#god the bounty hunter x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Killing Time: Prologue

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“Yes, he’s here again,” your voice creaks as your hand shakes. “Please. I called yesterday…” And every other day for months. Almost a full year.

You peer out between the small space that divides curtain from window. The shadow looms, looking up at you. Your phone vibrates as the operator hems and haws on the other end.

“Are you sure it’s him?” She asks. They always doubt you. Report after report, phone call after phone call, and it’s always question, question, question. You sigh.

“Yes,” your voice peeks as you pull back and hide against the wall. “Yes, I know it’s him. He’s texting me.”

You don’t even need to check. It’s the same thing every time. Next, he’ll try to sneak in the front and be knocking at your apartment door.

“Well, ma’am, you say you’ve called before and we’ve sent a cruiser and we’ve filed reports. And this man keeps showing up, so what exactly do you want me to do now? I can’t issue you a safety order over the phone--”

“Excuse me?” You gasp. “Excuse me? Are you serious? I have an order already and much good it does me. I call you and I get accused of being dramatic and questioned. What I want is for someone to protect me.”

“Ma’am, don’t get abusive with me,” she warns. “Have you tried telling him to go away yourself?”

“Wow, wow,” you throw your hand out. “Really? Really? No, I never thought of it,” you say sarcastically, “is there someone else who can take me call? I really don’t feel safe.”

“If it makes you feel better, I can reroute an officer to you. Alright?” She speaks as if you’re a child. You’re too weak to argue anymore.

“Whatever,” you hang up.

You can’t do this anymore. You need to get out of here. Not that you didn’t think of it before but you can’t afford anything else. Your rent control is the only thing keeping you under a roof. You’ve already switched jobs, just to get away from him. There isn’t that much else up there.

You drag yourself through the shadows and sit on the bed. You exist in darkness. You don’t turn on the lights so he can’t see in. You keep the curtains shut. You only leave for work and always take a different exit, never the same route; not always the bus, not always the train.

And friends? What are those? Most of them took his side, said you were throwing around false accusations, and the others accused you of being obsessed. The single coworker you confided in told you to leave town. Wow, well, if you could afford that, you wouldn’t stay in this building with the grinding radiator and rattling fridge.

You look at your phone.

‘I see you.’ The message was sent while you were on the call with emergency services. Several more followed. ‘I just want to talk’; ‘you look so pretty’; ‘please, I love you’.

As you read each text, you can hear the last conversation you had with Jake. He’s a relic of your former friend group, the very reason for your dejection. It’s almost funny how the rest just cut ties but he won’t let go.

It all started with a kiss. A kiss and rejection. New Years Eve and the clock counted down. You didn’t expect him to turn and plant one on you and when you shoved him away, that dreamy look in his eyes turned to fury as you fled. New Year, New you, right?

The new you is scared and paranoid and tired. So, so tired.

You get up and move the chair in front of the door. Just in case. You retreat, keeping your phone close, and grab the extendable baton from the table. You sleep with both, if you can sleep. That night, you won’t.

You settle in on the couch. You don’t use the bedroom. You need an easy escape. You sit back against the cushions and scroll on your phone. It might be hopeless, but you trawl the job board and the apartment boards. You might find a nugget of gold in all the pebbles.

You sign into the job site and see the red dot in the corner. It’s always a marketing promo. ‘Recommending’ a job you don’t qualify for or an invitation for an MLM scheme. It’s a joke. You don’t understand how anyone ever gets a job but everyone seems to have a better one than you.

You tap the inbox to make the red dot go away. You hate it floating in the corner of your vision. Your thumb twitches and hovers over the screen as you read the subject line. Hm.

‘Caretaker Position: Relocation Required’.

Well, you don’t really have the experience for caretaking but the second part sounds intriguing. You hesitate. It’s too good to be true. You’re sure there will be a list of qualifications longer than your resume.

Tap.

You open up the message.

‘Hello,

We’ve reviewed your profile and determined you might be a match for this position.

New Applicants Welcome.

We are seeking an individual to undertake caretaking duties for a property. This role would include the following:

Lawn care

General cleaning and maintenance

Manual labour requiring lifting of up to 60lbs

24/7 tenancy within property (no rent for chosen candidate)

Subsidized relocation

Training on-site

If you are seeking a fresh start and to learn new skills which can take you into future roles in a custodial or caretaking capacity, this is the job for you. To apply, please submit brief profile and resume for consideration.

Applicants are subject to a background check.’

You bite down on the inside of your lip. It sounds interesting but you’re not sure you’re a good fit. It’s so general, too. Would you need to know how to deal with electrical issues? Your apartment sure has taught you a lot about dealing with broken utilities, but your formal training is lacking.

And it’s a big thing. You want to get out of here but it’s still daunting in comparison to your current predicament.

You tense as you hear footsteps in the hall. You brace yourself and lower the phone, staring at the door. The thumping on the other side makes you flinch. Your heart races.

“Baby, I know you’re awake. Please. I just wanna talk.” He keeps tapping. “If you just talked to me, we could figure this out.”

You shudder and look at your phone again. You stare at the big blue button; ‘Apply Now’.

“I forgive you. For lying about me. Everyone knows you were just upset. I’ll tell them all it was just a misunderstanding…” he begs as the door shakes in the frame, the chair knocking against the handle. All that stands between you and him are those hinges and that flimsy piece of furniture.

You press down on the button. It can’t get worse than this.

[navybrat817]

For v day prompts, I keep coming back to God the bounty hunter taking his girlfriend to a nice restaurant and she gets food poisoning. Because I have food poisoning from my works cafeteria and I wish I was dead. I also started my period today

I hope you feel better, lovely!

Wired Differently

Pairing: God the Bounty Hunter x Female Reader

Summary: God just wanted to take you out for a nice dinner.

Word Count: Over 410

Warnings: Established relationship, mention of food poisoning, threat of violence (not against the reader), God the Bounty Hunter (he's a warning and a little awkward, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

God knew how to handle many things, but you being sick wasn't one of them. Seeing you curled up and in pain made him restless. Unsure. It was something he couldn’t control, and he didn’t believe he had a comforting bone in his body to make you feel any better. The urge to kill came forward because that was something he had a degree of control over, but he couldn't exactly scratch that itch since you didn't want him to leave. He didn't want to leave your side either. Not while you were in pain that he couldn’t take away.

“Our romantic dinner should’ve been different,” he muttered, placing the cool washcloth on your warm forehead. “Not this.”

Dinner was something couples did for dates and the restaurant was nice. He checked. But, no, when he tried to give you a sense of normalcy you got food poisoning. The only reason he didn’t get sick was because he ordered something completely different.

“I know,” you tried to smile, but you grimaced from what was likely another wave of pain before you curled back up again in the fetal position. “Not your fault.”

God blinked once. Twice. “I can kill him,” he offered.

He wondered if anyone would miss the cook if he took him out. Making a body disappear was like second nature to him. He could make it hurt, too.

That was romantic, right?

He saw from the twitch in your lips that wanted to laugh. It would've sounded crazy or downright scary to anyone else, but not you. He was just wired differently and you understood that. It was one of the reasons why he loved you. Love wasn’t something he gave easily or freely, but you more than earned it.

“No killing. Not today.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “So, what do I do?” he asked. He gave you blankets, a bucket and cloth in case you got sick, water, and a washcloth for your head. What was he missing?

Your smile was borderline sheepish when you asked, “Can you just hold me for a second?”

He wordlessly stretched out beside you and held you as gently as he was capable of. In the back of his mind he knew holding you wouldn’t take the pain away, but it would bring you comfort. He’d hold you all night if he could give you that. He still wanted to kill the cook, but that would come later.

Tonight, and every night, you were his priority.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[holylulusworld]

Competition 2.0

Summary: You and Lloyd are in a competition for life.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader; God, the bounty hunter x fem!Reader (not really)

Warnings: concurrence, mentions of erectile dysfunction, language, Lloyd being Lloyd, implied subish Lloyd, implied bi-sexual Lloyd, kinda knifeplay (not really)

Catch up here: Competition

“Aw, sugar cake,“ Lloyd grins as you try to ignore you agreed to join forces against the new player calling himself God, the bounty hunter. “How about we start the party now and work harder later.”

You roll your eyes. “I agreed to sit in the same car with you. If you keep on pushing boundaries, it’s totally justified if I stab your face.” You smile darkly at Lloyd. “What will it be, sugar cake.”

“You’re a red-blooded woman,” he hums and unashamedly runs his hand over his crotch. Lloyd is not subtle. Not at all. “I like me a feisty pussy to pound.”

“I hope that motherfucker is worth spending time with you. If not, I’ll kill you for wasting my time and for being annoying.”

“I killed people for less,” Lloyd grins. He scoots a little closer to brush his hand over your knee. “I got you a limousine, sunshine. If the gesture doesn’t scream—” He grunts the second you grab his hand and twist it.

“If,” you bend his thumb, making him wince, “you ever touch me without my allowance again, I’ll castrate you.”

“But you want me to touch you,” he nods to himself. “I only need to wait for you to whimper my name. I know you are addicted to Lloyd Hansen.”

“You mean disgusted by you,” you push his hand away. “I don’t do limp dicks.” You huff. “Now focus on the mission. I want my witness back, and you want to settle things with that guy calling himself God.”

“God the bounty hunter,” Lloyd corrects. “I will carve his heart out for fucking my mission over. That sexy thief will feel the wrath of Lloyd Hansen. No one steals my kill and gets away with it.”

“Sexy?” You cock your head. “Ah, I see.” Nodding knowingly, you smirk. “The girl didn’t get you hard because you prefer them more…masculine.”

“If so?” He cocks his head and mirrors your smirk. “A nice body is a nice body.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Even though, I prefer your body today.”

“Hmm…” you eye Lloyd warily. “If you are a good boy, I’ll let you shoot him first.” Your eyes round watching Lloyd shift in his seat. He swallows thickly and rubs his hand over his crotch. “Do you like being a good boy?”

“What?” He hiccups. “No! I’m in control. Always! No one calls me their good boy.”

“No one ever did,” you scoot closer to run your fingertips over his thigh. He shudders and purrs your name. “Say, Lloyd. Do you want to be my good boy?”

His eyes are half-lidded, and his mouth falls open. He struggles to answer, too lost in the feeling of your featherlight touch. “I…I…”

“If you want to be my good boy, you’ll leave God and the witness to me. Just provide backup and look pretty.”

“You think I look pretty?” He murmurs, close to creaming his pants. “I knew it…”

You snort and move away. “Christ, Hansen. You are so easy to manipulate. One pretty face, the right words and you forget about the mission. No wonder that new player snatched my witness out of your hands.”

“He didn’t!” Lloyd grunts. He crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. “I wasn’t distracted at all. I played along to steal your knife.”

Lloyd proudly twirls your favorite knife between his fingers. “You fucker! Give it back!”

“You didn’t think it’s so easy to manipulate Lloyd Hansen, didn’t you?” He laughs now. “Aw, baby cakes. You’ll have to do a lot more to distract me. If you sit in my lap and ride the life out of me, maybe then I’d be distracted.”

“Just tell this to yourself.”

Lloyd had to take the lead. He stormed into the building before you got the chance to analyze the situation. He kicked the door open and yelled orders at his men while aimlessly shooting anyone crossing his path.

“Hello sunshine,” he snickers and stalks toward the new player. “Did you think I’d forget about you?”

“What do you want?” The man replies. Unimpressed by Lloyd, his men, and their guns aimed at him, he sips his coffee and furrows his brows. “The man is gone.”

“Where is my witness?” You shove Lloyd out of your way. “Whatever you have to settle with that idiot,” you jerk your head toward Lloyd, “has nothing to do with my witness. Where is he?”

“Gone,” God’s eyes flit toward you. He looks you up and down and takes another sip of his coffee. “He won’t come back. This was my mission.”

“No it was mine,” Lloyd argues.

“It was mine,” you huff. “Can you stop the pissing contest for a moment, Hansen?” You look at God. “Where did you bring him? I need his location right now.”

“He’s gone,” he repeats.

You sigh, deeply and exasperated. “Listen, I got that he’s gone. I just need to know, where to, and if he’s still alive. I’ll pay you for your information.”

“Cupcake, you won’t pay that fucker for the information. I’ll break his pretty face for you, and you can pay me back with something sweeter than money,” Lloyd flashes you a cocky grin.

“I told you to stop this shit,” you are just done with Lloyd’s antics. “So, what will it be, Mr. God.”

“God, the bounty hunter,” he corrects. “Not mister or God.”

“He likes his name,” your mustache-wearing nemesis snickers.

“Fine,” you secure your gun. “What will it be, God, the bounty hunter? Money, diamonds, or a bullet from Mr. Hansen’s gun?”

“Oh!” Lloyd cocks a brow. “You’ll leave the kill to me?”

“You should get a room,” God, the bounty hunter says. “I already got paid. I do not break my contracts.”

“Listen you fucker,” you get your knife out to throw it at God. He not only dodges your attack but also catches your knife. God sniffs at the knife before licking over the blade. “Fuck…” You lick your lips. That was the sexiest thing you’ve seen in a while.

Your pussy clenches around nothing when he gets up to hand you the knife over. “He’s gone, miss. There is no coming back for him.”

You take the knife, holding God’s gaze. “You killed him.”

“That was the order. My client was very strict about it. They wanted it to happen in a certain way too,” he drops his eyes to the gun in your thigh holster. “A Colt M1911A1, nice. Very reliable.”

“I like reliable,” you reply. “Nothing better than a reliable partner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me now?” Lloyd throws a tantrum. “First that bastard steals my kill and now you are flirting with him. Did you forget that he killed your witness?”

“Hey, sometimes you win,” you roam God’s body with your eyes, “sometimes you lose.” You dip your head to glance at Lloyd. “And sometimes you get the chance to turn a loss into a double win…”

Tags in reblog.

[thezombieprostitute]

Pen Pals

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty​ this is my second entry for the Bingo card combining “penpals” and “bounty hunter AU”. Reader is implied to be female (”spinster”) but no other descriptors. Possible Triggers/Warnings: mentions of stalking? Please let me know if I missed any.

Hello Hunter,

Hope you’re doing well and that your job isn’t running you ragged. How is that push for higher quality office coffee going? The library has been talking about joining up with a local coffee shop but, in looking over the paperwork, I really think it’s a no-go. Maybe we can do smaller events for the Summer Reading programs or something for the college kids that come home during Summer/Winter breaks. 

Thank you,

Y/N

Hello Y/N,

Once again I’m afraid I’ll have to switch up to sending you postcards. My work is having me do a lot of travel so I will be unable to receive your letters from the PO Box. But I do appreciate having someone to share my adventures with. The postcards are likely to be infrequent but I will write you a full letter when I’m back home and am able to receive your letters again.

Best,

Hunter

True to their word, Hunter sent you postcards and other notes from around the globe. You weren’t sure what he did for work, just that they told you “it’s a lot of waiting for something, then running around like mad when it happens.” Part of you enjoyed the postcard breaks, it gave you time to build up more stories to put into your letters. Goodness knows you don’t have a very interesting life. Just a boring spinster librarian at a small town library.

Pretty much the most exciting thing you’ve ever done was join up with the pen pal program, just looking for something to look forward to. Many other pen pals had come and gone, losing interest in the program entirely, but Hunter kept at it with you. For five years now, you’d been sharing stories, complaints, hopes and tastes. You appreciated the distance, it helped you feel safer to share a lot of these things. And the postcards made you feel a bit of a thrill, you knew someone who had gone to all of these places that you knew you’d never be able to visit. 

Seemingly too soon you received a letter from Hunter indicating he was home and looking forward to reading your letters again. You fretted for days because there was simply nothing to write about. Nothing interesting, no new people, no new programs. It was same-old-same-old. You got so caught up in having nothing to write about that it was almost a month before you finally thought about sending something. 

Hello Hunter,

I’m so sorry for the delay in getting back to you. I wish I could say it’s because I was caught up in work or something but the fact is, there’s simply nothing to write about. I’m so sorry but, I fear I’m simply getting to that part of life where nothing interesting ever happens. I may need to space out my letters more, possibly even stop writing at all for a while. There’s just nothing worth writing about going on here. 

Apologies,

Y/N

It’s been almost three weeks since you wrote to Hunter. You feared that you’d never hear from them again and were starting to mourn the loss of the one exciting thing in your life. You missed the postcards, the letters, the hints at a world outside of your small town. It’s not that you don’t like your life. It’s quiet, yes, but you live with dignity and kindness and that’s what matters. In another world you’d very much be a Hobbit, but with books instead of food; helping educate others, instead of cooking for them or making them tea. It’s not a bad life. 

So you allow yourself to mourn by treating yourself to some breakfast at the diner. It’s nice to have someone else make the food and coffee as you allow yourself to feel sad. 

As you sit in the booth, lost in thoughts, you hear someone cough. You look to the source of the noise and see a tall stranger with short, dark hair, a stubble covered chin and dark blue eyes that seem to carry a permanent sadness to them. 

“Can I help you,” you ask. You just can’t help it, it’s almost a reflex to ask whenever someone looks at you.

“You do help me, Y/N. You help me a lot more than you know.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’m Hunter. May I sit with you?”

Your jaw drops and you try to say something, anything, but all you can think to do is gesture to the seat across from you. 

As he sits, he tells you, “I know you can’t verify it’s me just from me being a stranger who knows your name. So let me show you.” He pulls a binder out of his bag and opens it to you. It’s full of all of the letters you ever wrote to him. 

“I…I don’t…what’s going on,” you stammer.

“You said you were thinking of not writing again because you felt there was nothing to write about. I can’t have that,” he replied. His sad eyes growing more intense as he spoke. “I need this, need your letters, need your contact. My work is dangerous. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. Writing to you calms me down, reading your letters helps me catch my breath. Please, don’t stop writing to me, Y/N.”

As you stared into his eyes you saw them brimming with sincerity. He was speaking to you in earnest and, while his intensity was almost overwhelming, you found yourself appreciating it. Trusting him. 

“You couldn’t have just written this,” you asked with a chuckle. 

“No,” he asserted. “I need you to know how important this is to me. I’m a bounty hunter who often sees the worst the world has to offer. I’m constantly on edge with no end in sight. You are the calm, quiet corner of my world that provides the only sort of stability I have.”

“Two things,” you quip. “One, you do realize how…scary this all sounds? Like a stalker/yandere kind of thing? And two, your name is Hunter and you’re a bounty hunter? This just adds to the potential scariness of the first thing, like you’ve been using a fake name with me or something.”

He blinks a few times. Clearly he wasn’t expecting this kind of response. He looks away for a bit and quietly says, “huh. I guess I didn’t think this through.”

The waitress brings out your breakfast at this point, looks at Hunter and asks, “Ooo! Y/N! Who’s your friend here?” You bite back a “not now” response, knowing that no matter what you say it’ll be all the gossip in town for the next month at least. So you reply with a simple truth, “he’s a friend of mine from out of town who’s just passing through.” You turn to Hunter and say, “order whatever you want for breakfast, I’ll cover it.”

“No, thank you,” he shakes his head. “I don’t eat before 8 AM.” The waitress looks a bit confused, but is clearly happy to have the start of some gossip for her later customers. She nods and walks away with a quiet, “enjoy your meal, Y/N.”

You nibble at your food as you each contemplate what to say next. 

“Let me start again,” he said slowly, not looking directly at you. “I think I panicked because I don’t want to lose this connection, this life line.” You nod in understanding as you take another bite. “You are right, that my name isn’t Hunter. It’s actually a name I chose based on my moniker because my real name is kept secret for good reason. I joined up with the pen pal program to get some information on one of my targets and that’s how you and I started writing. You weren’t the target,” he assured when he saw the surprise on your face. “Nor was it anyone you knew. It was completely by accident. But, I found myself really enjoying the peacefulness of your letters. The simple joys of trying a new recipe, or a new kid joining the story group, and just…It helped me slow down when all I knew was how to rush.”

“I was scared to write,” you confessed. “I know my life isn’t boring to so many people. I like it, but I know it’s not for everyone. So I just…I think I just stopped thinking of things to write because I got the feeling I was repeating myself and you’d get tired of hearing from me.” He turns sharply to look at you and you continue, “you wouldn’t be the first.”

“Give me their names and I’ll hunt them down for you.” You chuckle at that, getting the sense that he’s being completely serious.

“There’s no need for that,” you promise. “I’ve just never had a friendship last so long and I think it scared me. I’m sorry you had to feel the brunt of that, I honestly didn’t think you’d care. But now I know better.” You reach out a hand towards his, “is it okay if I hold your hand?” He nods and you gently clasp his hand and smile. “I promise, I will continue to write. I’m genuinely sorry that I scared you.”

Hunter nods and packs up the binder of letters. He moves to leave but you stop him, “I have to know either your name or your moniker that created the name that I know.” He froze for a second before looking you in the eyes and telling you, “God the Bounty Hunter.” You raise an eyebrow and he continues, “it’s because every time I showed up the target would say something along the lines of, ‘oh god it’s the bounty hunter’. Eventually it just got shortened and caught on.”

“Well,” you smiled, “that’s certainly not what I expected. But, I promise not to make fun of you for it.” He smiled at that and headed out.

Hi Hunter,

So I’ve been trying my hand at growing plants again, I’ll make sure to keep you updated on that but please don’t hold your breath. I’m horrible at growing plants, even with all the resources the library has to offer! Though it might be fun to create a seed library. I’ll have to look into that.

I want to thank you, again, for your visit. I’ve actually found it much easier to try some new things. New recipes, new shows, new teas. Nothing big, of course, I don’t need much. I think it’s because I have someone who’s excited to hear about these things. Doing things for me is nice, but it’s so much more when you have someone who wants to hear about them as well. Thank you for being such a good friend.

Thank you,

Y/N

[when-all-the-world-is-asleep]

Aspen, these two were a very fun pair together and as dark as it was... I can't deny, I'd be willing to be their good girl.

Unholy Errand

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x female!Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale Word Count: 4k Summary: You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut: non-consent and dubious consent, cuckolding, bondage, knife play, dacryphilia, oral (m and f receiving), cumplay, spitting, facial/marking, groping, spanking, clothed males naked female, coarse language; mild but irreverent use of religious terminology/themes (we’ve got a bounty hunter who refers to himself as God – we’re not committing hard to the bit, but we are using the bit); use of pet names + no y/n; kidnapping

Notes: I was happily working on some other lovely things last weekend, and then Sunday afternoon, totally unprovoked, a rogue muse crept up and whispered, "Lloyd and God..." and my brain broke, and I told @navybrat817 and she immediately enabled/encouraged the sprouting of this fic (and helped identify exactly who these two would be after). I thought this might be fifteen hundred words... and then it hit 2k, and then 3k, and they still weren't done with poor Reader, so...

Additional Notes: First time writing Lloyd, God, or Ransom in any capacity. This is also straight up the filthiest thing I've gone all in on. Is it the filthiest thing that exists on the internet? Of course not, but my filthiest and READ THE TAGS. This is NOT your standard Aspen fic. But was this a bit of a riot to write? Yep. It had a chokehold on me all week, and I stayed up far too late to finish it off tonight because... if I didn't, life would've prevented me finishing for a couple more days, and I've been too eager to push this out.

The clearing of his throat is what pulls your attention. You look up from your desk, taking in long legs in impossibly tight white slacks showing too much ankle, and a torso clad in a black turtleneck and blazer. A thick mustache lives above his smirk. He was too silent entering the offices, and he knows it, seems to revel in unsettling you. “Lloyd Hansen, the six o’clock appointment.”

“Yes, if you’ll follow me right this way,” you proffer politely, and move smoothly out of your chair, leading him to the door of your boss’s office. You give a short knock and open the door, announcing, “Lloyd Hansen, sir,” as you briefly step inside, holding the door open for the man.

He’s still smirking as he passes by, and then you sweep back out, but not before hearing Lloyd whistle and say, “Fancy shit you got yourself in this office, Ran,” as you close the door on them.

You sigh as you sit back down at your desk. Lloyd is your boss’s last meeting of the night, and he had seemed more than perturbed when he said to go ahead and accept the last-minute request Lloyd had made for the appointment. While this is the meeting of the day, Mr. Drysdale had made it clear he was staying late, which means you are also staying late, so you pull out the file of menus you keep in your desk and begin mulling over where to order dinner from tonight.

There’s a succession of loud thuds on the other side of the wall, and you only hesitate for a second before rushing into the office.

You stop dead, a small cry escaping your lips as you watch Lloyd wrestling Ransom to the ground.

“You may be sorry you disturbed us, sweetie, but since you’re here, be a good girl and close and lock that door so we don’t get interrupted by anyone else.”

You hesitate, staring in horror at the display before you: books knocked off the shelves, everything that’s usually so immaculately placed askew on the desk, a lamp overturned, Ransom Drysdale on the floor of his office with Lloyd Hansen’s knee pressed into his back and both arms pulled taught behind him while Lloyd binds his wrists together with the Hermes ascot scarf ripped from Ransom’s own neck.

Lloyd clucks his tongue. “Lock the door or I start cutting his fingers off. Barnes and Rogers only said they want your boss alive; they didn’t say how much of him still needs to be intact.”

“Do it,” Ransom grunts, turning his head away from you, clearly embarrassed at his predicament.

You turn and slowly close the door. You know there are still people working at Blood Like Wine tonight, and while it’s not likely that any of them will be passing through this wing after normal business hours, it’s probably safer that they stay out than accidentally stumble into whatever this dangerous mess is evolving into. You wished you had suppressed your own urge to investigate.

When you turn back around, Lloyd is unbuckling his belt as he continues to kneel against Ransoms back. He pulls it out, uses it to gag Ransom, giving it an additional tug after already pulling it tightly, and fastens it off.

“There, that’s just about perfect.”

“What are-?” You venture to ask, but he abruptly cuts you off.

“No one asked you to talk, sweetie, now come away from that door.”

You only take two reluctant steps towards them when there’s a scraping of wood that draws everyone’s attention to the opposite side of the room.

A piece of the floor is slowly being lifted from below, pushed out of the way, and then another man pops up from out of the floor. He hefts himself out of the hole in the floor and then drops a duffel bag on the floor, the heavy sound of muffled metal hinting at the equipment he’s brought with him.

“Oh, good, you’ve already done some of my work for me,” the tall, dark-haired man appraises the situation he’s just stepped into.

“Who the fuck are you, and where’d you come from?”

“Clearly you watched me ascend from a trapdoor in the floor.” He stalks over to stand in front of the large mahogany desk and sits back on the edge. “You didn’t think Harlan Thrombey - noted mystery author - wouldn’t have a publishing house full of trapdoors and secret passageways?”

“Didn’t need to, walked right in the front door. Still waiting to find out who you are.”

“God the Bounty Hunter.”

“Ooh,” Lloyd cocks his head, and another one of his smirks returns, “I can’t say I hate the audacity. Very bold. But there are a lot of gods and only one Lloyd Hansen.

“Now we’re clearly both here because of the hit put out for this prick, but since there are two of them and two of us, why don’t you make yourself useful, God, and tie up this little Margaret while I get Ransom nice and comfortable here.”

“With pleasure,” God says, and beckons you over to him.

The way he fixes you with his gaze is so intense you can’t to resist his silent command. He stands when you’re just a foot or two away, puts a ringer under your chin to tilt your head up, and looks down into your face. You don’t dare look away, nor do you want to, for some reason.

After another moment, he lets your chin drop, and God begins to circle you, looking you up and down. You hold very still. “You don’t need to be tied up, do you? You like to behave, to be praised.”

Lloyd lets out a loud, longsuffering sigh. “Fine, it can be more fun when they’re tied up, but I’m not picky as long as I get what I want.” Then his tone changes, directing his next words at you. “Understand, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Good.” With that, Lloyd pushes his knee roughly into Ransom’s back, drawing a painful groan from the bound man, before standing and hauling Ransom up with him. He shoves Ransom down to sit on the couch that faces the desk in the small entertaining area of Ransom’s office. “Now Relax, let me pour myself a drink. No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves for a few minutes, for old time’s sake.”

While Lloyd pours some bourbon, God steps right up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. He moves your hair off your shoulder, and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You be very good, and I’ll make you my angel.” You can’t help but shiver - it’s the heat of his breath at your neck and the promised threat - and you know he notices your reaction, because there’s a soft, dark chuckle before he presses a hot kiss to the base of your neck. His hand comes around to your front, toying with the edge of your open collar, and then he lightly draws his index finger along your clavicle and then up the other side of your neck. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you gasp when his other hand quickly pushes a small piece of metal right below your ear.

“And what’s that?” Lloyd asks, not missing the tagging.

“A little incentive for obedience,” God answers. “Fifty-thousand volts when fully unleashed.”

There’s a non-electrically generated jolt in your stomach, but it’s not pure fear, it’s tinged with a little adrenaline as well.

“Huh. To each his own. Now down to business, Ran.”

God steps back and then leans on the edge of the desk again. He pulls you to stand between his legs, your back up against his chest, and his hands settle on your shoulders. Standing against him like this has your hips aligned with his, and you have no doubt it’s setting the stage for his intentions, even if it seems harmless enough now. It mimics a familiarity between partners that is both soothing and unsettling.

Across the room, Lloyd takes a seat on the other side of the couch from Ransom, drink in one hand, and draping his arm casually along the back of the couch. “It was quite a convenient circumstance that even had me nearby to make this social call Ransom. Couldn’t be happier that I’d get to drop in on you for something like this. Ransom and I both went to Yale, you know,” he tosses this part across the room to you and God. “Even ended up in the same fraternity. But he was a senior, I was a freshman. Didn’t spare me the time of day except for the hazing, right?”

His focus shifts back to Ransom, who only gives Lloyd a cold stare, unmoving, clearly not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction of any emotional reactions.

God’s hands shift from your shoulders and begin to stroke up and down your arms.

“Why am I boring us all with the backstory though? Old college buddies is pretty typical. You know what’s not typical? Barnes and Rogers putting a bounty out for someone. They’ve got their own guys, and you’re not hard to find.”

The hands move from your arms to your waist, moving up and down your ribs, and still Lloyd keeps talking.

“So, either you’re too important and they wanted the closest person available to pick you up and make a rush delivery to their door, or you’re not important enough for them to want to dispatch any of their own men to deal with you. Outsourcing because you’re still an inconvenience to them, and they can’t let you go unpunished.

Strong hands on your hips.

“Maybe you can prove to be useful tonight, sweetie. How long have you worked for Ranny here?”

You don’t know if you should be surprised that he’s turned his attention to you for questioning, but you do your best to keep your mind focused as you answer him. “I’ve worked for Mr. Drysdale for – oh –” God starts rubbing circles over your hipbones, applying more pressure and pushing you back against a very prominent erection “– a little over seven months.”

“Mr. Drysdale, eh?” Lloyd’s perennial smirk grows, and he tilts his head, tsking again. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not assisting him after hours, I told you we were in the same frat, so I know what this bastard gets up to.”

Your mouth drops open a little, and Lloyd looks from you to Ransom, whose cold stare has turned into an unmistakable glare.

“Oho! So, she does only assist you professionally?” Lloyd laughs, seemingly out of genuine amusement. “You really are useless, Ranny.”

God is still relentless in touching you, exploring over and even under the clothing, one of his hands sliding down your leg to slip under your skirt to skim up your thigh, and the other stroking just under your breasts, calculated touches to evoke responses but not yet to take or give any more satisfaction.

Both strangers are demanding your attention, and you’re almost evenly divided between Lloyd’s words and God’s actions.

“She probably would’ve slept with you the first two weeks on the job, but now she’s gotta know you’re an insufferable prick.”

Would you have? You don’t think either statement is true. You were never drawn in by Ransom, and since working for him, you’ve only been focused on doing your job well, getting a good paycheck, and going home. Ransom wasn’t particularly demanding compared to other executives, and so you had only wanted him to continue to respect and rely on your assistance so he’d find you indispensable and raise your salary regularly.

God finally speaks again. “We should let the man see what he’ll never have.”

Lloyd sits back in the chair. “I’m not opposed.”

Your face burned. There was no question what he meant, and you did not want Ransom to see you on display, but Lloyd is intimidating and God is intoxicating, so you can do no more than comply as God unzips your skirt and pushes it to the floor.

Next he turns you around and works on the buttons of your shirt, in no hurry, putting your ass on display for Lloyd and Ransom while torturing you with more of the heated, intense eye contact that makes you nearly forget to breathe.

You’re only warned that Lloyd’s behind you when God looks over your shoulder, and you turn your head, but before you can fully face him, his hand has come down against your ass with enough force that you fall against God’s chest. He spanks you again, harder, and you whimper in God’s arms, your head falling against his shoulder with the sting and shock and humiliation.

Then, in another quick turn of events, Lloyd grasps the waistband of your panties with one hand, and you briefly feel the chill of metal against your skin as he slips a knife under the fabric and then slashes them away with two strokes and throws the fabric on the desk.

“Move, God, I want her up on the desk.”

God stands again, and he pulls your shirt off your shoulders as he moves away.

Lloyd could unclasp your bra, but of course Lloyd uses the knife to slice through the band.

“Drop it,” he instructs.

With a deep, steadying breath, you do as he says.

“Turn and sit up on the desk for us.”

You’ve taken hundreds of orders from this office, completing tasks you enjoyed and hated, this can be just another of those.

“Open those thighs for us all to see, sweetie.”

You close your eyes. You know what they will see, and the shame burns in your stomach.

Lloyd taps the flat part of his knife just above your knee. “Now.”

You bite your lip and look at the ground as you spread your legs. Lloyd presses the edge of the knife to the flesh of your inner thigh, forcing you to spread even wider if you don’t want him to cut into you.

Lloyd brings his knife to your chin to tilt your face up to look at him as he traces your wet folds with two fingers. The smirk is gone, replaced by a wicked grin. “Nice and slick for us.”

“God’s handiwork,” the other man is quick to note.

“Sure. A nice little sacrificial offering. Now, Ransom, since you’ve never had a taste, seems a shame not to give you a sample,” Lloyd says.

Ransom shifts and begins to stand, but Lloyd turns abruptly and points at him with the knife. “Stay there, you dumb fuck.”

Ransom sits back again.

“And don’t you dare look away.” He looks to God. “Shoot him if he does.”

God pulls a gun from behind his back that he must have had tucked into his waistband. You watch as he moves to the other side of the room and stands behind Ransom. He plants his gun at the base of Ransom’s skull, then locks eyes with you again. It’s clear he doesn’t want take his eyes off you if he’s going to have to ensure Ransom doesn’t either. Something in your chest stirs under his rapt attention.

Lloyd demands your attention again as he grips your hips and pulls you to the edge of the mahogany desk. He slaps your pussy, drawing a sharp cry from you, then drops down to delve between your thighs. He gives your clit a vicious nip, and you bit back another yelp. His tongue plunders into your cunt, licking and sucking, and your hands are moving to grasp his skull to anchor yourself, but he’s already pulling away. As he stands, he yanks you off the desk, and strides across the room, dragging you with him.

He spits directly in Ransom’s face – a combination of Lloyd’s saliva and your slick that he’s not able to do anything but let drip down his face. Your mouth is agape, truly shocked. Ransom’s entire body radiates rage and embarrassment.

“That’s all you’ll be getting from her, Drysdale.”

Then Lloyd’s shoves you to your knees, putting you on display in profile to the other men. He undoes the zipper of his pants, releasing his cock, no underwear to fuss about.

“Open up,” he demands, and you comply, unwilling to provoke this demon who clearly doesn’t play by any rules.

He slips the angry red tip of his cock into your mouth. “Be good,” he warns. You give a small nod, closing your mouth around him. With one hand, he grips your head and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. You and gag, and your eyes close as you try to focus very hard on breathing through your nose. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust, and the tears spill quickly down your face.

“Eyes on me,” he grunts, and you force them open and look up at him, knowing what he wants to see. He groans in approval. “You are a pretty little trinket, prettier when you cry.”

Then he abruptly pulls you off his dick and grips you by the chin and turns your head for Ransom and God. “Fucking look at her, swollen lips, gasping for breath, desperate.”

Just as quickly he slots his dick back in your mouth, this time gripping your head with both hands and he fucks your face with abandon. Fast. Hard. Your whimpers turn into sobs, and your hands come up to brace and grasp desperately at his thighs. “You can still take it,” Lloyd growls, undeterred, and you’re powerless to stop him. The tears are not just running but flooding down your cheeks. It’s too much now, and you can’t get enough air, and vision is going black. Finally he throws you off and away from him, and turns to aim his cock at Ransom, shooting his load over his face and shoulders, letting out a hiss that turns into a hum.

You’re hunched over and you wretch – blessedly only once – bracing your hands on the floor, and you gulp and heave, lungs fraught for the necessary oxygen.

Lloyd is talking again. The voice registers, but not the words.

And there are warm hands on you again. One rubbing small circles at the base of your spine, the other pushing your hair out of your face and coaxing you to look up at him.

With enough soothing, God has you breathing evenly again, and you’re still crying a little, but he helps you up onto the couch and sits next to you, very close, and he tucks a hand under your chin and lifts your face up, then he licks your left cheek, then the right, lapping up the tears. You hiccup, not sure how to react. Then he merely strokes your cheek, and the fingers trail down your neck, down your chest, down, down…

“Boring,” Lloyd announces.

You look up at him for a moment, but then God’s questing fingers reach the point he really wants to concentrate his might on, plunging into your wet cunt, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I’m eager to be done here,” Lloyd continues while God continues pumping his digits in and out of you. “We don’t need any more dumbasses showing up for this fool.”

“Agreed,” God says, casually as if he’s not beginning to pull you apart softly but surely. “You take him. I’ll keep her. There’s room for her in the trunk next to the cargo.”

“Fine, I wasn’t fussed about the goods anyway, I only took this job for the satisfaction of humiliating Drysdale, and that’s already exceeded my expectations. I’m sure Barnes and Rogers will give you enough for the recovered inventory even without him, and I’ll do you a solid and not mention the little side piece you’ll be keeping for yourself.”

God moves you off the couch, coaxing you to lean over the coffee table and kneels behind you. “Good.”

You moan as God slowly pushes his hard length inside your cunt.

There’s a thud next to you, and you turn to see a pile of Ransom hit the floor a few feet away.

“I assume you’ve got a way to move this man through down in that passage?” Lloyd asks, dragging the unconscious figure across the floor by his feet.

“Mhmm,” he responds, more intent on the movement of his hips against yours, slowly pistonning in and out of your tight heat.

“Good. This was fun enough, but let’s not do this again.”

God pulls your head up roughly to look at Lloyd just as he’s about to drop into the floor. “Say goodbye to Lloyd, Angel.”

You’re barely able to make the, “Bye,” tumble out of your lips, you’re so full of this man behind you, and his sudden roughness taking you by surprise.

Lloyd chuckles, then disappears.

God lets you drop back down, leaning on your elbows.

“I thought he’d never stop talking,” God murmurs.

It’s bitter, but a laugh actually falls from your lips, but you still can’t form words.

“There’s other things I’d rather do with you around than talk.”

He adjusts his angle from behind you. It allows him to plunge more of his cock into your slick channel, and you groan, but then after only a few thrusts, he pauses, balls deep inside you.

“You took what he gave you, but I think you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

You’re breathless. You can’t speak. You don’t want to speak?

He places his right hand, palm flat, at the base of your spine and presses it slowly up your back, his middle finger trailing up the ridge of your vertebrae, and you can feel the metal of his ring draw a line along your skin.

“You were very good.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you whimper.

“I said I would make you mine if you were good.”

Another rocking. He moves his hand from the nape of your neck around to grip it fully, and he pulls you back up against his chest, and you’re gasping for air for a moment, both hands coming up to clutch at his arm.

He lowers his voice and delivers his next words right into your ear. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

Your pussy clenches around him, and he presses a kiss against your throat, and you feel the smile of his lips against your skin.

His other hand moves down across your hip, to your vee, and his deft fingers stroke your throbbing clit. He doesn’t move his cock, but he does move those fingers expertly, drawing tight little circles that wind you up to the top until you’re flung off the edge and into pure pleasure.

Coming down from your first orgasm, you sink against him. As your breathing returns to normal, the hand on your neck remains like an anchor, but his other hand moves up to tilt your chin to the side and up to meet his lips. The kiss claims you, and you part your lips for him, just as you’ve parted your legs for him – willingly.

“That was one, but I want a trinity to secure your devotion here tonight. I’m going to fuck you dumb, dress you, and then you’re going to walk out of here like a sweet little angel and get in my car. Then I’ll let you choose. You can sit up front and keep my cock warm or you can crawl in the back of the trunk. Your choice.”

How are we?

I'm ruined.

Restore my health with your lovely reblogs, commentary, comments...

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[nickfowlerrr]

good for you

pairing: mainly - august walker x curvy!reader

warnings: 21+ ONLY. this is...smut. and kink. and smut smut smut. no d/s dynamics but some power play aspects. august gets called sir. dirty talk. some degradation. reader and august are undercover. please note i am leaving stuff out! warnings are not exhaustive, in part because i don't know how to tag them and also i know i'm forgetting stuff lol.

other characters mentioned, even just briefly: nick fowler, bucky barnes, steve rogers, lloyd hansen, walter marshall, god the bounty hunter.

words: about 4.4k

ronearoundblindly asked: Can you write August and 49. Out of necessity?!

notes: this prompt completely got away from me. i think i barely touched it for like a second. i really don't know what happened lol. but thank you very much for submitting an ask, i appreciate it! <3

thank you in advance to anyone who reads this madness, i hope you, at the very least, find it somewhat enjoyable. please let me know your thoughts!

“Your friend is staring,” you speak quietly as you glance over to the target idling by the entrance of the hallway. He was on his way out when he noticed August slip down the corridor, his suspicions rising instantly.

You weren’t supposed to be seen, you weren’t supposed to be there at all, but since Mr. Paranoid forced August to ditch the very expensive phone you’d made and chipped just for him, you needed to get something on him again to be able to maintain communication, to keep track of him, and though you wouldn’t say so aloud, to ensure his safety in any way you could.

You’d snuck into the event dressed as part of the waitstaff, a form fitting short black dress, nylons and two inch black heels, all of which you’d rolled your eyes at. What happened to the standard white dress shirts and black slacks?

As you walked around holding a tray of champagne, offering drinks to guests, you finally spotted him. He was sat on the armrest of the couch in the middle of the room, his target chatting with another man you’d never seen before just to the side of him.

You made your way over, taking your time passing by the two men near him, handing them the flutes of champagne as you finally felt August’s gaze on you.

You stepped closer to him as he eyed you up and down before he raised a brow at you.

You could feel the attention of his target on you both as you stood before him.

“Champagne, sir?” you asked inconspicuously.

“Is that all that’s on the table tonight?” he responded as he took a glass, his dark gaze heating you as you saw the corner of his lips twitch in a smirk.

You had to stop yourself from reacting how you wanted to and instead forced a polite but sultry smile for your onlooker.

As you started to walk away, you felt a tug on the skirt of your dress and the warmth of August’s fingers brushing against your thigh through your nylons as you moved forward. That was unexpected... You wanted to hate the feeling, more so, you should have hated the feeling. Or at least not let it effect you so much. This was a job, after all. You needed to focus and do what you were there to do.

You glanced back over your shoulder and the twinkle in his eyes as he watched you walk away had you forcing yourself to stomp down the butterflies that threatened to take flight in your stomach. You also saw the scrutinizing eyes of his target set on him as he watched you.

August’s lips moved but you couldn’t tell what it was he said as you continued to play the part and offered drinks to other guests. All you saw was the scoff he earned from the man beside him before they both looked over at you for a second longer.

You ignored them and continued on around the room. August knew you were here now, and he knew his target better than you did, so it was up to him to figure out how he’d be able to speak with you without raising any flags.

But the night grew on and you grew more and more annoyed. You were straight up catering at this point, working a whole shift. You should be getting paid for this.

The only interaction you had with August was when you’d walk by with a new tray. His mark never strayed far from him so you didn’t say much of anything. August though, was ceaseless in his flirting. Little quips you’d ignore and the touches he’d try to pass off as accidental. You weren’t the only one to notice.

After one final tray, you walked back into the kitchen to see everything was being put away.

“Are we done?” you asked the organizer.

“Mhm, nights just about over. You can see Cian for the pay,” she pointed in the direction of the back door.

“Great, thanks,” you smiled.

Shit. What were you gonna do now? You needed to get this ring on August so you could get his new home base location and set up the new surveillance. He only had about a week left undercover if all went according to plan, but you still needed to get eyes on him and get the new trackers planted and live.

“Hey, Ashley.

Ashley!

Ashley?”

You looked around the kitchen confused as to who this Cian guy was calling, the louder his voice rose the more derailed your train of thought was getting...

“Hello, Ashley?” he said again, closer to you this time he spoke.

Who the hell is… oh shit.

You spun around and forced a smile and a titter.

“Sorry,” you laughed at yourself, playing up the bubbly tone to your voice, “I’m over here in la la land.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cian smiled, handing you a wad of cash. “If I had a man looking at me the way that guy has been looking at you all night, I’d be the same.”

“Oh,” you breathed, looking down with a soft smile, playing as coy as possible. “Was it that noticeable?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he put his hands on your shoulders and spun you back around, “go get his number before I do.”

You laughed as he pushed you back out of the kitchen. You dropped your smile the second the door closed and stuffed your cash in your bra. Now to get him alone...

Walking back out into the party area, you immediately made eye contact with August.

His target was off in a corner talking to that same man he had been speaking to before. His back was to the room so he didn’t see you and didn’t notice August as he followed you.

You walked slowly along the wall of the room as not to draw attention from anyone before you turned down the long, dark hallway off to the side.

You were two steps down the empty corridor when August’s hands were suddenly on you, turning you to face him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he seethed.

“Helping,” you responded with just as much enthusiasm, pulling your arm from his tight hold.

“You didn’t think to give me some kind of warning?”

“And how the hell was I supposed to do that? You completely crushed our only form of contact with you-”

“What would you rather I have done, huh? ‘Sorry, can’t break my phone, my team is listening and keeping tabs on me through it.’,” he said sarcastically, “You think that would’ve played over well?”

You didn’t have anything to say to that. But god, did he really need to be so forceful and mean when you were helping him out. Some part of you thought he'd be, you didn't know, proud? You'd never been in the field before and certainly never gone undercover. You had to do some pretty intense convincing to get the green light on this little operation. You knew August was gruff and almost always a little mean, especially to you, but the least he could do was be the tiniest bit grateful.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “Doesn’t matter now. But we need something on you.”

You reached again into your bra, August’s eyes ever attentive to your movements.

“Here,” you pulled out the ring you made for him. “It’s identical to the one you always wear, so just swap it for tonight. Once we get your new coordinates I'll be able to set up surveillance and figure out another way to get comms through."

You watch as August slips his ring off, sliding your tracker ring in its place.

You sense someone at the start of the hallway and flick your eyes over, "Your friend is staring."

"Is he now?" August asks as he steps closer to you, intruding in your space as he back you up against the wall. You don't say anything, just look in his eyes as your breathing slows for a moment.

His hand comes up as he cradles your cheek in his touch, "We better make this believable, then."

Your eyebrows furrow but you don't have time to speak a word before August pulls you close to him and kisses you hotly.

Vaguely, you're aware of the way his mark was just about to head in your direction before August pulled you into him and how he is now shaking his head as he retreats back some.

You're kissing August back with just as much fervor as his other hand slides down the curve of your waist. You're expecting his hand to settle on your hip but you murmur into the kiss as his touch slides lower before he grabs your ass as forces your body as close to his as he possibly can, earning a near squeal from you.

Of course, he finds that amusing as he smirks against your lips before he does it again. Your hands are bracing you against him, one on his chest and one on his stomach as you fist his shirt in your hand at the second grope.

You break away finally for air but he doesn't let you get away from him at all. His nose nuzzles yours and his moustache tickles you before his lips are on yours once again. Hot and firm before he slips his expert tongue into your mouth. You truly forget where you are and what you're doing as he kisses you like you've never been kissed before and his incessant hands feel up and down your body.

You're suddenly pushed back against what you think is a wall until you feel August's hand searching for something. The pushing down of a handle and the creak of a door opening directly behind you gives you some warning before you're urged back into the dark room. August spins around, leaning out of the door a bit and puts on a show of looking both ways before he pretends to spot his guy.

He smirks and sends him a wink.

"I told ya'," he says smugly as he starts to shut the door, "Give me twenty minutes."

The door shuts and August turns back to you, walking you back in the darkened room.

"You told him what?" you ask breathily despite yourself.

"That I'd be able to get you in the back room by the end of the night," he answers huskily, still advancing toward you. You gasp as your legs hit the back of something. You look over your shoulder behind you and are shoved by August down onto the lavish bed.

You scoff at him as you sit on the mattress, and he stands right in front of you. "No one can see us now," you assert, unsure as to why he still has that look in his eye. The one that spells nothing but trouble.

"No," he agrees, "but odds are he's gonna come by the door and try to eavesdrop," he gets closer and his bulge is prominent now as your mouth parts of her own accord. "You don't wanna blow my cover now do you?"

His hands come to his belt and you watch entranced as he unbuckles it and begins working at the zip of his pants, his heavy eyes never leaving you.

You look up at him as he starts to push them down and you really have no control over yourself as you lean back onto the bed, scooting up to give you both more room as he comes down and begins to crawl on top of you.

Your head is swimming as he kisses you again, his hands on your head as he guides you down.

"Such a good little agent you are," he taunts against your lips, moving down your body until his hands are between your thick thighs, spreading your legs as he keeps you open for him. "You'd do anything for a superior, wouldn't you," he breathes hotly along your skin as he easily tears your nylons, not even bothering to try and work them down your legs first.

You had forgone underwear, and you murmur as he kisses your neck, his thick fingers gliding along your now exposed cunt, feeling just how wet you are for him already. It's pathetic but you have no defense for yourself - not against his touch or his words...

He has one hand playing with your pussy and the other groping at your chest, and you know he's enjoying hearing all the little whines and whimpers he's getting out of you.

Finally, he decides he's ready to give you a little more. He holds himself above you as he stays between your legs, grabbing his thick length in one hand. He runs the tip of himself up and down your pussy, getting himself wet with your arousal and sending sparks lighting up your body as he teases your clit over and over. The sight of him, tall, built, powerful and ever superior, still dressed with his cock out as he plays with you, exposed before him, is something you never thought you'd see, but god, you can't say you aren't loving it.

He sees the moment you're about to open your mouth and plead for him, but he stops you before you can. In one swift, unexpected motion, August shoves his cock into your tight cunt and grabs your throat with his other hand, squeezing you into silence as your walls squeeze his thick length.

You bring one hand to his wrist as your eyes threaten to roll back from the overwhelming pleasure. He isn't choking you, he's just squeezing... with the perfect amount of pressure. Fuck, it's like he-

"Yeah, I knew you'd like that angel," he smirks as he moves his hips against you, rocking in and out of you as he sets his rhythm. "I just got in ya, you're goin' dumb on me already?"

You're damn near instantly a moaning mess beneath him as he fucks you, going harder and deeper with each thrust.

He's grunting over you, staring down at you with a sick dark lust swimming in his gaze that you almost wish you didn't know how to place... almost.

His smirk is unbreakable as you babble on and his hand trails from around your throat to tug down the neckline of your dress. He pulls until you sit up a bit and free your arms of their sleeves, pushing the material down your torso. He laughs at the cash you have stuffed in your bra before he tears it off of you.

His fingers move to tweak your hard nipples and you groan and gasp at the sensation, your walls tightening around his cock as he rocks his hips against yours. "Au-" your moan is cut off as he grabs your face in one hand, smooshing your cheeks while you look up at him pathetically.

"No names, angel. Don't be fucking stupid," he growls, fucking into you harder as he chases his high. "You see his shoes under the door," he whispers, your eyes move and you nod dumbly as you see them. "Don't talk until you see him leave."

He lowers himself closer to you as his hand returns to your neck. He groans as you slide one leg up the bed, keeping yourself spread wide for him as he thrusts into you. He kisses you sloppily, it's all tongue and teeth as he grunts and moans into your mouth, his mustache tickling your lip as he speaks through ragged breaths.

"Fuck, you have no idea how badly I've needed this," he says. You look back to the door and see the shoes are gone and you're alone again, briefly you wonder how August knew he was gone but you don't have the wherewithal to ask him as he keeps fucking you like he doesn't have a care in the world for anything other than your pussy. Maybe he really is just that good.

"You haven't even been undercover for a week," you respond quietly with a weak laugh as your eyelids flutter - his rushed movements stimulating your sensitive clit. God, you feel drunk. Is this really happening right now? Are you actually getting fucked by August Walker while you're both undercover and could theoretically be compromised any second? His strong hand on your hip as he sits up, keeping his cock inside you and his thick fingers rubbing your clit are your answer.

"Not just sex, angel. No, I can get that from anyone. I mean you," he thrusts into you slower now, working his cock in and out of you as he rubs your clit. Your walls are bearing down on him as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm. His eyes squeeze shut as he groans headily, "Fuck, Fowler said you were good, he didn't say just how fucking good," he says through grit teeth as his cock drags deliciously along your walls.

The mention of Nick's name has your belly in a flurry of emotions but mostly, right now anyway, it just serves to push you ever closer to that edge. You whimper a moan as your leg threatens to shake. The coil in your belly is winding tighter and tighter the more he says and the dirtier his words get. Your toes are curling as he circles your clit perfectly.

"You like that, huh? Knowing he talks about you to other men, tells us how much of a fucking slut you are for him," he taunts, each sentence punctuated by another thrust. "How pissed off do you think he'll be when I tell him just how easy it was to get you beneath me? Mm, do you think he'll even care at all? What else should he expect from a little whore like you. So desperate for everyone's approval I don't think you'd even mind being the communal slut for all of us to use whenever the fuck we want," you cry out as your orgasm hits you hard, so hard it's almost blinding. He's still playing with your clit and you're holding onto August like your life depends on it. He just doesn't stop. He moves you with surprising ease, pulling you up so you're straddling his lap now. You just came and you don't know how you're doing it, but despite your weakened legs, you start to move yourself on top of him, bouncing up and down his thick cock. His big hands are on your hips as he helps you keep the rhythm. Your arms are around his neck, your tits in his face as he holds you. You don't even really care about coming again, you just know you want to be full of him. He's right. You're desperate for approval. You wanna make him come. You want him to talk about how good you are to the other guys, just like Nick does. It's embarrassing and shameful but it's true. Everything he's saying is true. Being their shared slut sounds like heaven to you. You don't care if they just want to use you, not in the moment, anyway. You just want to be useful to them, to all of them, any way you can be. You want to be good. You want to be needed... to be wanted.

"Heard Barnes talking about you the other week, too. He get his cock in you yet?" he pants as he keeps you moving on his cock, his grip getting tighter. "Him and Rogers have a bet going, ya know. Which one of 'em will get to fuck you first. But smart money says they'll both lose. I think," he breathes, licking his lip, "you'd take 'em both at the same time - like the pathetic little whore you are, wouldn't you?"

Your eyes are closed tight as you ride his thick cock as best you can and all you can manage to do is mewl helplessly as your fingers twist in his hair. Your mind is playing out the scenes as he speaks them and it's turning you on even more... Bucky, Steve...August, Nick... Lloyd, Walter, fuck, all of them at the same time - using you however they wanted, however they needed and…God…yes.

August slaps your ass harshly, earning a yelp from you as your eyes shoot open.

"You answer me when I ask you a question, agent," he spits.

"Yes, sir," you respond obediently.

"Yes, sir, what?"

"Yes, I would take them both at the same time..." another slap to your ass, "like the pathetic little whore I am, sir," you respond as your skin feels like its on fire and your pussy squeezes his cock tighter with every word you're forced to speak.

"Fuuuck," he grunts, his hands on your soft ass, moving you up and down his shaft as your nails dig into the fabic of his shirt covering his shoulders. "I'm sure you can't wait to get back and let them fuck you every which way, but right now, angel," he husks gripping and kneading your softness, slamming you down again on his cock before he starts fucking up into you, "right now you're all mine."

His thrusts are ruthless and the only reason you're still upright is because you're clutching onto him with what little strength you have left. You bury your face in his neck as you cry and whine your pleasure, somehow finding yourself on the verge of another orgasm as he uses you like nothing more than a toy.

You mindlessly snake a hand down between your bodies and rub at your clit as you feel yourself a breath away from release.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you, angel," he taunts darkly. "You wanna come again for me? I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock. Fuck you feel so goddamn good. I'm gonna fuckin come, and you're gonna be good and take it all, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, please," you whine, "I'm good. Whatever you want, I'll take it, please, please. Oh, fuck, please," you groan through clenched teeth, "give it to me."

You can hear your own debauchery and if his cock filling you up wasn't pure ecstasy, you just might care enough to be embarrassed by it.

He slaps your ass again, just for fun this time as he thrusts up into you. He hits hard as you gasp and he ruts up into you once, twice more, before you finally can feel his hot seed filling you up and dripping out of you as he comes hard. He's growling and swearing as he holds you to him, making sure he gets every last drop out. You're sticky, a total mess between your legs as you both catch your breath.

He moves you off of him, not carelessly, but not carefully either.

You watch as he cleans himself up and tucks his softening cock back in his pants as you pull your arms back into the sleeves of your dress.

He bends down to pick something up and you're momentarily stunned when he stands and throws your cash on you. "You definitely earned that tonight," he laughs as he buckles his belt.

You blink down at the money, seconds away from either blowing up on him or shutting down entirely, you aren’t sure…and then are once again surprised when August leans in and kisses you on the cheek.

"Thanks for the ring, angel," he says as he moves to the door. "Don't act surprised when I get back into town next week," he turns to look at you, "you'll be my first stop."

Your lips twitch, threatening to turn into a smile as you watch him leave. You wouldn’t mind that.

You wait a few minutes, having cleaned yourself up some in the en suite bathroom, before you make sure you have everything and leave as well.

You exit through the front doors and make your way down the grand front steps to your ride.

They're parked across the street, but come up to the curb as they see you approach.

You pull open the passenger side door and get in with a huff.

"Sorry, took longer than I thought it would, but he got the tracker, so... all good."

It's quiet, he doesn't respond to your explanation, not that you entirely expected him to. You never know what you’ll get with him. Sometimes he’s friendly, bordering on flirty even, and other times he’s this. After all the surveillance stakeouts you’ve been on together, you’re used to it all.

He pulls off and you're on your way back to the city. You now expect an uneventful ride, but when God pulls up to the first stop sign where no one else is around, he finally speaks.

"That necklace I gave you," he says,

You look down at the pendant he told you to wear tonight, a tracker, you assumed, "Yeah?"

He takes a deep, drawn out breath before he looks at you with his ever scrutinizing gaze.

"It's a recording device."

It's your turn to be quiet now as your skin burns. Your eyes go wide for a second before you bother trying to school your reaction. Even then, “Oh," is all you can manage to squeak out.

He looks at you as you stare unsurely at him, those bright blue eyes penetrating you. You're almost scared for a moment, wondering what he must think of you after hearing all of what he heard... not everyone is into everything, you know that. You just hope he won’t think badly of you - not only for what you did but for everything August said that you didn’t refute once, for everything you said in turn…and then he grabs your hand. You don't break eye contact as he guides your touch to his pants, making you feel his hard cock as it strains against the material of his dark jeans.

You almost can't believe it, your head swimming as reality catches up to you. Maybe your fantasy really is possible...

You squeeze his cock gently through his jeans as he keeps his eyes on you. He groans when you do it again, "You wanna be good for me, too, sweetheart? Get the whole team on board?"

You nod.

Of course you do.

[sunlight-s0ngbird]

Welcome Board!

Hello! I am Sunlight-S0ngbird! This is my masterlist of links for my characters! I write mostly for yandere content! I am very lenient with following, just don't be a shitty person! Also, make sure to read request rules before requesting!! Request rules

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Yandere religious boy - Demetrius

Yandere god - Amias

Yandere bounty hunter - Elios

Yandere musician/outlaw - Daya

Yandere doctor - Salvador

Yandere patient - Alden

Yandere Fae - Eero

Yandere priest - Gabriel

Yandere soldier - Fritz

Yandere emperor - Nerva

Yandere siren - Calliope

Yandere pirate - Monroe

Yandere witch - Eden

Yandere prince - Aurelius

Yandere cult member - Rhodes

Yandere cowboy - Wren

Yandere outlaw - Makaveli

Yandere queen - Magdalene

Yandere experiment - Valentina

Yandere robot - Cain

Yandere producer - Edwin

Yandere scavenger - Foster

Yandere mad scientist - Henri

Yandere vampire - Belladonna

Yandere vampire victim - Lyra

Yandere farm boy - Pierce

Yandere narrator - Hugo

Yandere popular girls - Mariposa, Maybelle, and Dahlia

Yandere reality bender - Ephraim

Yandere creep - Corbin

Yandere bully - Barret - coming soon

Yandere singer - Lilavati

Yandere loner - Crane - coming soon

Yandere "bringer of death" - Circe - coming soon

Yandere mayor's son - Casimir - coming soon

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Any suggestions on any kind of yandere is always welcome!

[peaches1958]

Cute. I'd go willingly.

He Knows Everything

Pairing: God the Bounty Hunter x Reader 

Word Count: Over 350 

Warnings: Implied future smut, GOD (he’s a warning okay?), dubcon if you squint, pet name angel, OBVIOUS GHOSTED SPOILERS A/N: I CANT STOP 😩

“Oh, come on,” You groan as you once again attempt to find some sort of cell service. It’d been an hour since your car had broken down in this God-forsaken town, and you were desperate to get out as soon as possible.

“That’s no use,” the deep timber sound almost causes you to drop your phone as you look to your left to see who spoke to you in the first place.

At first, you weren’t able to make our his features. The darkened atmosphere of the bar almost engulfed his appearance. But he ends up taking a step toward you, and that’s when you’re able to see him properly. “Sorry?”

“I said, it’s no use… There’s not a single cell tower within a fifty-mile radius. You’re not going to get any luck.” He shrugs as he comes over to take a seat beside you.

You knew you should be frightened. After all, you could see the large gun strapped to his hip, and he didn’t exactly look like the type of guy you bring home to meet your grandma. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from being a little curious as his bright blue eyes bore into yours.

“And why should I trust anything you have to say?”

“I’m god. I know everything.” He leaned forward, and you felt his warm breath against your cheeks. “I know that you came into this town alone. I know that you don’t have a place to stay tonight. I know that you’ll be coming home with me, angel. Later on tonight, you’ll be worshipping this cock. I’ll be having you feel things you’ve never felt before.” Any curiosity you had felt previously was now turning to annoyance. There was no way you’d be going home with this so-called ‘god’. “In your dreams, asshole.” Your insult didn’t deter him. No, if anything it only seemed to cause him to want to prove his point even more. “There’s one more thing that I know. Have you felt your neck lately?” You quickly moved your fingers up to your neck and felt metal. “Feel that? That right there is power. If you don’t do as I say, 50,000 volts of electricity will be sent through your body. So, tell me… Who am I?”

“Goddamnit.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Killing Time 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Your frustration mounts as you click the permissions again to allow the camera and microphone access. It’s so annoying! It just keeps running you in circles. Great. This is off to a good start. Late for the interview. That’s always the best first impression. 

When at last your firewall stops blocking the call, you flinch at the sight of yourself in the corner. You’re further jarred by the man staring back at you. Your mouth opens and for a moment, you’re frozen. You were so focused on troubleshooting, you forgot about what was waiting on the other end. 

“Oh, hi,” you squeak. “Sorry, I--” you look around, glancing through the clear walls of the library study room. It’s the first time you’ve been to this branch but you didn’t think the clutter of your apartment would make a good backdrop. “I was having issues with my camera.” 

“Quite alright,” he responds with a grin and a lilted accent. He sounds as professional as he looks. 

He wears a grey jacket over a muted teal shirt that lights up his eyes, even over the screen. His short hair is combed back neatly and there’s not a speck of stubble on his jaw. Under the structure of his attire you can tell he’s well-built. 

You resist the urge to look down at yourself. A white blouse. Boring but professional. It gets the job done. Hopefully. 

You force a smile. 

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he begins through your nervous silence. “I do appreciate your time and I would hate to waste it. So, we can hop right in.” He looks unflinchingly into the camera, “oh, let us not go so far past courtesy. I am James, we’ve been corresponding, yes?” 

“Uh, yeah, I remember. James.” You gulp. 

He says your name with a keen inclination. “This is rather not the position which requires those cliche questions so I won’t trouble you with asking what animal best reflects your personality.” 

You cough out a humouring chuckle and fold your hands on the desk. 

“Forgive if I should seem to the point. You see, it’s a very practical position. I think it’s best we go over what is expected before we go into the finer details; expenses, relocation, dates--” 

“Mm,” you squeak and put a finger up, “s-sorry, um, I thought we were interviewing but it sound like you’ve made a decision?” 

“Well, yes, I’ve reviewed your CV and your submitted profile and your answers to the questionnaire were acceptable. I didn’t think there was much else to consider,” he intones. You shift and try to hide your surprise. 

“No, of course, that makes sense,” you say. “Thanks, I guess I was confused.” 

“Not to worry. I find that written communication can often lack clarity so I thought it best we have a face-to-face in this circumstance,” he looks down as if he has a book or paper before him. “So, did you have any questions before I proceed?” 

“No, no, really, I'm sure you’ll answer them all.” Your cheeks bloom in a half-smile. You were so nervous about getting the job but you’ve already got it. 

“Right then,” he sits back and once more stares down the camera. “It is a very old property but the upkeep has been consistent. There should not be any glaring necessities for maintenance, this more of a custodial position. So, you would be the one to keep the place clean, make sure it is aired out, tend to the lawns but we do employ a grounds keeping service that comes fortnightly to trim.” 

You nod. It’s intriguing. You were sent photos of the property but you’re not quite sure of its purpose. Judging by the clustered pines in the background, you would guess it’s remote. A getaway that could be a goldmine for those wanting a vacation from the urban jungle. 

“You would have a roster, you see, of those you could contact for service so you will not require any specialisations. You are the day-to-day and would be expected to bring in the appropriate support for higher-touch difficulties.” 

“Right,” you try not to show your anxiety. 

“Albeit I should warn you that the reception in that location is not the greatest so if you cannot call out, you would need to keep trying. It will eventually catch but uh, not to mind, as long it is attended is what matters, not when,” he says.  

“Mhm, that makes sense. Um, can I ask what the property is? Is it like a summer home or...” 

“Ah, family inheritance,” he answers primly. “I’ve not much use for it past the sentimental value and I thought of leasing it for traveling parties but I’ve heard horror stories. Right now, I’m merely sitting on it until I figure out exactly what to do with it.” 

“Oh, right. Wow. Quite the inheritance.” 

“Hm, yes, my uncle did rather adore me. I was the only one named in his will but he was a bit of a curmudgeon.” He laughs. “Now, I must ask the most important question--” 

Before he can, the door swings open and you jump in your seat. Your heart sinks. You signed the room out for ninety minutes. You thought it would be more than enough. Surely it hasn’t been that long. 

Shoot. It’s him. How did he find you? You deliberately went out of your way so that he couldn’t. 

“Jake,” you stand and turn to him, trying to block the computer. “What are you doing?” 

“There you are,” he touches his chest as if he should be the one so afraid. “You didn’t come home--” 

You growl and cross your arms. 

“Jake, go away,” you grit out. “Not right now. Please.” 

“I had to make sure you’re okay,” he steps into the room and you push yourself back against the table. “Who else is going to look after you?” 

“I will scream, alright,” you warn. “Now leave me alone. I’m tired of telling you.” 

He sighs and his jaw squares. “I don’t get you. You act like I’m such a bad guy and I haven’t done anything to you. I never hurt you but you hurt me. You just spit in my face--” 

“Pardon,” the voice rises from the speaker at your back. “If I may, she is occupied and you are interrupting. I have a mind to contact emergency service should you persist.” Your mouth falls open and you turn to look at your laptop. James leans forward to glare at the lens, “Not sure who you are, fellow, but the lady has been clear.” 

“Who-- who is he?” Jake sputters. 

“Please, just go,” you plead. “Or I will call the police.” 

Little good they will do, you think, but that doesn’t need to be said aloud. 

He frowns and his eyes glint dangerously. You stare back at him, tense, fingers curling and uncurling nervously. That man on the screen won’t stop him and you don’t know if anyone would hear you from the desk. 

“Fine, guess I’ll see ya around,” he relents and backs out. 

You don’t move until he snaps the door shut. You hurry over and twist the lock on the inside. You don’t know why you didn’t do that before. 

“Are you alright?” James asks, drawing you back to the desk. 

You sit and look at the keyboard, “I’m very sorry. I...” 

“He doesn’t sound like a friend,” James says. You shake your head. “Well, then, it does sound like you’re in need of a fresh start. I do hope this can be that for you.” 

You look up and bat away the glimmer on the brims of your eyes. You’re not just afraid, you’re embarrassed. His kindness is as comforting as it is unexpected. 

“Thanks, um, anyway...” you exhale, “you were going to ask something.” 

“Yes, uh, yes, I was,” he reconfigures and puts another smile on. “When can you depart? I would of course arrange travel to be sure you get here safe and sound.” 

“Oh, when... whenever is best. Not to be too desperate but as soon as possible,” you say. 

“Wonderful,” he praises, “absolutely wonderful. Is tomorrow too soon? Pardon my own desperation.” 

“Tomorrow?” You utter and shake your head. “Tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow.”  

It's sudden and scary but it’s good. The sooner you go, the less time Jake has to figure out what you’re doing. The less chance he can follow. It’s an escape. Not a perfect one but it’s all you have. 

🩸

You spend all night packing. You parse down what you have to the essentials and put the rest in bags. You don’t care about the furniture. You say as much in your email to your landlord, telling him to use your deposit for the disposal. 

You whittle your life down to three bags. A large suit case, a knapsack, and a single purse. You have it ready to go by the door. 

You feel uneasy about it. You stare at your luggage, the lights off, windows closed. Your phone buzzes and you put it to silent, ignoring the messages from your personal pest. You’ll be done with him too. You wonder if you should just toss your cell. 

You don’t sleep. You can’t. You still can’t believe you’re getting out. You hope you haven’t given the game away. 

There’s a tap on the window. You nearly roll onto the floor. You look over and hear it again, a harder impact. Are you serious? He’s throwing stones. He could break the damn glass. 

You shake your head. You won’t fall for it. Not again. You remember when he came to your door and cried until you opened up. He even smeared ketchup on his face to make you think he was hurt. It’s hard to tell the difference through a peephole. 

Almost there. Almost out. You just need to make it a few more hours. 

As you ignore the incessant tapping and the light of your phone glowing ever few minutes, your thoughts turn bitter. You should message everyone who turned their back on you and tell them exactly what they’ve put you through. Somehow, you think they’d care as much as they did before. 

Sleep eludes you but a foggy daze comes over you as the windows soften with the early morning. There’s no more pebbles bouncing off the pane. Just you and the buzz of the sleeping city. 

Your alarm chimes and you get up as your head pulses. You’re used to the constant fatigue. It will ease up and you’ll just feel a bit heavy. When it’s normal, you don’t notice as much. 

You get ready and have an instant coffee by the door. James messages just before nine. Your car will be there in ten. Oh, early. You don’t mind about that. 

You won’t go out and wait. You’ll stay here, where it’s safe. 

When your phone goes off again, you expect it to be Jake. It’s James. Whew. You’re so close, you can’t believe it. 

You grab your knapsack and purse, and drag your suitcase out behind you. You lock the door and throw the key through the mail slot. You hurry down the hall and take the stairs over the elevator.  

You don’t look back or anyway but forward. You look at your cell. 'Black Jaguar’ followed by a plate number. Jaguar? Holy moly. 

The tinted window rolls down and reveals the same face from the Zoom call. You didn’t know he was coming himself. You assumed he was sending a cab or something. You slow as you come out the door. He smiles and pops open the door. 

Before you can come forward, another figure appears, blocking your way. 

“Hey, I've been calling all night,” Jake says. You stop short and nearly yelp. Of course! 

“Jake, move.” 

“Where are you going?” He looks at your bags desperately. “Wait, you can’t--” 

“Pardon me, sir, is there some issue?” James strides up behind him. 

Jake turns to face him and stiffens, “and who are you—wait, you’re that guy from the computer.” 

“I’m none of your business, as is her life,” James insists. “Now, seems you’re used to picking on those smaller than you but let’s see how you do against me?” 

James steps closer. He’s a few inches taller than Jake. You can’t move as they stare each other down. You wait, expecting chaos. 

“I was only talking,” Jake shows his palms and shrugs. “It’s whatever. She’s a bitch anyways.” 

He turns and snarls over his shoulder at you. You back up. As Jake turns, he’s knocked off kilter as James hurls his fist into his jaw. The shorter man staggers and falls to one knee, catching himself in the grass. 

“Well, that was a lovely chat,” James smirks and beckons to you, “shall we?” 

[navybrat817]

Ficlet Friday Masterlist - 2/14

Various ficlets shared with various men. Will update as I share more. ❤️ Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics .

Andy Barber

Post-It Notes

Bucky Barnes

Best Hugs and Kisses

Better Tomorrow

Destroyer!Chris

Across the Room

Curtis Everett

Cold as Ice

God the Bounty Hunter

Wired Differently

James Mace

Another Sunrise

Lee Bodecker

Late Night Visitor

Nick Fowler

Micromanager

Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

[holylulusworld]

SHG for killers (3) - The second meeting

Summary: 6 men meet up to talk about their problems. They soon realize they need someone to help them solve their problems. This person is you. Whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Steve Kemp x fem!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader, Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x fem!Reader, Andy Barber x fem!Reader, God, the bounty hunter x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, hostage situation, language, kidnapping, plot twist

A/N: Please consider Steve Kemp is not a cannibal in my story. This is an AU. All men are serial killers, killers, or hitmen.

SHG for killers (2) – You (the reader)

Self-help group for killers masterlist

“What do you mean?” Lloyd is in Barber’s face. He growls profanities before pushing the lawyer out of his way. “That’s the woman on your phone. And I can tell, you have a fucking lot of pictures on your phone of her. Even some in her bathtub.”

“She’s not my therapist,” Andy argues while stepping toward you, sitting in the middle of their fucked-up self-help group.

You assisted your boss more than once with groups like these. Usually, they are middle-aged women or men who are unhappy with their mediocre lives.

They nag about their sex life, jobs, and even food only to feel better. Most of them never had real problems or even got close to having problems.

You on the other hand just got kidnapped by a group of crazy guys, and one creep. Andy Barber, a first class creep, second-class lawyer.

“F—er,” you growl behind the gag and glare at Andy. He got you into this shit show, so he can get you out of it. “L—go.”

“No letting go of you, Cupcake,” the guy with the mustache, Lloyd, says. His bruised balls don’t seem to stop him from getting cocky and being an asshole.

“She’s not his therapist, for fuck’s sake,” Robert steps in. “Do you want me to get rid of her? I can make you a good price.”

Whimpering, you try to scramble away from the scary-looking guy. He smirks while getting a gun out.

“What did we say about weapons at our meetings?” Ransom sighed deeply. “Last time, you almost stabbed God’s eye out, only because he wanted to eat the last donut.”

“It was a cronut, but this doesn’t matter now,” Robert brushes Ransom’s comment off. “She won’t be helpful so, we are going to get rid of her, one way or another.”

“Christ, we won’t kill her!” Andy barks now, making you flinch. “How could you kidnap her, Hansen? You see one picture of a woman and decide to go out there and kidnap her? You burned her place down too. Do you honestly believe there won’t be consequences?”

“He’s not wrong,” Kemp brings in. He watches you cower on the ground, feeling a little more excited. “The cops will ask questions. When and where did you take her? Did you check for cameras? What about her home? Did anyone see you?”

Lloyd turns toward the doctor like in slow motion. He growls his name before tackling him to the ground. You giggle when they start to wrestle because it seems tackling people to the ground is Lloyd’s thing.

“What’s so funny?” Ransom grunts. He sneaked closer to you to poke your arm. “They are going to kill you.” The bastard in a baby-blue sweater says. He looks familiar, but you can’t remember where you have seen his face before.

“Ransom, leave her alone,” Andy finally steps toward you. He grabs you by your waist to haul you up, making you groan. “Whatever happened here, is not my fault. I want you to know that.”

“Cr—p,” you grunt behind the gag. The men stop fighting as Andy helps you sit on one of the chairs.

“HANDS OF BARBER!” Lloyd is back on his feet to push Andy away from you. He removed the gag, hoping you’ll forgive him if he brings you somewhere safe.

“SHUT UP, HANSEN! Andy bites back. “You can’t even kidnap the right woman. No wonder you had to find a self-help group. You get nothing done on your own.”

“Oh yeah?” Lloyd cocks his head and flips Andy the bird. “Please enlighten me, Mr. Barber. How are you going to help me?”

“I will delete the footage,” Andy begins. “I bet you waited for her at the underground car park. Did you check on the cameras at her apartment complex or the one on the other side of the street?” He chortles when Lloyd blanches. “I guess not. Good thing the boring lawyer is here to take care of your ass, isn’t it.”

Andy pats Lloyd’s cheek, earning a growl from the man kidnapping you. “Get your fucking hands off me, Barber.”

“What are we going to do now?” God finally asks. He glances at you, humming as you size him up. “She’s pretty, and I like her hair. Can we keep her?”

“We are not going to keep her,” Pronge and Kemp grunt in unison.

“I wouldn’t mind eating a cookie of her coochie,” Ransom eyes you like his latest meal. “I bet she makes naughty noises when getting tongue fucked.”

“Fuck off, Drysdale,” Lloyd is in the arrogant-looking man’s face. He pushes him around, roughing him up a little until the man raises his hands in surrender. “That’s my Cupcake, and I’ll eat it.”

“No one will eat shit,” you finally found your voice. “You sick weirdos will bring me back home, or I’ll scream until your ears are bleeding. And believe me, I can get on your nerves so much that you will lose your mind.”

Andy grins. Your temper and cockiness were the reason he got obsessed with you. “Y/N, they are not as nice as I am. How about you do not threaten a room full of killers.”

“Losers,” you huff and glare at Andy. “You better not think I do not know about all of your little problems.” You drop your eyes to his crotch. “How long since you had an erection? Months, years?”

Ransom is having a blast watching you dismantle Andy. He’s munching cookies, chuckling now and then as you throw insults at the lawyer.

“I saw you snap pictures of me more than once, you fucking creep.” You curl your upper lip.

“I was bored and,” Andy sighs deeply. “It was wrong of me to take pictures of you, that’s true but…” He looks away and fakes a whimper. “You were the first woman I was interested in since my wife died.”

“Man, you are using your dead wife to get laid,” Kemp snorts. “That’s a new low, Barber, even for you.”

“Says the guy fucking his dead partner’s wife,” Andy snaps at Steve. “Who is a creep here? Don’t think we do not know it was you killing him.”

“Everyone knows you have a tiny wiener in your pants,” God throws in, not looking at one of the other men in the room.

“What?” They suddenly all say.

It’s seconds later that they all start to argue. Punches get thrown, and they start to scream at each other.

“Guys…” You roll your eyes as they won’t stop arguing. “GUYS!”

They stop fighting each other to look at you. You cock your head to look at Lloyd. “I’m not his therapist but I studied psychology. I just never graduated. I could try to help you with your…problems, though.”

[thezombieprostitute]

God the Bounty Hunter Stories

Global Warming

On Your Period

Pen Pals

Tech Tuesdays

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, kidnapping, bondage

gn reader

Thinking about ex-military Yandere and how he doesn’t bat an eye over any of the things he does to you because it all pales in comparison to what he’s seen and done across the border. Ex-military Yandere, who’s only a bit older than you but seems a whole lifetime mature. Ex-military Yandere, who moves like clockwork, with veteran skill—like a rustless steel tool who knows exactly how to get the job done without any fuss. 

He sneaks into your home in the dead of night, triggering no alarms, and has you zip-tied and duct-taped like a hostage before you can even make a sound, then thrown in the backseat like he’s driving you out into the desert to put a bullet in your head. 

You’re convinced he’s a paid bounty hunter of some sort and that you’ve been taken for ransom by god-only-knows who—but that theory dissipates over time—you wish that had been all it was. 

He keeps you in the basement, in some type of doomsday prep bomb shelter. The knives and guns mounted behind a thick sheen of glass under a dozen locks and keys tell you enough about how not to mess with him. Still, you put up a meager fight when you realize what he means to do to you. 

A steel bed is what he takes you on. The mattress is thin, and the cold metal bites clean through it. And still, his touch seems tougher, holding you like he’s never held anything soft before—with a vicious grip like he’s catching prey bare-handed.

You’re tied tighter than need be—every limb immobilized—wrists bound behind your back, and your legs in a crossed knot that’s fixed to your throat like a chain and collar, keeping your thighs folded against your chest.

Even if your mouth wasn’t gagged, you’d only be able to squeak with the way he pounds away at you like it’s the literal end of the world.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Toji, Higuruma ♡ HQ – Daichi, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Sakusa, Miya twins, Ushijima, Ukai ♡ AOT – Eren, Levi, Erwin, Zeke ♡ DS – Akaza, Inosuke, Sanemi, Genya ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a yandere werewolf, but not just any werewolf… a bounty hunter. And he has it bad for his you. Cowboy Werewolf!

Yandere Shorts: Like I Love You

Yandere werewolf x fem reader

TW: obsession, delusional themes, abo dynamic, horror, gore (mentioned), death of characters, neglectful husband, betrayal, cheating husband, forced relationship, mention of baby trapping, and behavior that should not be romanticized

Rolfe was currently on a hunt… his target is a sickly preacher’s, one that should be easy enough. Her own husband had paid him quite the pretty penny to off her. Poor little lamb didn’t stand a chance in the wilderness of this world. Not when she had enemies close to her side such as an unfaithful husband and a conniving best friend. He almost felt sorry for his prey

He arrived a day later, his clawed fingers dragged through a lock of her hair as he inhaled her scent. She smelled… delicious. And she was so vulnerable too with her nape out that just begged for his teeth to be driven into…

Rolfe shook his head before he went back into a trance when she subconsciously leaned into his touch. His hand moved up and grazed her temple that felt as if it were ablaze. Poor woman had a fever…

“Darling? Did you finally come to me?” Her voice was a bit delirious with sickness as she kissed his hands. Each kiss made him feel as if he was her beloved. It took everything in him not to loudly whine like a dog. “I missed you so much James. I’m sorry I got sick again.”

Rolfe didn’t say a word before he continued to drag his rough palms through her hair. His heart hammered in his chest and his wolf clawed inside his brain to be released. It seemed this woman before him… was his fated mate.”

Rolfe bent down and buried his nose into the crook of her neck to deeply inhaled. Oh yes… this lassy was his for the takin.

Rolfe began to slowly nurse her back to health rather than off her. An action that made his employer question him. Why on earth would a monster nurse such a nuisance back to health? She was always near death’s door. What use was such a delicate woman in the Wild West?

“When are you going to off (your name)? She’s an easy target.”

“I have honor as a bounty hunter. It must be a hunt.” Rolfe snarled at (your name)’s husband, James, the man who dared to keep her sick due to his lack of care. Had that scrawny man have no pride as a man? The pastor made him sick.

“She’s easy to pick off right now. I’d really like this to be over and done with so I can marry Helen. This is why I hired a monster-“ Rolfe picked James up from the ground by his throat as James gasped for air.

“You are a foolish, greedy man. Are you sure you are truly a man of god?” Rolfe growled, showing his fangs. His dark, muscular form largely towered over James’s lithe frame. “You’re a pathetic man.”

Rolfe soon went back to the care of (your name). The werewolf rubbed his cheeks all over her bed and her body to scent her… he needed to get rid of James’s scent. Rolfe wouldn’t let another have her and hurt her again… he’d spirit her away.

Rolfe wondered how many pups she’d want. If they’d be pretty like her but strong like him… if she’d pepper him with nips and kisses everyday. If she’d beg him for his knot on the next full moon as he properly mated her?

“Darling?” (Your name) reached for his face and Rolfe was quick to put his face in them. A needy whine escaped his throat while he nuzzled her. She was his precious mate…

He snarled when he saw Helen enter. The woman scoffed at him in disgust.

“Ugh. James and I are tired of waiting. You have been here over a month! We want you gone beast. We’ll do it ourselves.”

“So you’re cancelling the contract?” He hummed while he continued to tenderly kiss (your name)‘a palms. “Are you sure? Did you read the fine print?”

“Yes. We don’t need your kind here, true love will prevail-“ Helen didn’t even have time to scream before a giant black wolf hybrid had dug it’s fangs into her throat and ripped it apart like wrapping paper. Blood splattered all over the floor and walls as Helen could only helplessly choke on her own blood.

“Yes… true love will prevail.” He muttered with a a satisfied hum. “My mate will be so happy.”

Meanwhile, James fled into the forest for dear life. That beast had gotten Helen! The two of them couldn’t believe the werewolf would turn on him.

James loudly leapt when he heard something large chase him through the underbrush on all fours. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel his sweat pool down his back in puddles. He needed to get to the church! A demon such as the bounty hunter couldn’t possibly enter there-

But James was knocked to the ground as an agonized shriek fell from his lips. The werewolf began to shake and mangle his leg like the bloodthirsty beast it was…

“Let me go! Let me go! I didn’t do anything-“

Rolfe chuckled darkly. The black werewolf dropped his legs and glanced his beastly head at James. “Oh but she never did anything either… all she did was foolishly love you.”

“W-what do you mean? Are you talking about-“ James’s words were muffled by the paw like hand that covered his mouth. Rolfe shushed him.

“Shhh. You may have failed to pay me and cancel my contract but I had gotten something far more valuable from this transaction. Something most werewolves dream to find in their lifetimes… a fated mate!” Rolfe sighed dreamily. “You may have failed as a protector and provider, but I surely won’t! You have given me something more valuable than any coin could offer… yet you were neglectful to her. Such a shame really.”

“I… I’ll do anything! Just take her and let me live.”

“Ah but I can’t do that. Not when she still calls for you at night. No… you have to be eliminated. Destroyed, really. You can no longer exist on the same planet as her! You are in the way of my love!”

Loud screams of terror ringed out throughout the crisp night air and then it was silence.

Rolfe returned hours later scrubbed clean of blood while he crawled into the bed with his darling mate. He sighed in contentment when she cuddled him. Yes… it may take time to train her properly, but he was sure he could do it. He could make her love him. Just like he loved her.

[lazy-ahh]

ORPHAN OF THE VOID (MEETS HIS RUIN)

pairing viltrum! mark grayson x (space outlaw) male reader

rule #1 of being a space outlaw: always put yourself first. you've survived slave markets, alien mobs, and the cold void of space—but none of it prepared you for mark grayson. in another life, you might’ve run. but his hand fits too perfectly around yours—and for the first time, you’re not sure you want to escape.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff

you crash-landed on earth in what could be called a blaze of glory—if "glory" meant a flaming heap of scrap metal, stolen engine parts, and the distinct smell of burning circuits. your ship, the star-jumper (a name you gave it after drunkenly winning it in a bet), was now little more than a smoking carcass, its hull groaning as it settled into the crater it had just carved into the ground. you coughed, waving away the thick plumes of smoke, and grinned.

home.

or at least, what was supposed to be home.

you’d been lost for so long, your earliest memories were just fragments—scavenging for food in the wreckage of your family’s ship, their remains staining the walls in hues you didn’t want to remember. the rogue aliens who’d boarded hadn’t killed you—no, that would’ve been too easy. instead, they’d dragged you off, sold you like cargo to some backwater planet where the air was poison and the only thing thicker than the smog was the cruelty. you’d spent years in a rusted helmet just to breathe, doing grunt work for slavers who’d branded you like livestock. the scar on the back of your neck still burned sometimes, a phantom reminder of the iron searing into your skin.

but you’d escaped. stolen a ship. learned how to fight, how to lie, how to survive. you became a legend in the galaxy—the ghost of the outer rim, they called you. a thief with a heart? maybe. but only when it suited you. you helped where you could, but the second things got dicey? poof. gone. survival was the only rule that mattered. you gotta put yourself first, you know? self-love is important!

then, one night in some grimy spaceport bar, a drunk alien had sneered at you, called you a "disgusting human" like it was an insult.

human.

suddenly, everything made sense. the fragments of songs in your head, the faded memories of blue skies, the way your body craved sunlight like it was starving for it. earth. you had a home.

you’d spent months charting a course, dodging bounty hunters, and patching up the star-jumper just enough to make the trip. chicago—your home—wasn’t some distant planet. it was right here.

as you breached earth’s atmosphere, your heart pounded. you’d imagined skyscrapers kissing the clouds, neon lights, advanced technology, maybe even a welcoming committee. but instead—

"…am i in the right place?" you muttered, squinting at the distinct lack of floating cities.

eh, whatever. you hit the gas.

the landing was… rough. but the second you stumbled out of the wreckage, coughing up what was definitely not earth-friendly space dust, you were met with the barrel of a gun. then another. then—oh, fantastic—a whole squad of pissed-off, high-tech soldiers, their weapons humming with energy you really didn’t want to test.

your hands shot up in surrender. "hey, hey—easy! i come in peace and all that jazz—"

then, a new group arrived.

your eyes skimmed over them—some guy with a ridiculous beard, some guy that can actually pull off that mustache, a green woman, another woman with a... a uhhh hammer? a huge fish, some guy covered in all red, a guy you really want to steal from cause what was that flying vehicle he just came from, and- is that a martian???—before locking onto him.

tall. broad-shouldered. dark hair swept back like some kind of regal space prince, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass. his eyes—soft brown, but sharp, calculating—scanned you with an intensity that made your throat dry. his lips were a sinful shade of pink, pressed into a firm line, and his body—god, the way that white suit clung to him should’ve been illegal. the fabric stretched over his chest, his arms thick with muscle but still lean, built for speed and power. a familiar insignia gleamed on his shoulders, marking him as something dangerous.

something beautiful.

your brain short-circuited.

"who the hell are you?" beard-guy snapped.

you blinked, then flashed your most charming grin, brushing soot off your jacket like you hadn't just been mentally undressing mr. tall-dark-and-pretty in front of an entire militia and superhero squad. "name's (y/n). professional space outlaw, part-time legend. also, uh... human? apparently?" you gestured to yourself with a little flourish. "surprise?"

the air hung heavy with disbelief. the red-suited woman (you'd later learn was war woman) tightened her grip on her mace. darkwing's cape billowed dramatically even though there wasn't any wind—showoff.

then that voice—deep, smooth, and dripping with enough arrogance to power a small planet—cut through the tension like one of mark's punches through concrete.

"you expect us to believe that?"

you turned slowly, and there he was. mark grayson. all six-plus feet of sculpted perfection, standing like the universe personally appointed him judge, jury, and executioner. his white suit clung to him in ways that should be studied by scientists, a familiar insignia gleaming on his shoulders like a warning label. his eyes—god, those eyes—dark and intense, locked onto you with the focus of a predator who just found his new favorite plaything.

the older guy in red and white (nolan, you also later found out) gave mark a look that could melt steel. mark barely glanced at him before returning that burning gaze to you, chin tilted up in challenge.

"believe what you want, pretty boy," you shot back, flipping your quad-blaster in a showy arc before smoothly holstering it with a satisfying click. "but i've been jumping from one star system to another since i was knee-high to a xenomorph, and i just pulled off the greatest homecoming this side of the milky way. so, y'know." you spread your arms wide. "applause would be nice. also, is this how earth greets all its returning space orphans? because ouch."

a new voice—robotic, skeptical—piped up from the group. "alright, let me ask you this: what master do you serve?"

you blinked. then burst out laughing. "what master do i serve?" you repeated, wiping an imaginary tear. "what am i supposed to say, jesus?" you gestured to your battered clothes and the still-smoking wreck behind you. "i serve me, pal. and occasionally the nearest bar when i'm thirsty."

"bar? you don't look any older than 17."

"what...? is there like, an age restriction to drinking here on earth? oh, what the fuck..."

mark's lip did that thing again—the almost-smile that wasn't quite approval but wasn't quite disgust either. dangerous. exciting.

"cute," he said, taking a step forward that somehow felt like a threat and a promise all at once. "but if you're lying, i'll throw you back into orbit myself."

"that's enough, mark." nolan's voice carried the weight of someone used to being obeyed. mark didn't back down, but he did pause, his eyes never leaving yours.

you couldn't help but grin wider. oh yeah. this was definitely gonna be fun.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

the rivalry was instant. electric. the kind of tension that made your teeth ache and your pulse race in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way mark's stupidly perfect face twisted into a scowl every time you opened your mouth.

at first glance, you'd thought he was just another pretty-boy hero with a god complex—until you saw the way he moved. like gravity was a suggestion. like violence was his first language. and that symbol on his shoulders... something about it made the hair on your neck stand up. it was familiar in a way you couldn't place, like a half-remembered nightmare, sending little jolts of adrenaline through you every time it caught your eye. you'd seen it somewhere in your years drifting through the cosmos, you were sure of it. but for the life of you, you couldn't remember where.

"so what's your deal, superboy?" you'd asked during your first "team bonding" exercise (which was really just cecil's way of seeing if you'd try to steal anything, to see whether you were a threat or just a nuisance. a useful nuisance). "you part of some space cult with the fancy shoulder decals? or just really into symmetrical fashion?"

mark had looked at you like you'd just pissed in his cereal. "it's none of your concern."

"ohhh, mysterious," you'd crooned, leaning into his space just to watch his nostrils flare. "i like it."

that was the moment you decided you were going to make it your life's mission to get under his skin.

you, the cocky space rogue who could quote every line from the blurry vhs tapes of your childhood (even if the memories of your parents' laughter were fading like dying stars). him, the ruthless warrior who moved like he owned the air he breathed and had the ego to match.

training sessions turned into competitions. missions turned into showdowns. every time you pulled off some insane stunt with your jet boots—maybe flipping backwards over a charging villain while blasting your guns like some 80s action hero—mark would "accidentally" punch through the building behind you, sending debris raining down on your head.

"wow," you'd deadpan, shaking concrete dust from your hair, "so impressive. did you practice that in the mirror? or are you just naturally this extra?"

his only response would be that infuriating smirk before he'd zip off to wreck something else.

the first time you stole his kill was an accident. the second time? absolutely on purpose.

"hey grayson!" you called out as you sailed past him on your jet boots, quad blasters already charging. "catch!"

the alien invader exploded mid-air just as mark was winding up for his punch. you took a dramatic bow in midair, blowing imaginary smoke from your guns. "you're welcome."

"you're insufferable," mark growled, floating closer with that murderous glint in his eyes.

"and you're jealous," you sing-songed, hovering just out of reach and sticking out your tongue for good measure. you loved being the only person who can get under his skin, being the only person who can get a reaction from someone who's normally stern and stoic and always in control.

he lunged. you dodged. it became your favorite game.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

then, the obsession started.

not that you were complaining—hell, you lived for this kind of attention. but at first, you didn’t even realize what it was. you just thought mark was being his usual, overbearing, infuriating self—until the patterns became impossible to ignore.

it was the little things at first:

the way his eyes never left you during briefings, even when cecil was talking. like you were the only one in the room worth looking at.

how he’d suddenly materialize on your solo missions, arms crossed, that stupid smirk on his face like he’d won some game you didn’t even know you were playing. "need backup?" he’d ask, voice dripping with fake innocence, while you groaned and muttered, "i was fine, grayson."

the way he’d linger after training sessions, wiping sweat off his brow (ugh, showoff) while subtly blocking the exit so you’d have to squeeze past him.

but the real kicker? the way his entire body went rigid whenever you so much as glanced at someone else.

"oh my god," you whispered to yourself one day, hiding a grin behind your hand as you watched mark obliterate the stupid little stress ball you’d stolen from a space mall and gifted him as a joke. his fingers flexed, the poor thing reduced to rubber dust, all because you’d winked at rex splode while the two of you were debriefing with cecil.

"he’s jealous," you realized, giddy.

…or, well. maybe.

you shook your head, laughing at yourself. yeah, right. like mark grayson—mr. tall-dark-and-stoic, the guy who probably bench-pressed asteroids for fun—would ever be jealous over you. you were, after all, quote on quote a lesser being compared to him. and why would he want someone who wasn't an equal or close to an equal?

"years of zero human interaction really fried my brain, huh," you muttered, rubbing your temples. you were just being delusional, spinning little fantasies to make life more interesting, to cope. that’s what happened when you spent most of your life alone in space, right? you started seeing things that weren’t there.

…except.

except.

the way mark’s gaze burned into you whenever you laughed too loud with someone else. the way his voice got dangerously calm when another hero flirted with you. the way he’d "accidentally" bump into you in the hallway, his hands lingering just a second too long on your waist, his half-lidded yet stern gaze lingering on you as he waited for you to say something sarcastic.

maybe you weren’t imagining it.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

"you're staring again," you teased one lazy afternoon, slumped against the guardians' hq wall like you owned the place. your arms were tucked behind your head, showing off just enough of your torso to be annoyingly casual—and just enough to watch mark's eyes flicker down for half a second before snapping back up.

you hadn't scraped together enough credits to buy your own place yet (superhero salaries were shit), but honestly? crashing at hq wasn't so bad. free food. cool tech. and, most importantly, front-row seats to the slow, delicious unraveling of mark grayson's infamous self-control.

his gaze was heavy today—dark, intense, hungry in a way that made the back of your neck prickle.

"you're imagining things," he muttered, but his eyes didn't waver. not even a little.

"uh-huh. sure." you smirked, tilting your head just enough to expose the column of your throat—just to see if he'd bite. "you like me, grayson."

it was supposed to be a joke. your tone was light, playful, the same way you'd tease rex, robot, or atom eve. but the second the words left your mouth, something in mark's expression shifted. his jaw clenched. his pupils dilated. his shoulders tensed like a predator about to pounce.

something dangerous. something possessive.

your breath hitched.

oh.

oh shit.

before you could react—before you could even breathe—his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist in a grip that was just shy of bruising. his skin was warm, calloused from countless battles, compared to yours which still had their softness since you wore gloves most of the time, but still calloused all the same. the contrast and similarity sent a jolt of heat straight to your gut.

"maybe," he said, voice so low it vibrated through you, "i just like putting you in your place."

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. your pulse was racing, and you knew he could feel it when his thumb brushed over the frantic flutter beneath your skin.

"oh?" you managed, raising an eyebrow like your heart wasn't trying to climb out of your chest. "and where's my place, exactly?"

his grip tightened. his other hand came up, fingers skimming the side of your neck—right over your pulse point, like he knew exactly how much he affected you. his thumb traced the line of your jaw, slow and deliberate, while his middle and ring fingers ghosted over the brand on the back of your neck—the one you never let anyone touch.

you flinched.

mark noticed.

his touch gentled—just for a second—before his voice dropped to a whisper, his lips so close to your ear you could feel his breath.

"wherever i want you."

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

the warmth came later. slow, like a star forming in the void—quiet, inevitable, burning.

it started with late-night talks on the hq roof, your legs dangling over the edge while mark hovered just beside you (because of course he wouldn’t sit like a normal person). you’d ramble about the constellations you’d charted, the supernovas you’d raced, the black holes you’d barely escaped. and mark—mark, who acted like listening to anyone else was beneath him—would actually listen. his eyes would stay fixed on your face, his brow slightly furrowed, like you were the only thing in the universe worth his attention.

"and then boom—whole damn asteroid belt turned to dust," you finished, waving your hands dramatically. "wish you could’ve seen it."

"i could have," he said, nose scrunched in that way it did when he was trying very hard not to sound impressed. "if i’d been there."

you snorted. "oh, please. you’d have punched one rock and called it a day."

he huffed—the closest thing to a laugh he’d ever admit to—and nudged your shoulder with his knee. "i wouldn’t have needed a stolen ship to escape."

"wow. rude." you clutched your chest. "and after i shared my trauma with you."

his lips twitched. "some of us don’t need to compensate with stories."

"ohhh, big words from the guy who literally calls himself invincible—"

"it’s accurate—"

"it’s embarrassing—"

he flicked your forehead. you punched his shin.

neither of you moved away.

the touches came next.

small, at first. a hand on your back after a fight, lingering just a second too long. a shoulder pressed to yours in the elevator, like he needed the contact. once, after a particularly brutal mission, he’d even carried you back to hq—not because you couldn’t walk (you could, thank you very much), but because he’d taken one look at your limp and decided for you.

"put me down, you overgrown—"

"shut up," he’d grumbled, arms tightening around you. "you shouldn’t be walking on that leg."

"it’s fine—"

"it’s bleeding."

"oh, so now you care about blood?"

he’d glared, but his grip had been careful.

then came the almost-confessions.

"you’re such an idiot," mark grumbled one night, pressing a gauze to the cut on your lip after you’d somehow managed to piss off an entire alien mob (in your defense, they’d started it).

"your idiot," you corrected, grinning through the sting.

his fingers stilled. his eyes—dark, intense, burning—locked onto yours.

for a heartbeat, you thought he’d argue.

then his thumb brushed your cheekbone, gentle, and he muttered, "obviously."

and that was the thing, wasn’t it?

mark grayson, with all his viltrumite pride, his superiority, his unshakable belief that he was better than everyone else…

…never treated you like you were beneath him.

if anything, he looked at you like you were his—his equal, his partner, his. like he’d already decided you’d rule the planet at his side.

(and the��scariest part?

you were starting to like the idea.)

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

then, the angst.

because this was mark. not just mark grayson—not just the arrogant, infuriating, beautiful boy who’d somehow carved a place for himself in your chest—but mark grayson, son of omni-man, a warrior to the viltrum empire.

and you knew.

you knew from the moment it all clicked—from the moment you finally remembered why that insignia on his shoulders made your stomach churn. you’d seen it before, burned into the hulls of warships that had glassed entire civilizations. you’d run from it as a child, though you hadn’t known why at the time.

when you’d confronted him, your voice barely steady, mark hadn’t lied. hadn’t hesitated and treated you like you were his equal. he’d looked you in the eyes, his fingers gentle around your wrist, and told you everything. about viltrum. about conquest. about your planet being next.

and like an idiot, like someone who’d forgotten their own damn rules, you’d accepted him.

"you ever think about just… leaving all this?" you asked one night, your voice too quiet in the space between you. the city sprawled beneath the hq roof, lights flickering like dying stars.

mark didn’t answer right away. his jaw worked, his fingers flexing against the ledge where he sat. you could see the war in his eyes—the viltrumite wrestling with something he’d never been taught to name. it's funny, you started thinking about him as a viltrumite more than as a human with superpowers now.

finally, softly: "no."

you laughed, sharp and brittle, the sound scraping your throat raw. "yeah. didn’t think so."

his hand found yours—squeezed, just once, just enough to make your breath catch. his palm was warm, his grip firm, like he was trying to anchor you. like he knew you’d spent your whole life running and was terrified you’d finally learned how.

(and maybe you should have. maybe the old you—the one who put safety first, who always had an exit strategy—would’ve already been halfway across the galaxy by now.)

but your fingers twined with his instead, holding on like you could somehow change the inevitable. that maybe, just maybe... he'd choose you—

mark exhaled, rough, his thumb brushing your knuckles. "stay," he murmured, the word more plea than order.

you closed your eyes.

(you always put yourself first.)

(so why did his empire feel like your undoing?)

3.4k words woohoo!! viltrum mark is lowkey up there in my favourites... like... there's no way i wouldn't have not written a one-shot for him. i'm just surprised he wasn't the first variant i wrote for. could have definitely done more for this one-shot and definitely could have done it better (i had a vision, but unfortunately i don't think i did it justice). will definitely write more for viltrum mark in the future heheh

[zorosangell]

I love your stories!! Maybe a Zoro x princess!reader would be interesting? She ran away and became a pirate of the crew, but she is still very formal and polite while Zoro is... Zoro 😂😂

⛥ﾟ・。 knight

synopsis: as a princess, you constantly have a bounty on your head, which means you are almost always under attack whenever the crew docks on an island. so, after zoro saves you from being kidnapped again, you both have a heart to heart... which ends in a little confession.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, reader talks very proper, reader's a little dense, zoro's a little emotionally constipated

"Get the princess!" the leader of the thugs shouted, swords drawn as the huge gang chased after you.

Hastily, Zoro attempted to cut a nearby corner, teetering to the side a little bit before he stabilized and continued to sprint down the street.

"What the hell were you thinking, huh?!" he panted, brows furrowed at he glanced at you, who was thrown over his shoulder. "I leave you alone for two seconds! And somehow you find a way to grab the attention of every damn criminal in town!"

"I was thirsty!" you exclaimed, defensively. "I thought I was going into a bar!"

"It was obviously a bounty hunter's nest!" he fired back.

"How was I supposed to know that?!"

"It was called the Killshot! And had a sign hanging outside with a picture of a gun!"

"I thought it was just a colorful theme!"

Zoro groaned, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he cursed whatever god that allowed this to happen yet again.

One of these days, he was gonna pretend he didn't see anything.

You were a princess, plain and simple, heir to the throne of some far off kingdom in the New World.

Ever since you were a little girl, you'd longed for adventure, not wanting your world to be confined to the walls of your castle, or the borders of your kingdom.

So, you promised yourself that the moment you turned eighteen, you'd run away.

And that's exactly what you did.

Though, in hindsight, it was probably not the best decision, as you had absolutely no idea how the outside world worked.

Still, somehow by fate or by fortune, your clueless self had managed to make it all the way to Loguetown, where the crew saved you from a few assassins.

Thus, you became the Strawhat's resident princess and diplomat.

And Zoro's resident pain in the ass.

Whenever the crew docked on a new island, you always insisted on exploring it yourself, excited to see the new sights and sounds.

And, like clockwork, you always found some way to call unwanted attention to yourself, the swordsman always finding himself in close proximity.

He had half the mind to think you did it on purpose.

Brows furrowed, his feet picked up speed, muttering intelligible things to himself.

'Princess be damned... no woman's worth this much trouble...'

Out the corner of his eye, Zoro peeped an alley not too far away, quickly running to duck inside it.

Dropping you to your feet, his strong hands grabbed your shoulders, yanking you into the shadows and covering your mouth as you let out a tiny yelp, eyes widening.

'Brute!'

You'd never been handled with such lack of care...

Back home, you were referred to as the Crowned Jewel of the Kingdom, known far and wide for your beauty and kindness.

Many often sang your praises, sending you buckets upon buckets of fan mail and writing songs about the prosperity your family had brought to the kingdom.

And the few that actually got to touch you did so with the utmost care, often reverently.

Meanwhile... this man talked to you as if you were an incompetent child, and tossed you around as if you were some sort of rag-doll.

Safe to say, it was quite the culture shock.

As the large group of men passed, Zoro tightened his grip on you, watching closely they examined the shops and stalls outside—some of them having split up to search quicker.

"Coulda sworn they were right here..." one of them grumbled under his breath, brows furrowed.

The dark-haired man paused, giving the space one more once over before turning to the others, sheathing his sword with an annoyed sigh.

"Looks like we lost 'em. Let's circle back to where we found 'em and see if that redhead knows anything."

Your eyes widened, knowing exactly who he was talking about.

"Nami!" you whimpered, forcing Zoro's calloused hand to press harder into your face to muffle the noise.

"Quiet," his deep, rough voice ordered, tone leaving no room for argument.

Suspicious, the man glanced in your direction, narrowing his eyes at the darkness as he looked directly at you—though he didn't know it.

Your heart stopped, your entire body freezing up as both you and Zoro stayed as still as statues, pressing firmer against the wall of the alley to avoid being revealed as he left.

And once he was completely one, you both let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders dropping as the tension finally oozed out your back.

"Are you stupid or something?" Zoro spat, curtly, brows furrowed. "You could've gotten us both caught!"

"I already expressed my apologies! It was not on purpose!" you countered, throwing your hands up in the air. "I simply wanted something to drink, but then those thugs just grabbed me! And did so without asking!"

Zoro let out another sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he hung his head.

You couldn't be serious...

"They're bounty hunters, (y/n)... they're not gonna ask permission to kidnap you."

"I'm afraid I just learned that firsthand," you huffed, a small pout gracing your lips and you leaned against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. "And after I was so generous... I even offered to negotiate the terms over lunch."

With a raised brow, Zoro leaned against the wall with you, confused.

"Terms?"

"A closed contract between me and all affiliates of the Killshot gang that would have guaranteed my continued residency with the Strawhat crew in exchange for a sum total of five-hundred million berries, paid monthly or in advance, depending on their preference."

The swordsman nearly choked on the air he was taking in, floored by the number you said so casually.

"Five-hundred million?!"

You nodded, plainly, confused by his surprise.

"Money is no object for my family. Especially pertaining to my safety," you shrugged. "I extend that offer to my friends, as well. Back at the auction house on Sabaody, I would have happily bought Camie to save her... but Sir Raleigh had already beat me to the punch."

Slowly, a small smile crept onto the swordsman's face, the rigidness in his stance slowly morphing into one more relaxed.

'Well, I'll be damned...'

It was moments like these that he enjoyed, as he was actually offered a glimpse at your true self.

The woman that an entire kingdom absolutely adored.

Princess (y/n).

Sure, you were hard-headed at times, and completely clueless when it came to social interactions outside of high society.

But you had heart, and generosity that quite literally knew no bounds.

Just... maybe some self defense lessons were needed.

"I gotta teach you some hand to hand if you're gonna keep goin' on these little expeditions," he sighed, clearing his throat as he glanced down at the ground.

"Combat?" you scrunched your nose. "What is the point of that when I have you?"

The gears in his head came to a screeching halt, his head snapping over to you so fast, you'd think he'd have whiplash.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You are a swordsman, are you not?" you raised a brow.

"Yes..."

"And you follow me around, yes?"

"I don't follow you around!"

The man flushed, face burning at your plainness.

"You are always there when I am in trouble."

"Yeah... well... that's 'cause I have shit luck..."

"But you care about me, right?"

Zoro froze, throat clamming up.

He had never been presented with questions like these before, and they were forcing him to think.

To read into why exactly he was always there whenever you called for help.

You were always within arms reach of him, the two of you seeming to just naturally float around each other, even as you did your daily routines.

And although you were far from his responsibility, Zoro couldn't understand why he felt the need to worry so much.

He knew million times over that the crew was capable of protecting you, and that if anything were to happen, Luffy or Sanji could more than adequately swoop in to your rescue.

But for some reason, reminding himself of that fact didn't subdue the concern that spiked in his chest when you left his line of sight, or the faint pang of panic in his breath.

'Dammit...'

Too many questions.

"I... yes," he answered, awkwardly.

Instantly, a warm smile broke out on your face, melting the swordsman's heart into a puddle on the floor.

"Then, that makes you my sworn sword!" you beamed, cheekily.

"Your sworn... what?"

"My sworn sword. My knight. My champion," you elaborated. "You stand by my side throughout my travels and keep me under your protection."

"I do WHAT?!"

"Is your hearing all right? You seem to be having a hard time processing what I am saying..."

"No, no... it's... it's not that..."

An uncomfortable silence suddenly settled over you both, the swordsman practically praying that the gang would come back so he could run you both back to the ship and escape the atmosphere.

You, on the other hand, had been feeling quite the opposite, wanting things to be settled right here and now.

Zoro had been your "crush"—lovingly dubbed by Nami—for over two years, and was the only person in the world that was consistently there for you, always rushing to your rescue without fail.

Despite his prickly exterior, and his sharp words, you could tell he was a kind, loyal, and compassionate man.

He just needed a little push.

Just then, the sound of running footsteps began to draw nearer to the mouth of the alley, your eyes shooting wide at the sound.

"Someone is coming!" you whispered, quickly turning to him .

Eyes doe wide, and breath quickened, you settled on something you'd read in a book once, hoping it would conceal your faces.

What possessed you to do it, you had no idea.

Pulling the man in by his robe, you smashed your lips into his, his eye shooting as wide as a saucer.

Everything had gone from zero to a hundred so fast.

Left was up.

Down was right.

But, in that moment, everything felt oddly right.

So, for the first time in his life, he caved, allowing his eye to flutter shut and his body to ease into the kiss.

Sliding your hands up, one of them cupped his face, while the other threw your arm around his neck, keeping him in place as he snaked his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss was electric, and, while very uncoordinated and eager, felt like liquid fire was coursing through your veins, pushing you forward.

Smoothly, the two of you shifted, Zoro pushing you up against the wall and tilting his head in order to get a better angle, deepening the kiss even further.

His hands gripped you even tighter, suddenly fearful he would float away if you didn't keep him grounded.

With your touch burning his skin and your scent flooding his nostrils, he felt like he was higher than the clouds, like this was heaven on earth.

Your lips were so damn soft...

Hell, you were so damn soft...

You washed over him like a wave of calm, the rhythm of the kiss lulling his worry-filled mind until the only thing he could think about was why the hell he didn't do this sooner.

"Aw, jeez! This is what you guys were doing all this time?!" Luffy exclaimed from the mouth of the alley, completely ruining the moment.

'Thats why...'

The two of you quickly threw yourselves off each other, faces burning with embarrassment as you looked in opposite directions.

"At least do that inside. You're gonna catch somethin' out here..." he shrugged, turning to walk away.

Your eyes shot wide, and you snapped your head over to the boy.

"Wait, Luffy, what did you think we were—?" "Don't wanna talk about it!"

"You idiot, we weren't—!" "M'not listening!"

You turned to the swordsman, brow raised in confusion.

"What is he talking about?"

Zoro's eye widened, and it finally donned on him that you hadn't been taught about... the birds and the bees.

'Christ...'

"I'll tell you another time," he sighed, talking your hand and leading you toward the exit of the alley. "Let's go back to the ship."

"Yes, of course!" you playfully bellowed. "Lead the way, knight!"

"I'm not your knight!"

"Whatever you say... knight..."