice when you approach him about it, he'll nod along to your small explanation and even indulge you if you choose to rant about it for a bit

• If he's not in a good mood, then just wait it out. It's not worth the wrath of an angry Frenchman for bothering him. Will become slightly less angered if you explain you were only there to share some vulnerability, however

• Tells you there's no shame in it. As an older man himself, he's no stranger to the pain that comes with this job

• Might allow you to crash in his smoking room a few times if your room is being overrun by the others. Spy knows that you won't pull any funny business on him, and god help anyone that tries to barge in in search of you (namely Scout)

• Content to sit in comfortable silence as you rest up and sleep away the pain. Spy might be a no-good lying back stabber, but at the end of the day, he's still a gentleman

[2-dsimp]

Would Ossian fall asleep during sex ???😭

NSFW MDNI Gn reader!

Imagine seeing him struggle to stay awake his pretty lashes slowly fluttering shut. As he makes desperate attempts to be conscious enough. To fully enjoy the warmth your leaking hole provides to his swollen aching shaft. The length throbbing, whilst persistently burrowing its way deep inside. Scrapping at your sweet spots with every sloppy pump of his penis. Yandere sniper! Who’s entirely fucked out of his mind, panting and pathetically biting his bottom lip so hard that it bleeds. He needs the pain and the pleasure to keep him afloat. Unable to control his hips humping against your ass. Determined to cum ropes even if he’s in the process of unwillingly falling asleep.

—-/——/—

A/n: yes Ossian would be prone to falling asleep during sex due to his narcoleptic condition from time to time. Which is why he is mainly a pillow princess👀

[zealous-starlight]

Update number 4

Hello and welcome back! A whole bunch has happened but I'm happy to say that I'm ready to hop right back into this thing! There have been quite a few changes over the past few months so let's get right into this.

First off, I finally have a computer! Which means I'll be moving to coding on Renpy! I may have very little experience in coding but I feel like I've made quite a lot of progress into learning how to make what I want to, so while the first few months of coding might be slower, I'll be making quicker progress soon. Not to mention that I now have access to a lot more features!

Also due to this, I will be making updates a monthly thing, since the progress will be quite a bit slower for some time.

Unfortunately I have also managed to lose the outline for the story during the move, as I had written it on paper and placed it in a folder that is missing. I still have a few notes written in my phone and have thankfully memorized a lot of it, but the more organized idea is gone and the plans that came with them. So I'm going to spend some time getting that fixed up first.

As for how the art side of things is going, I think I'll have my first finished model for Spy soon. I've been experimenting with lots of different art styles as of recent and I think I've finally found the one I want to stick to.

Anyways, that should be all for now! If any of you have any questions or concerns feel free to ask! My dms and asks are open for any and all questions!

@aerowolf @schnozzlebozzle

[mehidktbh]

Spiders

Pairing: Mick "Sniper" Mundy x Fem!Reader

Summary: A hot summer day attracts all types of insects to get into the base, out of the hot sun and humid air. Only to be faced with their death by someone not so keen on them.

Warning: Swearing, the killing of a spider? Ngl this is just something I threw together before I slept. 🤷🏼‍♀️

A/N: Wanted to make this before I write my next Simon Riley fic (thanks to your votes). But this also came from today when I found a little Black Widow Spider in my shoe. Still living in Australia I cannot with any insects. (Also it's canon that Sniper has a feat of Spiders, I was there)

How much longer of this humid sun did you have to go through? At first, you thought that the summer would stay when needed, but no. You've got months ahead of you, knowing you're going to wake up in a pile of slickly unpleasant sweat every day. Even worse is the lousy air conditioning in the base, it's been fixed so many times it runs as low as it can. Just as bad as the air circulation too.

So here you are, slouched over in the main room, the leather seat sticks to your bare skin the second you'd get up. You'd be carrying the whole couch along with you. Scout sits next to you, his loud huffing is getting annoying, and one of his arms is slung on the back of the couch. Just touching your head but you're too into heatstroke to realise he's nearly touching your hair.

Sniper sits next to you too, a chair for himself as he spreads fully out. His usual smirk rests on his face as he casually looks over to the two of you. "Gettin' comfortable 'ere?" Scout slowly looks over at him, a scowl on his face. Usually, he'd fling himself across the room, both hands probably strangling the poor bushman but all he can do is roll his eyes.

"How abou' 'cha Y/N?" A weak smile slowly appears on your face, and you flick him a thumbs up. Only he sees right through your smile. But he nods sharply, flicking his attention to the TV. To him, an interesting documentary on animals hibernating. How different animals do it in different seasons and how bears survive through the cold season catches his attention more than you and Scout combined.

But you're too busy looking over at the small old-fashioned fridge. You begin to wonder how cold it really is in there, usually, the beers don't get nearly as cold enough to drink comfortably but still, that's better than nothing. So gradually you start to get up, the leather breaking apart from your skin makes you cringe but it dies out over the TV.

"Bears can be woken easily during a mild spell of weather, but may not have enough energy to survive the rest of the winter. Which is why-" "AHH!"

Your inarticulate and high-pitched scream easily overpowers the TV, even with its high volume on it's enough to echo throughout the whole base. "Holy- What?" Scout's Boston accent quickly appears behind your terrified figure. Sniper also sprints right behind him to reach you from across the room. Looking over your shoulder to see what's got you shaken up and pointing at.

Expecting to see another head or organ which Medic decided to leave unattended in the fridge or on the kitchen counter. But instead, he only spots a little Black Widow Spider sitting unsettled on the counter. Eating away at the bread crumbs left behind from Heavy's sandvich.

"Kill it, Scout, before it kills us!" You frantically order Scout, only he groans in annoyance. "Jesus Y/N! I thought you found someone fucking dead" Your hands shake his shoulders back and forth quickly. "Well, you're about to find my body if you don't-" Before you can say anything he leaves swiftly. Ignoring your pleas as he tiredly walks back to the couch.

Looking over to Sniper you give him the same look in your eyes, a plead. "Pfft, watch an' learn" You watch as Sniper leans over to the counter more. The movement of his arm quickly alerts the pernicious red spider as it begins to move quickly. A yelp nearly leaves Sniper's mouth as he backs away instantly.

"You're scared?" You ask not out of laughter... well maybe. But more because you generally thought he'd be used to Spiders by now. Living in the outback much mean he's dealt with them thousand times before, right? "Nah'm not." His usual down-to-earth and easygoing face now flashes bright red either from the humid air or is now because you mention his (unknowingly) fear of spiders?

But before you can mutter out a single word he reaches over the counter again, his eyes glued to the Spider chilling there. His whole hand flexed and tense as he quickly snatched a tissue from the box. The sudden sound sends the Spider flying in his direction. It sends him flying backwards, his hands coming out in front of him like he was going to fistfight the insect.

You on the other hand you're now snickering softly, the fear you felt before going away as you watch Sniper unravel in front of you. He quickly catches onto your laughing, a glaring cold look replaces his scared expression as he pushes past you. His shoulders square as he swiftly squishes the spider under the tissue, a gross sound following.

"See, m' not scared of spiders..."