#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.

[buckrecs]

𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙮 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧

masterlist | s.s characters masterlist

God and His Angel by @navybrat817

God takes an angel for himself.

Gentle Sin by @navybrat817

You keep God company.

Call Out To Me by @mickeyhenrys

God loves hearing his angel call out for him.

He Knows Everything by @mickeyhenrys

A run-in with a stranger at the bar is about to make your day very interesting.

in another universe by @onceuponastory

One night, Y/N meets someone who’s about to change her life and everything she knows.

You Get What You Payed For by @navybrat817

[onceuponastory]

in another universe - god the bounty hunter x reader

Plot: One night, Y/N meets someone who’s about to change her life and everything she knows. Pairing: God the Bounty Hunter x Female!Reader (if you look hard enough) Warnings: Mentions of death/murder, guns/weapons and kidnapping. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: None of you say a fucking word 😂 seriously though, we get like a minute of Seb content from a cameo and I say “I can work with this” lmao. There’s no plot spoilers in this (bc I only watched those two cameos) Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own!

Wrapping her jacket around herself, Y/N leaves the bar where she’s spent most of the night. Alcohol still pools in her stomach, its warmth spreading throughout her body. She sighs contently. It’s been a good night, something she’s needed for a long time. And then she begins the walk home. Soon, someone falls into step behind her, matching their footsteps to hers. Even when she speeds up and slows down, the stranger matches her footsteps. Y/N registers her heartbeat rising. That’s strange. Hopefully she’s just imagining things, and that she’s not being followed. But as they continue down the street, the person’s footsteps still follow behind hers. As her mind races, Y/N tries to calm herself down. Because surely, this can’t be happening. She’s just overreacting.

“Sorry.” She murmurs, stepping aside to let the person behind her past, hoping they’ll soon be gone and she can head home with no more worries. But then, she feels something cold and hard pressing against the small of her back. Immediately, Y/N sobers up. Her breath hitches in her throat, and her heart stops. She already knows what it is, and what it means.

She’s about to die.

“Just keep walking.” A male voice orders, hot against her cheek. She does as the voice asks, too nervous to argue back. As they walk, she tries to pick up her pace a little, hoping that she’ll be able to slip away quick enough to not end up with a bullet in her back. But the man simply matches his pace with hers, digging the gun into her back even harsher. “Uh uh.” He tuts. Something is pressed into her neck then, and she yelps in pain. “Quiet.” Y/N immediately shuts up. “That is connected to my ring. One wrong move, and 50,000 volts will be sent through you. So you better do as I say.” He orders, and she nods. 

As he leads her through the streets, Y/N continues to think of what this man could possibly want with her. Of course, she has her ideas, but none of them are good ones. Before she can even engineer her next escape plan, the man leads her to a car. “Get in. We’re going for a drive.”

When the man gets in beside her, she manages to get a good look at him. He doesn’t look like she expected him to. For starters, his outfit makes him look more like an art student than a dangerous assassin, especially with the various bracelets covering his arms. Yet, Y/N finds herself wanting to ask him things, to know more about him, and especially why he chose to dress like this. That is, she would if he wasn’t pointing a gun at her while also threatening to electrocute her. Glancing over his face and his jawline, a light heat settles on her cheek. He’s kinda cute, in a way… and oh god, why is she thinking this about someone who’s kidnapping her? But then again, maybe in another universe, one where he isn’t trying to kill her… things would be different.

“What do you want with me?” She asks finally, as the man starts driving. A huff follows her question. “Okay, are you going to kill me, or are you just kidnapping me?”

“Most people don’t ask so many questions.”

“What, you kidnap people and expect them to stay silent, and not ask what the fuck is happening?” She snaps. “No, fuck that. Tell me what you want with me.” As silence fills the car once more, Y/N suddenly worries that she is about to be hit with all those volts that the man threatened for daring to talk back. Yet, to her surprise, the man simply chuckles as if impressed by her fire. 

“It’s not me who wants you, doll. I’m just the delivery driver.” He replies. She won’t lie, she quite enjoys being called doll by him. But then, the realisation hits her. 

“Oh god. Is this about Josh?” The man frowns.

“Who the fuck is Josh?”

“My stupid fucking boyfriend.” She huffs. Before they started dating, Josh used to be a petty criminal, stealing money and jewellery here and there. When she met him, though, he seemed to be doing better, and she helped get him back on the straight and narrow. And for the next couple of years, things were good. Sure, they had their arguments, but they were happy. Or at least, Y/N thought they were. A few nights ago, Josh came home freaking out because he ‘pissed off some dangerous people’. Although he didn’t go into specifics, from the terrified look on his face, Y/N knew it wasn’t good, and he’d fallen back into his old tricks. Or maybe he didn’t leave them behind at all. Maybe he’s been playing her this whole time, working his way up the criminal ladder whilst playing happy families with her. 

“All I got told was he owed my boss money, and when we tried to find him for payback, he had disappeared.” 

“So they sent you after me instead.” She murmurs. When the man nods, her entire body slumps forward, and she even begins shaking her head. Perhaps hoping that she convinces herself that this isn’t true. Hoping that it’s just a horrible nightmare, or even a twisted prank. But this is all very real. Something twinges deep in her stomach, and Y/N lets out a cry. He ran without telling her, and threw her to the wolves to clean up his mess. If she knew, she could’ve helped him. Or at least fled too. Tears start to fall, and she tries to wipe them away to no avail, as they keep coming even harder. Did she ever mean anything to him? Is he coming back for her… or is he gone forever? But she already knows the answer to that. He didn’t even bother to tell her the truth about what was going on, and fled before he could even face the music. Of course he’s not coming back for her. “God.” She sighs, burying her head in her hands. Her entire life these past few years has been nothing but a lie. 

And now, she’s just collateral damage. 

“I’m sorry.” The man speaks, causing her to raise an eyebrow. She looks back over at him, blinking in confusion as she waits for him to say something like ‘sorry I have to kill you’ or ‘sorry it’s come to this’ before putting her out of her misery. But nothing else comes. 

“What?” 

“I mean, I’m um- sorry you had to find out like this, with my gun pointed at your back.” He stammers, obviously overwhelmed by being the one to tell her that her boyfriend had left her to die. “I know I’m not really the most moral person, but that was a shitty thing for him to do.” And despite the tears still streaming down her cheeks, and how this man is most likely driving her to her death, Y/N feels something inside her flutter. In that moment, she appreciates his small glimpse of kindness more than he could ever know. 

“If you want ransom money from him, it’s not worth it. Just kill me.” She states with a shrug. “He didn’t even care enough to tell me what was going on, so there’s no way he cares enough to get me back. Knowing him, he’s probably in a whole other state right now, doing it all over again.”

“I’m not going to kill you. I’m under strict instructions not to harm you.” Y/N doesn’t reply, simply resting her head against the window. Honestly, she doesn’t care what happens to her now. As far as she knows, her life and relationship are over. She has nothing else to live for at this point.

Silence falls once more, neither willing to say anything to the other after that bombshell. The night sky soon envelops them, and Y/N feels herself slowly starting to fall asleep. A little part of her still hopes this is just a dream, that she’ll wake up back home and safe, not being driven to god knows where.

“What’s your name?” The man asks, cutting through her thoughts.

“Why do you care? I thought the others didn’t do so much talking.” The man shrugs.

“You’re not like the others.” Another flutter from deep inside her. Y/N tries to suppress it as much as she can. Maybe he’s lying to her, and he wants to know everyone’s name. Or maybe, after telling her that her boyfriend left her for dead, he wants to make her feel a little better. Although, maybe the flutter is because after the little snippet of kindness he showed her earlier… Y/N’s starting to feel more comfortable around him.

“It’s Y/N. Can I know your name?”

“I’m God.” Immediately, Y/N raises a brow. “What?!”

“Oh please, that is not your fucking name. Please don’t tell me you chose that.” 

“Obviously it’s not my real name. But nobody else gets to know my real name. And besides, it works, right? I saw it as meeting your maker kind of thing.” 

“It doesn’t. That’s so cheesy.” Y/N shakes her head, laughing to herself. As her peals of laughter fill the air, God rolls his eyes. 

“I’m going to let you off with that laughter because you’re sad.” He insists. “But no more, alright?” He warns.

“Thank you. That felt so good. I needed that.” She pants once she’s finally calmed down. It feels more like they’re two friends spending time together than a bounty hunter and the person he’s been sent to kidnap. A flicker of a smile crosses God’s lips. Although, he won’t lie... it’s a nice feeling. And besides, despite how annoying she’s being, hearing her laughter is a lot better than hearing her cries.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Tell me about your boss.” 

“I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can’t.” She sighs. The sound causes a pang in God’s heart. Obviously, he’s supposed to keep things about him and his boss quiet for safety. But after everything this poor woman has been through tonight, including realising just how much of an asshole her boyfriend is, surely the least he can do is tell her something. He’s a lot more firm and threatening to the others he’s taken. But Y/N, she’s different. The reason he’s kidnapping her isn’t her fault. Everyone else he was sent to deal with were assholes and scum of the earth, and he had no qualms about making sure they were dealt with. This, though, isn’t Y/N’s fault. None of it is. She didn’t ask for any of this, to have her life turned upside down because of the actions of her shitty boyfriend. In some way, God feels protective of her, and he doesn’t understand why. Maybe, she’s finally melting his heart of stone.

“He’s… nice I suppose? Or at least as nice as someone who orders bounty hunters after people could be.”

Maybe, in some other life, or some other universe, he and Y/N could be friends. It’s just a shame the way things work out. Sometimes, God wishes he could live another, normal life. One with a loving family or just someone to call his own. If only he made other choices before he got lost and went down this path, and turned to doing what he does as a way to tell the world to fuck off after it chewed him up and spat him out. He could’ve made something with his life. Something good.

Maybe he could’ve met someone like Y/N.

No. He couldn’t. That’s insane. He’s insane. He could never be a good person, especially not after what he’s done. The lack of sleep is making him go crazy or something. He’s just taking pity on Y/N because of what she’s been through. There’s no other meaning behind it. And besides, he likes this life. It’s been his for so long, he doesn’t know another way to live. Stupid fucking Y/N, making him think about his feelings. Thankfully, she’ll be out of his hair soon, and no longer his problem.

Although, as they approach the meeting point… deep down, God realises he might not be as ready to let go of Y/N as he thinks he is.

“Well. Here we are.” He announces, pulling up beside a row of rundown buildings. Y/N gulps. This is it. This is where she dies. “You know, I am sorry.”

“Mhm. You know, since I’m gonna die soon, I’m just going to say it. You aren’t so bad, God.” She admits. God scoffs.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N.”

“I’m not!” She insists. “I mean, sure, we didn’t get off to the best start, but you’re nicer than I thought you would be.” Her words make him smile, and he sighs. This is going to be even harder than he thought. “And besides, you could’ve killed me on the way over here, because let’s face it, I was being annoying. But you didn’t.” Honestly, he couldn’t. Not just because that’s not what he does as a bounty hunter… but because he just can’t. He can’t harm a hair on Y/N’s head. “I guess we better go then.” She announces, reaching out for the door handle.

“Y/N. Wait.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Do we wanna see more from these two?

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[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

[sweetiebarnes]

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.”

[peaches1958]

Yowsa

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...

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[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 - Demitrius

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 - coming soon

Yandere vampire victim - Lyra - coming soon

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Any suggestions on any kind of yandere is always welcome!

[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.”

[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

[onceuponastory]

god the bounty hunter - masterlist

Key: Fluff: 🌸 | Angst: 🌧️ | Smut:🩸 | Dark: 💀 | AU: 🌙  | Personal Favourite: 💖

Last Updated: April 23rd

SERIES

ONESHOTS

In Another Universe | 🌧️ | 🌸 ish | 💖 |

One night, Y/N meets someone who’s about to change her life and everything she knows.

[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.

[thezombieprostitute]

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