#i wore a mask and one of those like face covering things that’s like a ski mask

[blackvahana]

[prettyboysmlm]

I DID IT AND IM ALIVE

[sinner-as-saint]

scary? my god, you're divine

Hitman/Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Run-through: Your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? 

Themes: arranged marriage, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, bucky’s in his late thirties), mentions of violence and death, hitman!Bucky, smut, fluff, explicit language, virgin!reader, HEA

Something woke you up in the middle of the night. 

And you’d been staring at the dark ceiling above your bed for the past few minutes now. What had woken you up? It could’ve been the strong winds hitting the large Georgian windows. Or perhaps it was the soft ticking of the nearby clock. Or maybe even the weight of all the incessant thoughts running through your head. 

Gods, you thought, what a day. 

It had started out like any other. Your father was pacing around, worried and barking orders on the phone, trying to find a way to put a stop to this chaos that was quickly forming into a full war between him and his number one rival. Small attacks had turned to frequent drive-bys, threats had turned into taking turns and blowing up each other’s warehouses and clubs. And it would only get worse and worse. 

But this morning, as he watched you come downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast, something in his eyes was different. And you could tell what was coming. You had been thinking about this for days. So when he sat you down and discussed how you could do your part in helping to put an end to all of this. 

“It’s only a matter of time before he sends his son, his favourite weapon after us all,” Your father sounded defeated. “And none of us would survive him. No one ever does. You know that.” 

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “I know.” 

The son of your father’s rival, Bucky Barnes, was a name which could make even powerful men like your father tremble in fear. He was like a ghost. No one ever saw him. No one knew what he looked like. Those who had seen him claimed that he always wore a muzzle-like mask to conceal his identity. He was known for being his father’s most prized weapon. They say he never misses, that his aim is and has always been as sure as Eros’ arrows. He was like an evil Cupid. 

“The marriage would only be on paper of course, you don’t have to live with him.” Your father explained, seeming desolated, “But you being married to him would make us family, and…” He trailed off, sighing. 

But you knew what he meant. Family meant everything in this society. If your family and the rival’s were joined to each other by marriage, all attacks would cease. Because keeping family safe was everyone’s number one priority, even in this line of work. 

So this was all up to you now. Your family’s safety, the safety of people who worked with and for your father, all the allies, and friends, and acquaintances. It was a heavy weight to carry. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Things happened so quickly after that. Phone calls were had, arrangements and deals were made, and by the afternoon, a sheet of paper was brought to you. That’s it. No groom, no fancy shit. Just a piece of paper on which Bucky Barnes had already signed. And with your signature added next to his, you two were now forever husband and wife by law. 

It was weird, being married to a man you had never seen before. He was just a name. Granted, a name with immense magnitude in the society, but still just a name. No face to go with it. 

By the evening, your things were packed. It was an order by your new husband. He wanted his new bride in his home, and things were so freshly mended that neither you nor your father wanted to argue. So Bucky sent cars and a bunch of his soldiers to escort you to his house. It was not unexpected that he was so absent from all this. Bucky Barnes had a reputation of living in the shadows. He was so rarely seen.

Bucky’s house was not too far from your family home. In fact, the closer you got to your new home, the more you realised that despite everything, you did not mind this as much as you thought you would. 

Your husband’s home was this stunning piece of architecture. A lavish Georgian-style mansion. Beige stone, carved details and mouldings around the many windows and main entrance. Dark shingles on the roof, well-manicured lawn, a long driveway giving it a sense of both elegance and exclusivity. The mansion sat on a beautiful, seemingly endless estate. Lush and green. It was a testament to the wealth and the power of its owner. 

You were politely led inside the home by one of the many staff members who took care of the house. And the interior was just as breathtaking. Luxurious, with the right amount of vintage accents. 

“We did what we could with the limited time we had to prepare a room for you.” The kind lady had said to you. She also mentioned that this room would be entirely yours. Bucky apparently had his own on the other side of the mansion. 

You murmured that it was alright, and when she finally showed you to the room they had ready for you, you were pleasantly impressed. The layout, the colour theme, the decor, all of it was to your liking. You even had a personal little balcony which looked over the endless green backyard. 

That night you dined alone, which was not a surprise. Everyone knew Bucky Barnes was a busy man, and he was apparently above trivial things like dining with his new wife. But the silence was welcomed. After dinner you found yourself back in your bedroom, and soon in bed with a book. 

Well, maybe this was your new life now. Grand mansion with an impressive library. Solo dinners and kind staff members. A giant, dreamy bedroom all for you. Dare you say, it wasn’t too bad. 

–

But here you were now, unable to fall back asleep after some mysterious thing woke you up. You sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You couldn’t even blame your new surroundings for your inability to sleep. Everything here was so quiet, and comfortable. Even this new bed felt like laying on the fluffiest cloud. Perhaps you could read some more–

You froze when you heard it. 

Someone breathing. Someone else’s breaths. A soft exhale, but it was enough to make your heart race in panic. It was the middle of the night. And there was someone in this dark room with you. 

Slowly, you tried to reach for the lamp on your bedside table to turn it on, but then you heard a voice say, “Don’t.” 

A smooth, relaxed, male voice. Sounding like it came from one corner of the room. It could only be one man, couldn’t it? 

“Bucky?” You questioned, for some reasons pulling the covers up to your chin as if he was not a man but a ghost. 

A pause, then he said, like he was gently teasing you, “Hello, wife. Can’t sleep?” 

You blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness better. You strained your eyes until you could see the silhouette of a man in the corner of the room. He was sitting in one of the sofas near the unlit fireplace, quiet, still like a marble statue. 

There was almost no light coming into the room. The thick curtains allowed very little moonlight in, and it was hard to see. But you couldn’t ignore that large silhouette now that you’d noticed him. Something near him was shiny, almost metal like, you couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Do you always lurk around in the shadows like a ghost?” You asked, wondering where the hell you found the confidence to talk to one of the finest hitmen like this. It’s not like he would shoot you if he didn’t like you. A small voice said. Would he? 

A chuckle. Deep, and careless. A boyish sound. 

“It’s my house,” He responded in that same gentle but teasing tone, “I lurk wherever I please.” 

Well, he did have a point there. 

“Well then,” You said in a casual tone, “If you’re done lurking and spying on me, I’d like to go back to bed.” 

A soft scoff. Then he said, “I’ve watched you toss and turn for the past half an hour. I’d say you’re having trouble turning your brain off.” 

Half an hour?! 

“Wouldn’t you?” You retorted, keeping your voice calm and steady. “If you were forced to marry someone who’s so mysterious that no one’s ever seen them before, wouldn’t you have some trouble turning your brain off?” 

“Ah.” He got up, and you could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was approaching the bed, “No one forced you to marry me. A suggestion was made and you agreed to it.” 

You replied quickly, “The alternative was watching everyone I love and myself be murdered by you, so semantics.” 

Another chuckle as he stopped at the edge of the bed, so close to you. You refused to move. You tilted your head up but could still only see his silhouette. He spoke in that teasing tone again, “They said you were smart, and beautiful. Guess they forgot to mention you were bratty too.” 

You frowned. “What?” 

Silence. Then he began moving away from your bed and towards the door. “Good night, wife.” 

“Good night,” You muttered, slightly annoyed and confused, “Ghost.” 

You heard his soft chuckle right as he shut the door behind him and left you all alone again in the dark. You didn’t dare turn the lamp on even after he left. 

— 

“Is Bucky ever home?” 

You asked one of the staff members at breakfast the next morning. The lady smiled at you and answered, “He keeps to himself. We rarely ever know if he’s home or not. He works at odd hours, you see? Besides, our job is to take care of the house. We clean, we make the meals and leave them in the fridge, we get our paychecks each month. Everyone is happy. We don’t pry.” 

You nodded, sipping on some tea. “So… are you one of the people who don’t know what he looks like?” 

“Oh no. I saw him recently.” She said, smiling. 

“How recent?” You asked. 

“A couple of months ago. He’s a busy man, he’s rarely ever home.” 

Unbelievable. 

“Doesn’t it feel like you’re employed by a ghost?” 

She smiled again, refilled your cup and said, “Oh, we’re used to Mr. Barnes. Sure, sometimes it feels like the house is way too empty. But look, now you’re here! We get to take proper care of someone for once.” 

She was so cheery and kind that you couldn’t help but smile at her words. How on earth did a man that grim manage to have the best staff members in the whole world? 

— 

The following night, Bucky came to see you again. 

You woke up upon hearing the door of your bedroom opening. You sat up again, leaning against the headboard. You didn’t reach for the lamp on your bedside table this time. Instead you said, “Lurking again, I see.” 

“Oh yes,” He answered, taking a seat on the same sofa by the dark fireplace. “How was your day, wife?” He asked, as if this was the most normal way to have a conversation. 

“Good.” You said, “I spoke with your staff members. They say they barely ever see you at home.” 

He sighed, “I barely ever am at home.” 

You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it. He was too… intangible. Faceless. There was nothing you knew about him aside from his profession. And not knowing was starting to annoy you. 

“Why can’t I see you?” You asked. “I mean it’s not fair. I married you. I’ll eventually see you someday.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then asked, “Will you?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“What for?” There was that teasing tone again. So subtle. But it was there. 

Your face burned. “Well… we’re married.” You stated the obvious. “And it won’t be long till our families start asking for, you know, grandbabies.” 

“Babies can be made in the dark.” His smooth voice felt like a gentle caress. Like the finest, cool silk sliding over your warm body… 

Oh no. You can’t like his voice. Not yet. 

“That’s not what I–,” You sighed, “Why are you so against showing your face? Are you ugly?” 

He chuckled then. Loudly, if you could see him you’d surely see his shoulders shaking. “You think too much, wife.” He got up again, ready to leave. “Good night.” 

You sighed, defeated, and listened to the sounds of him leaving the room. Then almost angrily whispered, “Good night, husband.” 

—

“It’s because he’s ugly, isn’t it?” You asked two of the staff members one morning while they set the table for your breakfast. “That’s why he doesn’t show his face?” 

The two ladies chuckled to themselves, and one of them said, “No he isn’t.” She sounded confident too. 

“Have you seen his face? Like properly?” 

They both nodded. 

“And? You don’t find it weird that he doesn’t show his face?” You questioned. “He refuses to let me see him. He only comes to talk to me in the dark. Like some messed up Eros.” You whispered the last part to yourself. 

One of the ladies said, gently, “Give him time. He’s not… terrible.” 

— 

“Your staff speaks highly of you.” You said to him when he came to see you that night. Again, sat in that corner like a ghost whose only purpose was to haunt your bedroom specifically. 

“Do they?” 

“Yes,” You made yourself comfortable, leaning against the headboard like you had the habit of doing. “Do you pay them to sing your praises?” 

He chuckled. “Is it that hard to believe that I’m not some sort of monster?” 

You sighed. “If not then why can’t I see you?” 

“Not yet.” He said. 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so.” He replied, and by the sounds of it, he stood up. Surely ready to leave. “Now, is there anything you need?” 

You tried to see if you could tell where he was standing but the room was too dark. However, it seemed like, judging by the sound of footsteps, that he’d gotten closer to the end of your bed. “There’s nothing to do around the house. The ladies take care of everything. I appreciate the library, but…” 

He was quiet, like he was thinking. Then said, “I’ll see to it.” 

“I’m assuming you won’t let me go back to work in my family’s companies.” You could tell he wouldn’t. 

“No,” He said, as expected. “You’re my wife now. I’m well equipped to provide for you and see to your needs for the rest of our lives. But if you have any hobbies, please, indulge away.” 

Something about his calm tone made you confess your little secret, “I like to paint. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.” 

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. Perhaps the dark helped you open up better. Maybe the fact that you didn’t know him made it easier to talk. Like how people tend to prefer texting over calls. Him being so invisible made it so much more effortless. 

You continued, “I always wonder what it must be like to have an exhibition of my works.” You chuckled. “I know it sounds vain but… I’ve always wanted to let my mind and soul leak all over canvases, and share it with the world. I think it’s such a brave thing when people do that.” 

He was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke in that teasing tone, “Painting, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get to make fun of me, ghost.” 

He chuckled. “Get some sleep, wife.” 

And then he left. 

— 

The following morning, you woke up to two surprises. 

The first one was waiting for you at the breakfast table. You noticed the box on the floor immediately. It was partially opened, and had a note stuck to it. 

The note read: ‘Since there’s nothing to do around the house…’ written in a messy handwriting. Surely Bucky’s. 

You opened the box and in there, on a folded blanket, was a sleeping, fluffy little puppy. A black lab it seemed. With a pink collar around her neck. You gasped as you gently picked it up and couldn’t resist bringing it up to your face. Puppies always smelt so good. 

The little one yawned and let out some cute noises as you held her up to look at her properly. By now the two ladies whom you saw frequently around the house walked up to you and one of them said, “He left something else for you.” 

You followed the ladies, new puppy in hand, and they led you to what seemed like a newly built studio. It was in an area of the mansion where you didn’t go very often. And as you walked in, you gasped in surprise for the second time that morning. 

It was located on the ground floor. A bright and spacious space. The beige walls felt like a giant blank canvas in itself. The large Georgian windows allowed the perfect amount of light in. And everything in the room was neatly organised. Art supplies, paints, canvases, palettes, easels. 

Oh, it was perfect. 

The ladies left you to explore on your own, saying something about bringing you breakfast in here. But you were distracted by the bright yellow sticky note on one of the easels. You walked up to it and it read: ‘For your mind and soul to leak all over. Paint me something. I’ll consider it a wedding gift.’ 

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read and re-read the note left by your mysterious husband. You whispered to your sleeping puppy, “Maybe our ghost isn’t so bad, huh?” 

-

Hours went by. 

The ladies brought you and the puppy your meals, a bed for the pup, snacks for you, all while you were busy letting your creativity flow as much as possible. 

The first few canvases were horrible according to you. You hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in so long so it felt like day one all over again. But gradually, over the next few canvases, you could see what your brain was trying to create. 

The blank canvas soon turned into flowy shapes. Curves, facial features, hands. Entwining bodies. Two of them. And the colour purple, lots of it. It didn’t make too much sense at first, but the more you worked on it the more you realised what you were painting. 

It was your version of ‘The Abduction of Psyche’. How fitting. 

By the time you were done and happy with it, your back was aching from sitting on that stool all day. It was almost time for dinner. The sun had set. The puppy was awake so you held her up to show her the canvas and asked, “You think our ghost will like it?” 

She let out the tiniest, softest howl. 

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

You left to shower and have dinner. Then once it was time for bed you asked one of the staff members, “Does Bucky have some kind of an office?” 

She replied saying yes he does, and that she could show you where it was. You grabbed the not yet dry canvas and carefully carried it all the way to where Bucky’s office was. The lady again left you all by yourself to explore. 

At first you didn’t want to spend too much time in there. It was Bucky’s space after all. But then you thought, if he was comfortable walking into your bedroom at odd times during the night, why shouldn’t you check out his office? 

So you did. You left the canvas where it could dry without any problem and where Bucky would see it upon entering the room. Then you began exploring. The room was not what you were expecting for someone like Bucky. You thought it would be less… old school. 

He had a vintage looking typewriter on his desk for gods’ sake. Not one he used of course, but it added layers to his character you thought. Dark wooden furniture, comfortable looking chairs, more bookshelves filled with cloth-bound books. It was… cosy. 

So cosy in fact that you grabbed a book and made yourself comfortable on one of the chairs. You’d read for an hour or so then head off to bed, you thought. 

But soon, you drifted off to sleep. Right there. In Bucky’s office. 

-

You woke up and felt something soft and fluffy moving around on your lap. You opened your eyes and quickly realised you weren’t in bed. The room was dark. With very little light coming in from the outside. There were no curtains in this room, but also it was situated in an area of the mansion where very little moonlight came in.

Before you could panic though, a voice spoke up from not too far away, “You’ve been busy today, I see.” 

Ah, Bucky. And fuck. You’d fallen asleep in his office. 

You refused to feel embarrassed. So you asked, “Did you like your wedding gift?” 

“Yes.” He replied, and gauging by the sound you could tell he was sitting at his desk, in the darkest corner of the room. “I’ll hang it in my office.” 

You smiled in the dark, feeling a little proud of yourself. “And where’s my wedding gift?” 

“In your lap.” 

Fair. 

“What should we name her?” You asked, reaching to caress your puppy who let out an adorable grunt. “Hedone? Donnie, for short?” 

He let out a chuckle. “You are really leaning into this whole Eros-Psyche thing, huh?” 

You shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d just show me your face. But you keep choosing not to, so deal with it.” 

A pause. Then he asked, “You like your new studio?” 

That made you sit up straighter. “I love it. Thank you.” Then you added, “My family always thought painting was a waste of time. They said it kept my head in the clouds too much. That it was… pointless.” 

He was quick to say, “It’s not. Besides, your hobbies don’t have to make sense to anyone else but yourself. And I’ve seen the other canvases you left in the studio. They’re good.” 

You turned to face the dark corner he was in. “You think?” 

“Yes,” He said. “We can hold an exhibition if you want. Let me know when you’re ready.” 

You let out a surprised chuckle. And when he didn’t laugh you realised he was serious. “Bucky, it's not so easy.” You explained calmly. “There’s so much work that goes into it, there needs to be some cohesion to the art pieces. There’s marketing, there’s research, there’s…” You exhaled, “There’s a lot of work to be done. Art exhibitions aren’t as easy or quick as you think it is.” 

He replied, “Leave all that to me. Just let me know when you want to hold one.” 

Just like that? 

“I… okay.” 

You felt warm in a way you’d never felt before. No one had ever taken your interests so seriously before. You’d never even been able to discuss this freely about your hobbies. And here Bucky was, ready to listen and interact with it. 

You got up to leave because this was… a lot to process. “Well then. Good night, Bucky.” 

A soft scoff. “Think I liked it more when you called me a ghost.” 

You smiled as you approached the door, puppy in hand and amazed at how well you were able to navigate in the dark. “Night, ghost.” 

He gave you a satisfied hum, then, “Good night, wife.” 

— 

It was bizarre to admit but you’d gotten used to those conversations in the dark with your husband. Days went by quickly given how engrossed you were with painting. Especially with the thought of a potential exhibition now in the back of your mind. Gods, that would be a dream. 

And while your days consisted of painting, playing and training your puppy, exploring more and more of the grounds and your new home, making quick trips to the stores to get more supplies, catching up with your friends who were still trying to grasp the fact that you got married so quickly, getting to know the household staff and the guards better, your night consisted of waiting and fighting your sleep until Bucky came to talk to you. 

It was always short conversations. Filled with easy banter and teasing tones, sarcastic comments and you asking each and every night if he was in the mood to show his face. Bucky always said no. And you always sent him off with a ‘good night, ghost’. 

You had gotten used to your ghost. As had your puppy. She would bark happily each time Bucky would enter your bedroom door at night. She’d run to him for playtime and cuddles as he sat in his dark corner and spoke with you until you fell asleep. 

Bucky would often leave you some kind of a note, for you to read in the morning. At the breakfast table, or in your studio. Sometimes he would leave compliments and comments on your dry canvases. Eventually, you stopped fighting the smiles which formed on your face as you read his notes. 

But all of it only made you want to see him more. Not that it would change anything. Bucky had quickly become… a friend, you’d say. A confidant if you will. He had become a habit. Part of your routine. 

And then one night, he didn’t come to see you. 

You waited. He usually came around midnight. It was well past 2 a.m. and he never came. 

At some point you went downstairs, pretending as if you just needed some water. One of the guards caught you trying to peek out into the driveway from the kitchen window. 

“Boss is not home yet, ma’am.” He said. 

You acted like you didn’t care. But still asked, “He does this often?” 

“Sometimes.” 

You nodded. You took your drink and with your puppy in your arms you walked back upstairs, passing by the many guards who were on duty inside the house at nighttime. 

“It’s alright, he’s probably just busy.” You whispered to the sleeping pup as you made your way up. “Or maybe he’s hurt and tending to his wounds somewhere else.” You felt a gentle pinch in your chest at the thought of Bucky hurt and alone out there. So you forced yourself to think of something else. Something way worse. “Or maybe he’s with someone else.” You scoffed, nuzzling the soft fur of your pup, “This marriage means nothing to him anyway. But that’s alright, we don’t need him. I’ve got you. We’ve got each other. Don’t we?” 

Safe to say, you went to bed slightly annoyed that night. And in denial too because you refused to admit that you missed him. 

– 

There was a note waiting for you in your studio the next morning. 

It read: ‘No I did not spend the night with someone else. I’ll explain later. See you tonight, wife.’ 

Huh. Looks like the guards have really good ears. 

Well, whatever. It’s not like you were impatiently waiting for night to come just so you could talk to your ghost of a husband. Right? 

Except you were though. So much that you couldn’t paint a decent thing. You were easily giving up on each canvas, and leaving a trail of unfinished work the more time went on. 

Eventually you sighed and left the studio. You tried reading but that wasn’t happening either. So you did the only thing you knew would take your mind off things. You asked the ladies to show you where everything was kept in the kitchen and you got to baking. 

Which you did until it was time for bed. Your mood was off, and it was all because of a faceless man. And that somehow annoyed you even more. 

You grabbed a plate of the mini muffins you’d made earlier and made your way upstairs. Your puppy had just gotten used to the stairs so she happily followed you everywhere you went now. 

You proceeded to sit in bed, and eat your muffins angrily and forced yourself to try to sleep. 

-

You woke up sometime later. And you just knew who was in the room with you. 

Except he wasn’t in his usual spot. 

He was standing by the windows which faced your bed this time, with his back to you. The curtains were pulled, the moonlight came and there was his dark silhouette. And… you frowned as you noticed the shiny metal arm. 

“You’re home.” You said. 

Bucky turned his head to the side, “I am.” He said. 

You took a second or two to admire the side profile. With the moonlight shining all around his silhouette he looked like a fallen angel of sorts. “You didn’t come home last night.” 

“I was out working,” He said. 

“Maiming and killing?” 

“You know me so well.” 

“Is that a… metal arm?” You questioned. 

“It is.”  

“Were you hurt?” 

“I was.” 

You sighed again. “Is it always going to be bland answers and mystery with you?” 

“Get used to it.” He said in that teasing tone. 

You got out of bed as quietly as you could. “I think I liked you better without the attitude, when you sat in the corner like a ghost.” You took some steps away from the bed, approaching the giant windows. The room was rather spacious so it would take some more steps to get close to him. If you’d only– 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” He warned, but remained in the same spot. 

You groaned. “Don’t you think this is getting tiring? I mean, I’m married to a man I’ve never seen before. In fact, no one has ever seen you. Why? What are you hiding?” You added, sounding defeated.  

Bucky lowered his head, which only accentuated how broad his shoulders really were. He sighed. “Do you know how much trouble could’ve been avoided if only Psyche trusted Eros?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think she had her reasons. A mysterious, faceless lover who only shows up in the dark and hides in the shadows is bound to raise some doubts. Don’t you think so?” 

He chuckled. You blinked and he’d turned around to face you. But despite that, you couldn’t see his face at all. Even though he was inches away. 

He was quiet. Observing you with interest. The moonlight allowed him to see all of you, and he just… stared for a moment or two. A shiver ran down your back. An unfamiliar, but pleasant shiver. 

Without a word said, Bucky reached out and gently touched the thin strap of your silky night dress resting on your shoulder. His metal finger gliding along your skin and making you gasp at his cold touch. 

“What’s this?” He asked in his usual teasing tone. “Trying to tempt me with this excuse of a night dress, wife?” 

Fuck. Had his voice dropped lower? 

Fuck! He was so close to you. You didn’t even notice that your heart had begun racing. Your breaths had deepened. Shit. Why was this so hot?! 

“Are you? Tempted?” You asked with a steady voice, without thinking obviously. You just needed to say something so he wouldn’t notice the way you were basically panting after him like a thirsty dog. 

He chuckled. But remained quiet. 

So you said, “Thought so.” You sounded smug but you were feeling the complete opposite. 

Bucky scoffed in that arrogant way he often did. It was insane how easily you were able to pick up on his mannerism when you hadn’t even known him for that long. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to sleep with you?” 

Oh. 

Oh this was bad. Because now your brain was making up hot, steamy scenes in your head. Scenes involving you and your faceless, mysterious husband in the dark. Entwining bodies on soft bed sheets. Fuck, you should paint that. No, what?  

“Then why haven’t you?” You found yourself asking. 

Okay then, bold as fuck it is. You’d gone past the point of no return now. Guess it was time for this conversation. 

Bucky’s fingers remained on your shoulder, tracing the thin strap there. And you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smirk in his voice when he asked, “You want me to?” His metal hand dropped to your waist and before you could fully process it, he pulled you closer, leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You want my hands all over you, wife?” 

You could feel his slight stubble against your skin as he spoke. His lips brushing against your ear, making you gasp and tremble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders. And oh, he was pulling you even closer. Your chest pressing against his. The cool material of his suit felt amazing against your warm skin. 

“Look at you,” He cooed into your ear. “Is this what you want? Hmm?” He placed both his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. His lips moved lower, brushing against your neck as he spoke. “You like how rough my hands feel?” He moved his hands up and down your sides. “Do you know how many people I’ve hurt with these hands?” He chuckled when he heard the tiniest moan leave your mouth. “You’re so soft and warm, aren’t you worried what these hands might do to you?” 

He nuzzled your neck, hands roaming all over your sides and back and squeezing your butt. You became so pliant under his touch. Tilting your head back to allow him to kiss all over your neck, pressing your chest more and more against his like you couldn’t get enough. The layers of clothing, you wanted them gone. 

With a shaky voice you murmured, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to scare me or turn me on.” 

He laughed. And it was the best sound you’d ever heard. 

“You’re sick in that pretty head, huh?” He teased. “That beautiful brain is filled with filthy, dirty, dark thoughts, isn’t it?” His metal hand reached up and carefully wrapped around your throat. 

You gasped as he squeezed just a little bit. Those dirty thoughts he spoke about really started to fill your head. 

“Are you just all talk or–,” 

He cut you off by dragging you all the way to your bed, still holding you by the throat. 

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he gave you a slight push, ending with you falling onto your bed on your back. You looked up at him, hovering above you, his lower body pressing into yours. 

“Do you just run that mouth?,” He asked, supporting himself with one hand while the metal one remained wrapped around your throat, his voice low and menacing but in a way that made your legs part on their own so his hips settled in between them. Your bodies fit together like the most perfect puzzle pieces. “Or do you know how to take it like a brat as well?” 

You felt the need to let him know then. “I don’t know,” You said, sounding both breathless and bratty. “I’ve never had to take it.” 

He paused for a moment. Then asked in subtle surprise, “What do you mean?” Even his grip around your throat loosened completely. 

You squirmed in slight embarrassment but that only caused your hips to grind against his and for a moment there both of you let out a strained moan. Fuck. The tension between the two of you was almost physical now. Even in the dark, even with Bucky being nothing more than just a shadow above you. 

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, still feeling his cold fingers all over your skin, “I’ve never been with anyone before.” 

He was quiet. As if thinking. You tried your hardest but you couldn’t see any of his facial features. You knew he had a slight stubble because you’d felt it earlier. But aside from that, you knew nothing. Not even his eye colour. 

“You want us to stop?” He asked, shifting his body slightly as if he was ready to pull away if you asked him to. 

“No,” You answered way too quickly. Then you got bold again and let your hands find their way back to his shoulders. You pulled him down, closer to you just a little and said, “This is okay.” 

His fingers moved up, from your neck to your mouth. “Yeah? You want this, huh?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his fingers. You shivered under his touch. “You’ve been a whiny little brat lately, haven’t you, wife? Pouting and all just because I wouldn’t show myself to you.” He whispered, leaning in to just brush his lips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his soft lips rubbing against yours. Bucky chuckled at your reaction. “Don’t think my staff doesn’t report back to me. I’ve been well aware of all the times you asked the ladies to give you details about me.” 

Now that made you squirm in embarrassment. Still you said, sounding a little annoyed at being caught. “Can you blame me?”

“Can’t you just trust me?” He argued. 

The danger and authority in his tone had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the torturous pain in between your legs. You were almost certain you had never been this turned on and annoyed at the same damn time before. You sighed in frustration. “This isn’t fair.” 

“No, it isn’t,” He said, pulling away and began undressing you to your pleasant surprise. “Deal with it.” 

Oh fuck. 

Fuck… You had to hold back from whimpering each time his hands rubbed against your skin. He took his time in sliding the straps of your night dress down your shoulders, dragging the silky fabric down your body, leaving you more and more naked under him. 

You shivered once he left your night dress bunched around your waist carelessly. It wasn’t just because of the slightly cold air. It was because even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was staring right at you. 

You spoke in a hushed voice, not daring to speak loud in fear that it might break whatever spell you were under. “So you get to see me naked all you want, but I can’t see your face?” 

He chuckled. “You want me to leave this room right now? Leave you here all wet and squirming? Or do you want me to take care of it and make you come? Huh?” 

That shut you up really quickly. 

“I thought so.” He sounded smug again when he said that. “I should spank you for the brat you are. But since it’s your first time… I’ll be nice.” 

His hands touched you everywhere, your thighs, your stomach, your sides, your chest, your neck… everywhere. He left you gasping and trembling under him. 

“Please.” You caught yourself whispering. 

Bucky leaned down, his soft mouth brushing against your cheek as he said, “Please what?” 

You squirmed, “Touch me, please.” 

He chuckled. You felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your naked body. “Look at you,” He murmured, lips brushing against your stomach, ���You’re so eager already.” 

You heard the faint chuckle which left his mouth the moment he noticed your legs spread apart for him naturally. Your face felt like it was burning but fuck, you were too turned on to even be properly embarrassed. Also, being in complete darkness helped. 

Damn. You were really getting intimate with your husband whom you hadn’t even seen yet. And somehow that fact was making you want this even more. 

But that mystery stopped being an issue the moment Bucky leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.

He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than before. Back arching off the bed as you let out a soft moan at the foreign feeling. Fuck he felt good. You whimpered as you felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. Your immediate reaction was to pull your hips back from the overwhelmingly good sensation his mouth was causing. And that made him grip your thighs tighter, keeping them pinned to the bed. 

“Stop moving.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble. 

You whined as you felt his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to his mouth. The metal hand on your warm skin made you shiver and tremble so much that you were thankful for the darkness. 

The small amount of moonlight which came in allowed you to only see the silhouette of his broad shoulders, and his head moving slowly, sensually in between your legs. Fuck… somehow the mystery only made it hotter.

Oh you were fucked in the head for real. 

And oh, Bucky was a fucking tease. Once he noticed how easily you cried out and moaned for him, he slowed down and began kissing around your clit just to purposely mess with you. He kissed your thighs, purposely avoiding touching where he knew you needed him the most. He kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin around your inner thighs. 

“Bucky, please!” You cried out, hand reaching for his hair. When you managed to grab a fistful of his soft hair, you gave it a gentle tug. “Stop teasing me.” 

“You don’t get to give me orders, wife.” He said, sounding all proud and mighty. “I could just walk out of here and leave you like this. Naked and squirming.” 

“Please,” You begged again. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you. 

A scoff. Then he leaned in again. You whined and whimpered under him, with your legs wrapped around his head. Fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp instinctively as he flicked, and sucked, and teasing your clit as much as he could. 

“You’ve been a brat because you wanted your husband’s attention so badly, huh?” He taunted. “Is that what you wanted? Just my attention?” He chuckled. “You’re as calm as a happy kitten now, aren’t you?” 

His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of. You wanted more of him. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” You murmured, throwing your head back, moaning as he kept teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 

“Come for me, wife.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. 

You couldn’t even hold on for much longer, and ended up coming undone all over his tongue. Heart racing, legs trembling in his grip as you came. Your moans were soft and incessant. 

Fuck… that felt amazing. 

You had barely gotten your heart to stop racing, and Bucky was already standing up and in the dark you couldn’t see very well but it did look like he was moving away from the bed. 

“You’re leaving?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from sounding a little upset at his departure. 

All he said was, “Good night, wife. See you tomorrow.” 

You scoffed after he shut the door behind him, leaving you in darkness yet again. “Ghost.” 

— 

That night ended up being the first of many. 

Your days consisted of painting, and finally finding a flow in most of your pieces. Perhaps if you’re able to make a decent collection, you could start thinking about the exhibition seriously, you thought. When you weren’t painting you were either training your rapidly growing puppy, or baking. You’d begun taking your puppy out for walks around the mansion, consequently doing some more exploring of the grounds. 

After all that, each night you’d get in bed and wait for Bucky. It became part of your routine. And each night with him was different. He’d spend his time touching you slowly until you were purring for him like a kitten. Kissing you all over your body in the dark. Making you come all over his tongue and fingers. Kissing you until you moaned and pulled him closer just to feel his weight pressing down on you. 

But he would always leave after making you come. And you two never actually fucked. Neither would he let you make him come. 

On nights when he wouldn’t make it home, you’d worry yourself to sleep. But then each morning you’d find a note from him either in your studio or the breakfast table. He would always say some cheesy shit. And he would always promise to come see you later that night. 

On nights when you two didn’t engage in anything sexual, it was still just as fulfilling. Bucky would tell you things about his work, his past, his family. You learnt that he was over a decade older than you, and teased him about being an old man until he pinned you to the bed and tickled you until you couldn’t breathe. 

You learnt that he liked to keep to himself and stay as far away from his family as possible. He liked peace and quiet, which would explain his lovely home being here away from most people. 

The more you learned about him, the easier it was to grow fond of him. But the more you grew fond of him, the greedier you got. You wanted more. More of his time, his touch, his attention, and most of all, you wanted to see him. 

The mystery, while hot as fuck, was killing you. 

—

One night, things changed. 

Bucky came into your room as usual. He’d gotten bolder lately, he wouldn’t sit in the corner like a ghost anymore, instead he would find his way to your bed and only leave that bed after making you come hard. 

Tonight started out the same way.  

You felt his hands all over you as he pulled you closer to him under the covers. You giggled as he bit and licked that one sensitive spot on your neck. Your fingers had a habit of finding themselves in his hair. It was insane how easily you’d gotten used to being with him in the dark. How easily you could find his mouth with your own. How easily you’d find your way into his arms. 

It was weirdly comforting. His warmth, his voice, his touch. 

“Tell me about your day,” He murmured, kissing your neck while his hands grabbed you and caressed you wherever he could reach. 

You squealed when you felt his metal fingers wandering dangerously close to your clit. Then said, “It went pretty well. I went out to buy some supplies, made a new friend at the store, I went to see my father but he wasn’t home. I took our dog for a walk, I painted…,” You gasped when his mouth trailed down till he took a nipple into his warm mouth, while he slid two fingers inside you gently. “Oh fuck…” You whined. 

He kissed his way up to your mouth again and said, “You sound so good when you moan for me, wife.” His lips brushed against yours. 

He was so close. And it was dark. And you wanted so desperately to see him. 

He moved his fingers expertly in and out of you. Making sure to brush against your most sensitive spots each time, turning you into a whimpering mess under him. He gave you a gentle kiss, swallowing your moans as he brought you closer to the edge. 

You whimpered and whined, then in the moment you just blurted out, “Can I please see you now?” 

Bucky stopped. He pulled away from you, making you whimper again as he got up and got out of your bed. 

In the dark it took a while for you to figure out where he was, whether he was still nearby or already making his way out the door. But he was here, standing near the bed. 

“We talked about this.” He said, sounding grave and disappointed. 

“But it’s been so long.” You argued. “I trust you.” 

He let out a loud exhale and said, “Then trust me when I say, it’s better this way.” 

You let out a sigh. “You can’t keep me in the dark forever, Bucky. Literally!” 

“Yes I can. I will.” He said arrogantly. That tone of his bothered you. “It’s better this way.” He repeated, but it sounded a lot like he was trying to convince himself instead of you. 

“Oh screw you!” You said with enough bitterness to make a grown man flinch. “If you won’t let me see you then stop coming into my bedroom. I don’t want to see you unless you agree to let go of this weird persona.” 

“Fine.” 

—

That night was the last time you heard from Bucky. 

He didn’t come home the following day. Nor the one after that. 

And no one knew where he went. 

You could tell something was wrong when you began noticing that the guards were talking in hushed voices whenever you were around. You noticed that the amount of security around the house doubled. That’s when you began to worry. 

By the third night, the entire house was filled with this almost tangible tension, worry, and fear. The house staff wouldn’t talk to you as much. The guards were always in and out of the house. The head of security advised you to not wander too far away from the house while you roam the grounds. 

You noticed the guards would follow you whenever you left the property. Be it when you left to visit your father at your old house or when you went out to buy supplies. 

Then you worried some more. But no one had answers to your questions. Nobody knew where he went. Whether he’s away for an assignment or if he’s simply choosing to be away from home. 

You tried your hardest to pretend that you didn’t care. You were still a little angry. After all, why couldn’t you see what he looked like? You’d spend so much time with him in the dark, running your hands all over him, tracing the outline of his facial features, he never had an issue with that. But why couldn’t you see him? 

You were angry, but also very much worried by the fourth day. You missed him, you realised. He had become such a habit, such a constant in your days. His sarcastic humour, his gentle hands, his comforting embrace, the way he left you notes in the morning, the way he took your art seriously. 

Fuck. You sat up in bed one night, patting ‘his’ side of the bed softly. You missed him. Badly. You felt a pinch inside your chest which you had never felt before. It hurt. You wanted him home. You admitted to yourself with a painful sigh. 

“Where are you?” You whispered, looking at the dark corner of your bedroom where he used to sit in silence like a ghost. “It’s okay if you want to stay in the dark forever.” You looked around the dark room which now without him seemed so much bigger and empty, “Just come home.” 

—

The next morning, as you half-heartedly approached the kitchen, you overheard something. And quickly realised you shouldn’t have heard it. It was the two ladies talking in hushed tones, the ones who usually served you your meals and often kept you company while you baked. 

“...cannot tell her, she’ll be heartbroken.” One of them said gravely. 

Sudden panic made your body freeze. You pressed your back against the nearest wall to keep yourself hidden while you processed those cryptic words. No, no, no. Is he hurt? Do they know something you don’t? 

The other replied, “But she deserves to know. Even if it’s not confirmed yet. I mean, do you see how she smiles when she reads his notes? Clearly she had grown to care for him. She needs to know.” 

The other argued, “I know, but I cannot imagine how hurt she will be when she hears about the rumours that her own father kidnapped her husband due to some past rivalry which was supposedly laid to rest after their wedding.” 

“They’ve been looking for him for days now. It’s been too long, he should’ve been found by now.” 

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! 

No. This cannot be happening. 

You carefully walked away from the kitchen. Thinking, processing, analysing. 

If your father did it, it must’ve been for some shitty, arrogant reason. He probably just wanted to rub it in Bucky’s family’s face that he could still eliminate his biggest threat if he wanted to. To show that he could still get rid of them by holding their most precious weapon hostage. To toy with them by making them wait in anticipation. Your father had done it before. Not with Bucky, but other people. He usually never asked for ransom but he liked having his rivals beg him for mercy. 

Shit. He’s had Bucky for days now. 

You moved without thinking twice about it. For some reason, your brain knew exactly what to do even though your heart was still bothered by a multitude of emotions. It felt like you were on autopilot. 

You rushed into Bucky’s office and grabbed a handgun from his desk drawer, checked if it was loaded. It was. You knew Bucky kept it there for safety, he had told you that one time when you two were in bed together. 

You let out a frustrated sigh, then felt movement around your ankles. You looked down at your puppy and gave her a sad smile as you bent down to pet her. “I’m gonna go find daddy, okay? I’ll be home soon.” You left her with a kiss. 

You rushed back downstairs and found a group of armed guards in the foyer near the front door. You didn’t have the time to explain it all to them, especially since you were driven by a gut feeling. Instead you asked, “Do you guys have a way of tracking my phone, or my car?” 

One of them nodded. The rest frowned in confusion. 

You tried to keep your calm as much as you could even though your heart was racing. “Okay, I’m gonna go to my father’s house. Don’t follow me yet, but I need some of you to come find me as soon as I begin driving away from there.” 

Surprisingly, they just nodded and let you go. 

The whole time you drove to your father’s house, it felt you were constantly having to force yourself to keep calm. After four days of having no idea where he was, and now as all the puzzle pieces fit together, it was hard to remain calm. You just wanted to get to him. 

And while you drove, unanswered questions tormented you. 

Was he hurt? Where was he being kept? Was he beaten up? Was he even conscious? Would this end badly? How far would your father take this? Would he hurt him? 

Before you knew it, you were entering your father’s property. The guards let you in like they always did. You had to take a minute to breathe in your car before stepping out and going inside your old home. 

Luckily your father was home. 

You walked in and stopped in the middle of the foyer as you saw him making his way down the stairs. He slowed down when he noticed the glare you sent his way. And when he stopped in the middle of the grand staircase, with you still glaring at him, the guards who were scattered around the entrance noticed. You caught the way they silently got closer and closer, slowly reaching for their guns. 

Good thing you’d brought your own. 

The guards, as well as your father, froze in place the moment you pulled out Bucky’s gun and pointed it at the man responsible for all of this shit. No one made a single sound. No guard moved to even try to disarm you. 

You looked at your hand, which was surprisingly steady as it held the gun. And there, on the side of the shiny metal, you spotted Bucky’s initials. Your heart throbbed in a painful way, but you refused to be emotional right now, even though you needed a good cry after having bottled up your feelings for the last few days. 

You glared at your father, who was still shocked, and asked in a cold tone you’d never used before, “Where’s my husband?” 

Your father frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

You repeated, “Where is he?” 

Your father scoffed, “You’ll shoot your own father? Is this how I raised you?” 

“And you’ll kidnap your own son-in-law? For what? To show that you’re still the shit?” You questioned in a slightly raised voice. 

He sighed like he was disappointed, “You don’t know what–,” 

You cut him off. “We had a deal, right? That these petty attacks would stop after the wedding? That’s why I got married, isn’t it? Because we’re supposed to keep family safe?” 

He was quiet for a moment. Then began talking again, “If I could just get them to–,” 

“Enough!” You sounded just as tired of his bullshit as you were. “Whatever plan you have, just stop!” Then it came spilling out of your mouth, “You were supposed to protect me. All of us,” You said, referring to your older siblings, “Instead you married each of us off in exchange for whatever or whoever was going to benefit you more.” 

He argued, “If this works, you can come back home. Don’t you want that?” 

“No,” You said, and realised you meant it. “This was never home.” You admitted. “He treats me better than my own family ever did. He doesn’t tell me that my art is a waste of time. He doesn’t keep me imprisoned inside his home. He doesn’t choose who I should mingle with and who I shouldn’t. He doesn’t force me to join family businesses because it’ll be good for his image.” You taunted your father. “And he’ll never sell me to the highest bidder.” 

Your father made a sound like he was disgusted. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?” 

You remained quiet. I care for him, you wanted to say, deeply. But that would be lying, wouldn’t it? Truth was… you did fall for him. His calm voice. His gentle but playful demeanour. His dark humour. His brilliant mind and sharp tongue, always ready to argue and debate. His gentle touch… you loved him. 

“What I do and who I care for is none of your concern anymore.” You concluded, stepping forward and keeping the gun aimed at his face. “Now, where is my husband?” 

The smirk on your father’s face was maddening. “You’ll never find him,” He said. “I’ve hidden him well.” He added.  

You gave him a smirk as well. One which mirrored his. 

“Oh don’t make me do this.” You cooed. “Did you forget all those times you got drunk and confessed all the bad things you did?” You began listing, “All those times you spilled all your little secrets. About our family businesses, about your allies, the lies and betrayal. The bodies that are buried on this very property. The skeletons in your closet.” You gave him a sick, sweet smile. “Imagine if all that information just magically ends up in the ears of your rivals, dad. Imagine the carnage.” 

His smirk disappeared. “You would betray me by siding with them?” He asked in disbelief. 

You were getting tired of this. So you lowered your gun and said, “I am one of them.” 

You walked out without a single glance back at your father, but you could tell he had his jaws clenched in anger. He hated being outsmarted. But his mistake was underestimating you. 

And as for Bucky’s location, well your father gave it away when he said ‘I’ve hidden him well.’ 

There was only one place he believed you knew nothing about since at the time that he told you about it, he was drunk out of his mind as he confessed more of his crimes: the rundown warehouse which he used as a hideout/storage for weapons and arms. 

Your father had always referred to Bucky being a ‘weapon’ so it was only fitting that he would think to hide him there. Thinking no one would find him. 

But you would. 

As you drove to the warehouse, you hoped that the guards were tracking you as you had instructed them to. Because if Bucky was truly there, there was a high chance that there would be some guards, and that Bucky must be injured. And you’d need help getting him out of there. 

Driving to the warehouse, you had silent tears streaming down your face. Not just out of sadness, but also frustration. Fuck, what had your life become? 

The warehouse was a disaster, you realised as you approached it. Large, crumbling, windows boarded up with rotting wood, broken machinery scattered around the outside. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades. And it was exactly the type of structure no one would bother to look twice at. The perfect place to hide illegal things, and son-in-laws you hate. 

There weren’t as many guards as you expected. Which would mean that Bucky was either chained and locked up like an animal, or that he was injured to the point where he was too weak to fight his way out of here. 

Or both. 

You shivered as you got out of your car. The few guards who were around noticed you and one of them began walking faster towards you the more you got closer to the entrance. 

“Miss, you can’t be here. Your father explicitly said no one is allowed–,” 

You scoffed and said, “Oh, I know what he said.” You kept walking. “What will you do? Shoot me?” 

“Miss,” He tried again, “I can’t let you–,” 

You turned towards him and placed the barrel of Bucky’s gun right under the guard’s chin. “You were saying?” 

Then you heard it. A fleet of cars approaching. The guards heard it too. You heard them yelling at one another while the one in front of you remained frozen in place. You smirked at him and said, “Now go play with them.” 

You had just enough time to duck and run inside before the gunshots began. You didn’t stop. The interior of the warehouse was just as dilapidated as the outside, and by the sound of it, there were quite some guards on the roof. Their heavy footsteps as they ran to duck and try to escape the bullets raining down on them echoed inside the empty warehouse. 

It was fairly easy to spot Bucky. But fuck was it painful to see him that way. 

He was chained to the wall, shackles around his wrists and ankles. His body slumped on the ground, his breaths ragged. You could tell he was tired. Perhaps tired of fighting against the chains. You couldn’t hold back your soft sob as you ran to him. 

They had left his muzzle-like mask on him, covering the lower half of his face. The leather jacket and gloves he wore were covered in blood and dirt. A lot of blood. You knelt down in front of him and that’s when you noticed the bullet wound on his thigh. It looked fresh. 

“Bucky?” You called, reaching a hand to touch his face. He was cold to the touch, but stirred at the sound of your voice. “Bucky, come on. Wake up. Please.” You sniffled and inched closer to him, “I’m here, I’m gonna get us out of here, okay?” 

He let out a weak cough. You could barely hear it over the sound of the gunshots outside. 

“Bucky,” You tried to get the chains and shackles off of him, “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.” Your own voice cracked as you felt the silent tears streaming down your face as you were unable to get the shackles off. “Please,” You begged. 

Then as the gunshots outside faded away, you heard Bucky’s faint voice saying, “Use the gun.” 

You turned to face him. “What?” 

He spoke again, his voice raspier than usual and sounding muffled due to the mask. “Shoot at the chains.” 

Your hands trembled just a little as you reached for the gun you had brought. His gun. And you said, “Okay, don’t move.” 

You did. And only missed twice. 

Breaking the chains left the shackles still around his wrists and ankles but that could be dealt with later. You were panicking, wondering how you’d get him out of here but the guards barged in just in time. And you let out a sigh of relief when they ran straight to Bucky and carefully picked him up. 

As a couple of them managed to get Bucky in the backseat of your car, one of them let you know that there was a doctor and his assistants already waiting at home to tend to Bucky. Another one asked you what to do regarding the warehouse. 

“Burn it.” You told him. “I’ll deal with my father later, right now we need to get Bucky home.” 

On the drive home, Bucky kept trying to talk. But he was so weak he could barely get full sentences out. 

“Weren’t you mad at me?” He asked.

You sniffled and said refused to answer that. Instead you said, “Try not to talk. You’ve been shot, we don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” You rambled. “Let’s get you to the doctor, okay?”  

“S’okay,” He mumbled, “It went through.” 

That only hurt more. “Bucky please, you need to save energy, okay? We’re almost home.” 

“They… shot me with my own gun.” He refused to keep quiet. 

At first you thought his brain was being delirious and making him ramble. Because of the pain, exhaustion, thirst, hunger. But then a weak sound left his mouth. Still muffled by the mask because no one removed it, and it sounded a lot like a very weak, faint laugh. 

“Eros got pierced by his own arrow after all.” He mumbled. 

You held back a sob. Then muttered, “I hate you so much, Bucky Barnes.” 

Another weak laugh. “No, you don’t, wife.” 

Then he passed out cold. 

— 

The next few days which followed Bucky’s rescue went by so fast and so painfully. The medical team kept close watch on him for days. Bucky was in and out of consciousness a lot. All the meds and the exhaustion kept him constantly out cold. 

The nurses and the house staff were constantly around him. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to go into his room. Not yet. You’d linger near the door and the doctors and the staff would constantly update you about his condition, but you never went in. 

Mainly it was because of shame. At what your father had done to him. But also you were still making peace with and processing your own emotions and you couldn’t face him until you were fully ready. What was important was that he was rescued and safe in his home. 

About a week later, the medical team finally left. And promised they would do frequent check ups and told you that Bucky needed a lot of rest. 

And that night, you managed to find the courage to finally step inside Bucky’s bedroom. It was a lot like yours, just larger. The room was dark when you walked in. But the open curtains allowed some light in from the outside. 

Okay. You spoke to yourself as you approached Bucky’s bed. It’s high time you find out who you married. 

Your hands shook a little as you reached for the dim lamp on his bedside table. But you turned it on quickly before you could talk yourself out of it. 

The golden light illuminated the room partly, and there he was. A little bruised, with a cut on his lip. His handsome face made you smile and tear up at the same time. You couldn’t hold back from reaching to touch his face softly, carefully. You ran your knuckles along his cheek and whispered, “There you are, ghost.” 

He stirred. And soon, a pair of sparkling blue eyes look up at you. For a moment you panicked, wondering if he would be upset. But instead he said, “This is cheating.” 

You let out a soft laugh and asked, “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for days.” 

“I feel like beating your father up.” He mumbled. 

“Oh, same.” You agreed. Then added, “I’m so sorry for what he did to you.” 

Over the past few days, the guards had gathered what had truly happened the day Bucky went missing. Turns out, he did leave for an assignment but your father and his men had been keeping a close eye on him for days, and since the wedding was supposed to have ended all rivalry, Bucky had his guard down as he entered your father’s territory. And your father had the upper hand for once and took advantage of it. Bucky was cornered, outnumbered and taken. He was kept in that warehouse up until you found him. 

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered, reaching for your hand on your lap. He gave your hand a soft squeeze and said, “You saved me.” 

You couldn’t look away from Bucky. It felt so intimate to finally be able to see his face. Then rather sheepishly, you asked, “Can I sleep here? I’ll be careful.” He was still injured and in pain, but you just wanted to be close to him. You needed to. 

He smirked, “Come on.” You walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers, keeping some distance between you and him. He turned to look at you and said, “Want me to leave the light on?” 

You nodded. And he did. 

— 

A lot changed after that. 

Bucky was healing from his injury and was starting to walk again. Which meant that he was home a lot. He did ‘work’ but it mainly consisted of him ordering people around on the phone. 

Him being at home meant that he followed you around as much as he physically could. He would spend time in your studio, sometimes he’d stay for hours and watch you finish your pieces. He also spent a lot more time with your dog, taking her on short walks and teaching her new tricks. 

He’d stay with you in the kitchen while you baked. He’d go with you whenever you went shopping for supplies. Bucky became your shadow. And consequently, spending this much together made you feel closer than ever to him. 

He became your best friend. 

He also became a lot more… bold. 

��

One night Bucky found you in his bathroom. After that night when you first slept in his bed, you hadn’t gone back to your bedroom. So now, most of your things slowly found their way into his space. Like your night time skin care products. 

Bucky crept up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 

You met his eyes through the mirror and gave him a smile. “Your limp is nearly gone.” You announced, noticing the way he walked was so much better now. 

He gave you a look which meant nothing but mischief, “And you know what that means?” 

You could already tell where this was going. You immediately turned him down. “Bucky, we cannot. You’re still injured.” 

“But it’s been weeks.” He said it like it was the ultimate torture. “Don’t you miss those nights we spent together? Hmm?” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. He knew it was one of your weaknesses. “Remember how good it feels when I make you come?” 

You sighed, letting him kiss you and hold you for a moment. “Buck… you’re still healing.” 

“Come on, baby,” He cooed, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll make it so good. I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.” 

You almost gave in the moment he playfully bit your neck, his hands finding the belt of your robe and shamelessly undoing it before sliding in to touch your warm skin. “But,” You tried to find something even though all you wanted was to drag him to bed, “Your stitches…” Your words ended in a soft moan as his metal fingers found their way in between your legs, circling around your clit. 

Bucky growled. Growled. Then said, “Fine, you get to be on top then.” 

You froze, and let out a nervous chuckle. “But I…,” You opened your eyes and met his through the mirror. “I–,” 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He reassured you, remembering the time you told him you’d never done anything with anyone before. “I know.” He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll teach you.” 

And he did. Patiently. 

He took his time in undressing both of you and held your hand in his as he laid down and pulled you on top of him. 

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you.” You murmured. 

He gave you a reassuring smile. “You won’t, baby. Now come on.” 

He watched as you carefully straddled him, settling comfortably around his waist. One hand holding his metal one tightly while the other remained splayed over his chest. 

Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust as he tugged on your hand, pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned down gently and pressed your mouth to his. His warm hand immediately rubbed up and down your side lovingly. He pulled away just a little and whispered against your mouth, “We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?” 

You nodded, already breathless. 

“Tell me, baby. What do you want?” 

You told him the one thing you desperately wanted. “I want to touch you.” 

Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist, your core pressing down on his crotch. “Go on then, touch me.” He murmured. 

He watched you intently as you reached out and touched his face first. Bucky’s heart was racing, you could tell by the way he breathed, as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs, so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. 

You gave him a teasing smile when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your naked body. 

“Don’t tease me,” He mumbled. 

You chuckled and leaned in to give him a brief kiss before hesitantly wrapping your hand around his cock. Part of the reason why you kissed him while doing it was because you were worried about your lack of experience, so you did it to distract him. 

But he caught it. And wrapped his own hand around yours, making you grip him tighter. You pulled away from the kiss and looked into his pretty eyes. Bucky was breathing heavily. You let his hand guide you as you gave him an experimental stroke, a gentle up and down movement. 

He felt thick and hard, and big. You looked down for a quick minute as you let him continue guiding your hand, lazily stroking his cock, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you looked back up at him and kissed your way down his neck, around the base of his throat, making him gasp in pleasure. 

“See?” He whispered, “You’re learning already.” He said as he slowly let go of your hand and let you touch him on your own. 

You continued exploring this new feeling. He was completely fine with just being there and letting you take your time. And you did take your time, touching him everywhere you could, stroking him as slowly or as quickly as you wanted to. Until he was so close to the edge, eyes rolled to the back of his head, lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth as  pre cum started dripping down his cock. 

Oh he was a sight to behold. But you were getting impatient, and you wanted him in you as soon as possible. So you stopped, earning a groan from him. 

“I want you,” You said. 

Bucky looked like he was barely able to hold back either. “Come on,” He held your hand again, pulled you in for a quick kiss as you straddled him properly. His hand reached down and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole, teasing you with it by sliding it up and down your slit a few times until you were whimpering. “Now sit on it baby come on,” He encouraged you as you began sinking down on him, gasping as his cock stretched you out. “You can do it.” He murmured, breathless as he watched his cock disappear inside you more and more. “That's it. All the way down, come on baby.” 

You were a moaning mess by the time you sunk all the way down, impaling yourself down on his cock. Fuck. You had never felt so full before. So fucking full. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, holding you by your hips, moving you back and forth just a little bit to create some friction. 

You nodded, moaning at the slight movement. 

“Want me to help you move?” He asked, lips parted and he had that wild look in his eyes.

Fuck, he was beautiful. 

“Yes, please,” You whined, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself for what was coming. 

He wasted no time. Bucky grabbed you by the hips and helped you move up and down his cock. Your wet warmth wrapped all around him, making him swear under his breath and groan at how good you felt. 

You couldn’t look away from his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and feeling him twitch inside you. 

“Look at you.” He cooed. “Look how well you're taking it.” 

You couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his open mouth. He was so perfect. He was everything you had ever dreamt of, you realised. 

His metal fingers moved to touch your clit while you rode his cock, teasing you and bringing you closer to that edge. It wouldn’t take much. You were so overwhelmed already. 

“Bucky…” You whined, dragging your hands down and pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him around his thigh area, where he was shot. 

Bucky watched you, your breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you got so, so close to the edge. 

And he knew. So he quickened his pace, still moving you up and down his cock while he rubbed your throbbing clit. 

“Baby, I’m gonna need you to come for me, okay?” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. His desperation was quite clear. He began to thrust his hips up even harder, matching your movements.

The air around you got hotter, and that look in his eyes made you want to live in this moment forever. Bucky was the most beautiful mess you’d ever seen. A sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. 

You were sure you looked like a mess too as you felt your walls clench around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly. 

“Come for me,” He whispered, “Come on, baby.” 

You came without a warning, crying out loud and impaling yourself down on him one last time as you did. Bucky thrust up into you one last time and came undone as well, both of you breathing hard and fast. 

You carefully got up from his lap and laid down beside him, body limp and slightly sore in between your legs. 

You were still catching your breath as you asked, “Did I hurt you?” You sounded just as worried as you were. 

Bucky chuckled. “I should be the one asking you that.” 

You smiled and snuggled into his side, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. 

“I’m fine, baby.” He said and kissed your forehead. 

You both laid there in silence for a while. 

Cuddling and relishing each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s skin. 

You felt his fingers drawing random shapes on your back as you laid your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeats against your cheek. You felt the need to ask him, “Why were you so against showing yourself to me?” 

He gave you a soft chuckle. “You just can’t let that go, huh?” 

“Nope.” 

He sighed, pulling you closer. “I was… afraid.” 

You frowned. “Afraid of what?” You pulled away and looked up at him. “Why did you hide this pretty face from me?” You gave him a quick kiss on his chest as you waited for his answer. 

He sighed again. “Everywhere I go, I… whenever people see me up close, it’s already too late. They don’t see a human anymore, they see death staring back at them.” He paused. You remained quiet. He continued. “I see it, you know? In their eyes. When they look at me and plead, or beg, or curse me.” A humourless laugh, then, “After some years of that, I began seeing it in the mirror as well. I saw the same thing they see. After years of brutality, and killing, and spilling blood,” A soft chuckle, “Years of being an evil Eros as you call it, I grew to hate my face.” 

You felt tears forming at your waterline but you couldn’t look away from him. Not when he was being so brave and vulnerable. 

He continued. “And then before our wedding, I looked you up.” He confessed, a little embarrassed. “And you were so beautiful.” He looked you right in the eyes and repeated, “You are so beautiful. I guess, I didn’t want you to look at me and see death, and ugly and all the other dark stuff. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, the same one I see in everyone. That look of fear and disgust.” He finally admitted, “So I thought, I’d just hide and be a ghost.” 

“My ghost.” You corrected him, reaching out to cup his chin in your palm. “And I’m gonna need you to never stop haunting me.” You said, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “I want you to always be in the shadows. Be with me, even in the dark.” You gave him a smile. “I look at you now and you know what I see? I see a man who treated me with respect. A man who wouldn’t touch me unless I asked for it. A man who gave me so much space for my creativity.” A faint smile, then you added, “You made me fall in love with art all over again, and now everything I paint, I paint with you in my mind.” 

He gave you a smile which both broke and mended your heart. 

“Oh Buck,” You cupped his gorgeous face with both hands and said, “You’re not death, or scary, or any other dark shit. You’re mine, and I love you.” 

He pulled you in for a kiss so quickly you barely processed it. “And I love you.” 

You giggled into the kiss and only pulled away when you were breathless. You kissed your way down his chin and nuzzled his neck, sighing in delight. 

Bucky said, “I think I should retire.” 

“Hmm,” You asked, “And what would you do in retirement?” 

“Watch you paint, raise our dog, adopt some more animals, attend your art exhibitions, and eventually make some babies with you.” He listed it all so easily. 

“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.

[neverendingford]

.

[diejager]

Hi! I've been binging your works and I absolutely LOVE how you write Ghost's character.

I was wondering if I can request mentor! Ghost with an Fem! recruit who's like his mini-me (mask and everything) and some others decide to play a prank and pull off her mask in front of the team, cue angry, protective Ghost. Thank you!

Mask prank

He was reluctant at first, his heart frozen over to a cold, dead and unfeeling thing. Ghost liked to keep himself closed and at an arm’s length of people he didn’t know, you fit in that category. An unknown aspect of his entourage that he hated, he abhorred the new and strange.

An yet, you squirrelled your way into his mind, your jumpiness at loud sounds, your tense figure and flinches when people got near to you, wandering hands of ignorant fools that couldn’t understand your jarring behaviour towards physical touch and that exhausted gleam in your eyes, ones that have seen too much for your age. You reminded him of himself, a younger and pained self with a twitchiness towards touch and an awkward personality.

Perhaps that’s why you got to him so quickly, he tested your limits, standing closer and closer to you every time to see where he had to stop before you crashed. With encouragement from the others, he got to the point where he could touch you, placing a hand on your shoulder or forearm, guiding you this way or that way. You reminded him so much of the person he tried burying, to kill off. You reminded him of Simon Riley.

And yet, he gifted you a mask after your first mission with them, one of his balaclava with a painted skull. He remembered the happiness in your eyes and the joy of his team, letting them embrace you tightly and patting you proudly. He’d never seen anything so precious and worth protecting.

That’s why - he thought - he got so mad at a group of privates that pulled a prank, a mean one, on you. He was there when it happened - he was always near you, whether it’s beside you or in the same room, he was always with you as your support buddy - when the men and women approached you, watching your body grow rigid and tense, a frown hidden under the same mask he wore. It started with harmless banter, them surrounding you without much intent until someone reached for you mask.

You panicked, arms jerking outwards to stop her, but another one pulled the mask off you from behind. You weren’t fast enough and outnumbered, and you were paying the price for it. You froze, hands hastily covering your face in a frenzy of harsh breaths and panicked thoughts.

Ghost saw red, he stomped over to you slumped figure, looming over you and glaring at the calling and jeering group that saw no issue in taking your mask away, your shield.

“The fuck you think you’re doing,” he barked, eyes narrowed so much that his eyes seemed to turn black.

He watched them stutter, lining up before him while he stood before you, blocking their view on your agitated and fearful figure. His eyes stared down at the person who tried to take your - his - mask off and the one who did, burying them down with his gaze alone. If his gaze could kill, they would’ve been burned and buried six feet under a hundred times, that red-rimmed glare with abysmal eyes made his name a joke.

“It- it was a prank, sir!” The person holding your shield in his hand spoke up, trying to defend himself with he word prank.

“A prank? Are you bloody children?!”

What a fucking excuse, they were adults, privates on duty for any deployment and they decided to play a prank on another? He couldn’t believe his ears when they blurred out those words, he couldn’t put his anger in words. He was never good with his emotions, never articulate enough to show or tell people how he felt, it felt jarring.

Without a word, he snatched the mask out of their hands, turning to face you with comforting gestures. He hated how small you made yourself, crumpled into yourself with so much terror, hate and trauma. He pushed the mask over your head, hushed words to your ears alone as e held you by your biceps.

“Scram,” he glared over his shoulders, watching the privates squeak and flee, steps quick and clumsy as they ran from the room.

Turning back to you, he led you away from the room, catching on your shallow breaths and your erratic heart. He walked you to your room with a hand on your upper back, a firm and grounding hand that reminded you that he was here, that you were with him in a disclosed base in the British isles. He stayed the night, taking your desk chair while you dozed off to a night plagued by your demons.

He’d have to leave you under Gaz and Soap’s watchful eyes and talk to Price about this tomorrow. If Price doesn’t do anything about them - although he doubted Price won’t, he was fiercely protective of his group of troubled children - Ghost will have to think of something by himself, a lesson for everyone to remember.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog

[lostintransist]

This Bunny Bites - Part 1

I will not apologize. I have been bothering my friend with this fic idea for so, so long..

You clocked the group of men as the entered the club. Clock in the back had shown just after ten PM when you popped back there for a bottle. They settled into seats at an empty table, the four of them giving a wide berth of elbow room between themselves and their neighbor. None of them looked at River who commanded the stage. You didn’t think much of it, lots of men came here to ‘do business’ such as it was.

You delivered the bottle to a private room, letting Strawberry handle the client service. You were functioning as the manager tonight despite being scheduled for a dancers shift. No one else had approached the now occupied table. You strode up, perking up your tits just so.

“Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?” Your voice came out sultry but still within the customer service range.

You look at them from left to right, clean cut guy, dark hair with a well trimmed beard.

“Top shelf whiskey, neat.”

You look to the next man, stubble warm brown skin tone.

“Beer, whatever is on tap.”

Next man wore a ski mask decorated with a human skull. You don’t blink, wasn’t even the worst thing you had seen tonight.

“Black Russian.”

You turn to the last man. It had been a long time since you saw a face that looked like yours. The mohawk hadn’t been there the last time.

“Get the fuck out.”

“What!?” Your half brother Johnny jumped up from his seat. “Why me! I haven’t donne anything!”

You reel back, struck by his words. He didn’t recognize you. Of course, the fucker walked out on you years ago and couldn’t be bothered to remember you now.

“Really,” you dragged the word out, “Johnny McTavish hasn’t done anything to his baby sister?”

His jaw dropped, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he took in your barely covered, well, everything.

“Bunny?” your childhood nickname comes out as a broken whisper. Like he has anything to be broken up over.

“Final warning, get out or get thrown out. Your friends too for arguing.” You shift your chin their direction.

The masked man stands, pulls out his wallet and drops a couple bills on the table before pushing Johnny forward.

“Come on Soap, more places we can drink tonight.” His voice rumbled just loud enough to carry over the music in the space.

The other two stand, more money dropped on the table. Beard gives you a quiet ‘ma’am’ as he passes. Stubble nods when he catches your eye. They all follow Mask out the door. He keeps a hand on Johnny as if to remind him that he can be carried. Bastard was big enough to make it work.

You see Barry the security guard glance between you and the men who just left. You gather up the cash on the table and fold it over in your hand as you walk towards him.

“Barry I just need ten minutes okay? I just had a…“ you search for the right word to express seeing your brother who you haven’t seen in almost fifteen years at a stripper bar. You don’t find a word for it. “Weird interaction and need to clear my head. Can you make rounds on all the girls? Misty and Summer should be finishing up their dances soon.”

“Course, I’ll take care of it. Just let me know if you need anything else dove.” Barry nodded and set about to keep the girls safe.

This club was a bit unusual in the area, they had a firm drink, no touch policy. Anyone wanting to touch a girl, even to fix the strap on her heels had to have a wristband that barred them from alcohol. Not that they had many takers for those but enough recovered alcoholics had started to talk that the club had become a decent spot to hang after a meeting.

You slip into the dressing room, taking a seat on a bench as you count out the cash. You count it again, and again before you believe it. Eight hundred dollars. Three men who you kicked out for coming in with your brother left an eight hundred dollar tip. They didn’t even get their drinks!

“What the fuck just happened?” you whisper to the room.

Part 2

Masterlist

[shirakow]

˗ˏˋ꒰ summary ꒱ ; on his leave, he decided to go to his favorite female idols concert: you! But the thing is, you weren't a girl. SAY HI FOR THE CAMERA, PRETTY THING .

‧₊ ᵎᵎ pair ⋅ ˚✮ ; Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada x Male!Reader

WARNINGS ! NSFW , overstimulation , praise , degradation , slight sadism if you squint , light spanking , light exhibitionism , recording .

⁺ ⛧ ; 3k+ words, and finals are almost finished!

ㅤㅤㅤ"Yes! I'm so pumped!" Hizashi punches the air out of excitement, he finally gets to go to his favorite Idols concert! Truthfully, it was a guilty pleasure, because although he'd much rather listen to rock and anything metal, there was a small part of him that loved cutesy jpop music. And right now it's showing.

The pro hero was on leave due to the fact that he got injured a few days ago—severely, might I add. However, even if he's on leave, that doesn't necessarily mean he can just prance around the city either. Hizashi wore his casual clothes, his usual spiked blonde hair tied in a manbun, and a white face mask to top it all off. There you have it! A completely unrecognizable Present Mic in the wild.

Hizashi walked down the crowded halls of the concert venue, bumping into a swarm of people, but one in particular had the person stumbling back and almost falling, had it not been for Hizashi to catch them. He held their wrist gently and pulled them back onto their feet, "Ya okay, sweet thing?" Hizashi asked, he didn't even need to raise his voice in order for the person to hear as his regular volume was already loud enough due to his quirk.

The person raised their head, only to have his jaw drop at the sight that it wasn't just some nasty old freak—it was you of all people. "Thank you so much, sir!" You tried your best to bow with all these people surrounding you, but it pushed you further into Hizashi's arms. He was quick to act and placed his hands on your shoulders, gently leading you away from the crowd while he tried his hardest not to fanboy. You were his favorite idol for Christ's sake!

The moment you reached a somewhat secluded corner, you thanked him once more, saying 'thank yous' over and over again until you were satisfied. Hizashi took this as a chance to gaze at what you were wearing—it was all casual, a contrast to what he normally sees you wearing on stage, but your hair was still tied in that signature side ponytail. Just as you were about to reach your 30th thank you, Hizashi stopped you, "Hey now, ya gotta save yer pretty voice for the concert," he snickered. "Everyones gonna be so sad if ya perform with a tired voice box, pretty lady." Hizashi said in a dramatic tone, before he smiled under his mask.

The way the nickname rolled off his tongue had you squeezing your thighs, an uncomfortable feeling starting to pool at your abdomen.

You stared at him for a few more seconds, then you nodded, "You're right, thank you again, Sir!" You bowed for one last time. In your ears, he sounded like he was flirting, and not the regular kinda pervy flirting you've received from older men or weirdos in general—it seemed more natural, like Hizashi didn't even mean to be flirty: which is even hotter.

And you were right, it just came like breathing for Hizashi, it's like being in the limelight for most of his life finally paid off! Because now he actually managed to talk to his favorite idol without stuttering and geeking.

Just as you turned to run backstage, you glanced back at him, "Wait, I feel like I know you..." You trailed off. You know it's not his appearance since he was covered from head to toe, but rather, his voice—it was familiar to you. He sounded like a late night podcast host, maybe he's on one of those radio shows you occasionally watched? Hizashi flinched upon mention, and he snickered, "I guess I can't really hide it anymore, it's hard to go anywhere with a voice like mine," he slowly pulled his mask down and tilted his glasses downwards, giving you a glimpse of his green eyes and pretty face underneath.

"Present Mic at yer service." Hizashi cooed with a wink, "And before ya ask, no pictures. I'm on leave today!" His usual boisterous personality finally came out as his voice boomed. You stared in awe at him, you didn't even know Pro Heroes listened to your music, much less Present Mic! You didn't even mind his switch in demeanor, it just made you laugh.

Now if that laugh didn't send a pleasurable shiver down Hizashi's spine, it shockingly served as a way to shut him up. "After the concert then... Is it alright if I can meet with you in the back and... Take a few pictures?" You batted your long eyelashes with a small purse to your lips, hoping he wouldn't have to go so soon. "It's not everyday I get to see a Pro Hero at my concert after all." You placed your hand on his chest, slowly sliding them up to gently caress the side of his neck.

Hizashi's whole body shut down at the touch, before he cleared his throat and raised a brow, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are ya tryin' to flirt with me, pretty thing?" He asked in an unusually quieter tone. "Depends on how you see it." You replied softly, a grin on your red lips. "Well I see it as ya tryin' to get my number, or is it the ego talkin'?" Hizashi wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you in closer.

You bit your bottom lip, and he flinched when you slipped a hand in his back pocket, "H-Hey, what're ya—" you only shushed him. "Relax, it's a VIP pass. Can't have you getting arrested trying to get in through the back..." You whispered as Hizashi scoffed, "I can just sweet talk them." Now it was your turn to do so, "And what? Talk about your sponsor?"

"Maybe." Hizashi chuckled, a grin on his face.

His words made you giggle and pull away which made him pout in disappointment, "Just meet me backstage, I'm looking forward to seeing you in the crowd, Present Mic." The way you said his hero name had him melting, he's so glad he can call that alias his. Now what he wanted to hear was for you to call his real name.

Like he promised, Hizashi stood right outside your private room with his back against the wall. He managed to slip through the guards using the VIP pass you slipped him when you were talking. After a while of waiting, he got a bit impatient. He desperately wanted to see you and take some pictures, and he'd hang it up on the wall along with the other band posters he had! Maybe he'll even empty out a space just to make it a lot more special.

Hizashi tapped his foot on the floor, before he sighed and opened the door when he got tired of waiting. "Pardon me for the intrusion—!" He said in a sing-song tone, only to pause when he saw you touching up your makeup in front of the mirror, your pretty pink dress ruffled up a bit with your hair set neatly on the vanity table. Wait, what?

Your hair was a wig?! You panicked and got a hold of your wig and threw it on, albeit messily but it was already too late now. Hizashi's mouth flew open in shock, before he shook his head and approached you, letting the door close behind him.

"Ya... What..." He sputtered out, trying to figure out what was going on, before he came to two conclusions. Hizashi unexpectedly placed a hand under your chin and gently turned your head left and right, as if observing you. "Say..." He trailed off quietly, "Talk." He said, uncharacteristically too blunt for your liking. You stuttered a few words out, but not coherent ones as you were too flustered for getting caught, "Look, it's not what it looks like..." Hizashi raised a brow and tilted his head.

"Ya know, if ya hadn't said that, I would've believed it if ya told me ya were just a girl with short hair," he hummed, rubbing your chin with his thumb. "But I'm guessing it is what it looks like." Hizashi said with a small grin forming on his face, "Yer a boy, aren't ya?" Hizashi knew it was wrong to ask, and incredibly insensitive if it turns out you were actually a girl with short hair who sounded like a prepubescent teenage boy.

You flinched at the question, and decided to play it off, "What? Of course not!" You lied through your teeth. Your contract prohibited you from telling the truth, after all. Hizashi snickered and pulled his mask off and shoved it in his pocket, "I don't mind, sweet thing. And besides, I'm not one to share others' secrets." He cooed, gently taking your wig off and threw it aside, causing it to hit the wall and slide down to the floor.

You gulped thickly when you were exposed, "You promise?" You asked, holding onto Hizashi's wrist. He bit his bottom lip as he fought back a smirk, "I promise, don't worry yer pretty little head, baby." Hizashi whispered in a sultry tone, before he paused when he thought about something.

"... Ya still up for that picture taking session?"

"Yeah, set up the camera just like that, baby." Hizashi cooed into your ear as you bent over on his lap to set the phone up on a stand. It would've been a lot easier if you just stood up, if it weren't for Hizashi's tight hold on your hips, and his dick buried deep in your ass. "Come on, how hard is it to set up a phone?" He commented with a raised brow, growing impatient.

You rolled your eyes and was about to bite back when he suddenly gave your hole a sharp thrust, causing the tip of his cock to hit your prostate head on. You moaned, arching your spine and accidentally let go of the phone, making it fall back on the table. You looked back at Hizashi with furrowed brows, "Stay still, will you." You grumbled out in annoyance and went back to fixing the camera.

Hizashi snickered and pushed your fluffy shirt back to gently rub circles on your lower back. "Can't help it, ya'd do the same if ya had yer dick up your favorite idols ass." He bit his bottom lip and moved your hips to grind you against him. You huffed, "You're too impatient." You commented as you finally got the phone set up on the stand.

"And yer too slow." Hizashi immediately started fucking into you when you clicked record, lifting your hips and bringing it back down on his cock like a fleshlight. Your eyes widened, holding onto the cushions in between Hizashi's spread legs for some leverage, "Y-You fucker!" You moaned, trying your best not to moan too loud as you're still in the concert venue.

Hizashi laughed, using his other hand to lift your skirt up, exposing your leaking cock to the camera—bouncing up and down as he thrusted in and out of your ass. "Aye... Look at that pretty cock... Yer fuckin' leakin'..." He bit his bottom lip at the sight. You were quick to cover it up with your hands out of embarrassment, which made Hizashi spank your thigh.

"Don't cover 'em, I'm not gonna show this to anyone, baby..." Hizashi whispered into your ear, pressing his chest against your back as he gently got a hold of your wrists and slowly pulled them away from your boy parts. "This is for me and my eyes alone... So let me see your dick, baby... Let the camera see..." He urged, smirking slightly when he saw you hesitantly move your hands away from in between your legs.

"Attaboy." Hizashi praised and moved his hands to go under your thighs, pulling them up so you're on Nelson, letting the camera see his thick cock spreading your tight hole out. "Fuckk... I could just cum at the sight of that..." He groaned, his dick twitching inside you as he went back to thrusting into your ass.

You squealed, reaching behind you to grab a fistful of Hizashi's hair as you felt yourself coming closer. "M-Mic..." Hizashi groaned and shook his head, "Call me Hizashi, baby... Fuck, call me that, please..." He begged as he nipped on your neck, sucking and licking on your sensitive spot to make a mark.

"D-Don't leave a hickey...!" You panted breathlessly, your other hand grabbing hold of Hizashi's thigh. He growled into your ear, biting down onto your neck just to spite you, "Ya can just cover 'em up... Ya can't really blame me for wantin' to make the world know yer mine..."

Hizashi chuckled, kissing the spot gently as an apology as his free hand dropped one of your thighs and got a hold of your cock, enclosing his palm around the tip—circling and twisting it to get all the precum out. You cried, desperately trying to close your thighs at his rough ministrations. "Ah ah ah, don't close 'em, or else I'm gonna leave you 'ere. Empty and stretched out..." Hizashi warned with a small sadistic grin.

Tears rolled down your cheeks but you nodded nonetheless, "Y-You're so mean... Ngh...!~" You sobbed and babbled incoherent nonsense. Hizashi cooed at your words, and once he deemed his palm wet enough, he started to fist your cock roughly in time with his thrusts.

Your tongue lolled out, arching your back away from Hizashi's chest. He let out a loud 'ohhh' as he watched your cock release spurts of cum, "There we go, attaboy... Yer doin' so good..." Hizashi praised into your ear, watching your reactions from the small phone on the table. "Ya look good from this angle." He snickered as his pace started to get sloppy and desperate.

"Fuck, I'm close... Inside or out?" Hizashi asked you. You were too fucked out at this point, your whole body ached and shook at the overstimulation and continued thrusts from Hizashi even though you just came.

"Mm... A-Ah...—nside...~" You were too far gone. Hizashi raised a brow and smirked, "What was that?" He gave a harsh thrust, his grip on your cock growing tighter. You sobbed as your eyes rolled back, "I-Inside! Please, inside...!" You begged breathlessly, it's like you just threw your dignity away the moment you got some dick. It's been years anyway.

Hizashi groaned and nodded, "Roger..." He reached to the side and got a hold of your discarded panties, before shoving it into your mouth to gag you up. "Taste yerself for a little while..." Hizashi put your thighs down and slowly pulled out of you, which earned a muffled whine of disappointment from you.

He chuckled and stood up, pulling you with him and had you bend down on the coffee table—directly in front of the camera. Your eyes widened at your appearance: your makeup was ruined, mascara running down your rosy cheeks and your hair was a mess. Hizashi noticed you staring at yourself while he positioned himself back into your ass.

You looked away from the phone in embarrassment, only for Hizashi to laugh and grab a hold of the device. "Don't worry, I'll keep yer face out of it." He instead hovered it over to where they'll soon be connected, and pushed back inside your ass with a groan. "Still tight as hell..." Hizashi held onto your hip with one hand and began fucking you again.

Your eyes crossed, gripping onto the table for dear life as he sobbed. Tasting yourself on your tongue as drool rolled down your chin. Hizashi watched his dick disappear and reappear from your hole, the way cum created a small halo around the base of his cock, and the way your ass bounced—just the sight of you taking his cock had him moaning.

"C-Close... Fuck I'm so close..." Hizashi bit his bottom lip, reaching under you to stroke your sensitive dick. You shook violently and came for the 2nd time, his heavy balls slapping against your own. Hizashi's hips stuttered as he let go of his phone and pulled you up, your back meeting his chest as he swiftly took your panties out your mouth and turned your head to kiss you sloppily.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth and moaned against your lips, giving one last thrust before he came inside you. Hot spurts of cum coating your gummy walls. You squealed, a few more drops of pre running down your red cock. Hizashi pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours, "Ya... Okay...?" He asked with a tired chuckle.

You were in a daze, but you managed to give him a nod nonetheless. Hizashi smiled and gave you one last peck on the lips, "'m sorry for being so mean... I'll make it up to ya." He offered as he slowly pulled out of you, making you hiss at how sensitive you were. Hizashi gently patted your ass and settled you on your couch, grabbed a towel from your chair and slowly wiped your lower half clean—making sure not to overstimulate you any further.

"How... Are you gonna make it up... To me..." You breathed out while staring at him, eyes lidded with fatigue. Hizashi thought for a moment before snickering, "I'll give ya an autograph?" He joked. You groaned and turned around to look away from him.

"I'm kiddin', sweet cheeks. What should I do to make it up to ya?" He asked, his hand rubbing your waist from behind while he kneeled in front of the couch. You were silent for a few seconds, taking his question into consideration before you glanced over your shoulder, "Give me your number." Hizashi paused, then he laughed.

"I already left it on yer vanity."

"Do you just carry a business card everywhere you go?"

"Hey, it came in handy today, don't ya think?" Well, yeah. At least he's one call away for another dicking down session.

© shirakow ; im in heat .

ㅤ

[slasherx]

I'm doing fine thank you for asking, 😌

Also thank you for doing the request of Thomas Hewitt

I also had another idea you can do if you want!

Can you do a Thomas hewitt with a female s/o who can sing like really well (like lana del Rey) and he meets her at like idk when the town wasn't abandoned they used to have like little evens and the s/o sang up and like thats when thomas fell in love

I know cheesy but like aren't we all

Thats good! And yeah, no problem. Tommy's my favorite so it's always a pleasure doing requests for him :3

Content: Thomas Hewitt x fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: The gif below is one of my favorite gifs of him hehe. I also love Lana Del Rey so I'm basing this off the song "Summertime Sadness" by her. Also I do headcanon Charlie/Hoyt and Tommy to be brothers, with Luda Mae as their mom, and Monty as the only uncle and brother to Luda. I know some people have them as uncle and nephew, but I don't think thats the case. Tommy and Reader are both about 18 in this.

• ───────────────── •

Tommy both loved and hated the county fair.

He hated it because people would tell him he should be with the pigs, or with the cows, displayed for people to judge. He hated the heat that accumulated with everyone smushed together in a crowd. He hated that he had no friends to run off with and have fun with, only Charlie could do that with him, but his older brother was worried about girls. He hated that he had to stay by his mama helping sell jelly and the like, he desperately wanted to go on the rides and see the attractions.

But he also loved it because of said rides and attractions. There was a new one this year, where music was being played. He could hear it from his mama's stand. He kept looking in the direction of it, and Luda Mae could practically feel his wanting.

"Tommy, what'cha keep lookin' over there for?" Luda Mae asked.

Tommy touched his ears and pointed in the direction of the music. Luda Mae understood - he wanted to go see the music. "Well, alright. Maybe it'll lighten up your mood some."

Tommy perked up at that. He hugged her and turned to move towards the music. Luda Mae then piped up again. "But you better tell Charlie to come back if you see 'im!"

Tommy nodded before going towards the music. There was a huge crowd both sitting and standing, consisting of old and young people. The stage was made of some dark wood, with red curtains pulled back to show off the full thing. And there you stood, singing your little heart out.

Tommy could feel his knees wobble. You were singing some soft melody, and your bandmates were scattered around you. But he was attracted to you. Your voice sounded like it was touched by God himself. It was beautiful. You were beautiful.

You wore a pastel blue and white dress that cascaded down to your knees, your (color) hair cascading down (to your shoulders/past your shoulders). Tommy was enamoured. You dressed just as you sang.

As you sang, you noticed this hulking man in the back and tried to subtly get a better look. This man had broad shoulders, wavy brown hair that fell past those broad shoulders, and what seemed to be a mask covering his face. He wore a nice green dress shirt with khaki pants. You smiled, he was cute.

Tommy could've sworn he almost fainted. He turned around to see if you had smiled at someone else maybe, but he was the only one in this general direction. He kept some distance from the back of the crowd so he didn't have to hear any insults.

As you finished your song and began preparing to move to the next one, you locked eyes with him once more, singing loud and proud. Your bandmates played your instrumental, smiling to themselves as they just enjoyed playing their repsective instruments.

Tommy stayed for your whole performance, completely in a trance. He hadn't noticed the sun going down and the heat lessenig. He hadn't notice people and families shove past him to leave. All his focus was on, was you. He felt his heart pound at every syllable you sung, every note you hit.

It was poetic, he thinks. But that was soon interrupted by someone grabbing his shoulder. He whipped around angrily, only to be met with his older brother, Charlie.

"C'mon, Tommy! Been lookin' everywhere for ya! We need to go, mama's tired and sold all o' her jelly 'n shit." Charlie spoke loudly over your voice.

He didn't want to leave you. Even though you weren't singing exclusively for him, and had barely knew him much less even met him, he didn't want to leave. You showed him kidness by smiling at him. That is something he'll never forget. He just nodded to Charlie.

Charlie, figuring that was enough, turned and began heading back to Luda Mae's stand. Tommy watched him go, before turning back to you singing on stage. He raised his hand high and waved, before leaving the crowd.

You were on stage and mid-song, so you couldn't wave back. But oh how you wanted to.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!

[callofdudes]

Slapping their ass-

(Because why not right?)

Ghost

You and Simon had only been dating for six months. While those six months had been rough, you found it rewarding that Simon had come to trust you a little more than before. He allowed you to touch him in private much more than he typically would. He no longer reprimanded you for pulling his mask up enough for a quick kiss. The two of you were sparring when it happened. Ghost threw a right hook which you managed to dodge. You slipped in behind him and as a last minute thought you reached out your hand and slapped him right across the ass. It happened before you knew it happened and both of you froze. He turned to look back at you, eye twitching. There was an uncomfortably long silence where you both just kind of took in the moment. One about to kill and one about to be killed. "Simon... I-"

"Run."

You're not in too much trouble, don't be scared of him ;)

Soap

It was a dare because of course it was. You were sitting on a training mat with Gaz who held your feet as you finished your situps. You were going back over sml banter when you might have let it slip that you thought how cute Soap's ass looked in those stupidly tight workout shorts he sometimes wore on hot days. It was ridiculous not to look at him. Next thing you knew you were locked into the typical peer pressure of a dare. Soap was talking with Price when you walked up super casual. He nodded to your captain and politely smiled at Soap. "Mornin' Soap." He was about to reply when your hand came up behind him and smacked him right on those stupid shorts. You tried not to laugh at the look of shock and walked away. Once he recovered he smirked and ran after you, fully intending to slap you back. When he did, both of you laughed it off. This was a one time thing and totallynotthenewwayyougreeteachotherinthemorning-

Gaz

A mission. Both of you were camped out on a roof top. While you had taken position with your sniper Gaz held his eyes on the three entrances from the building and up to the roof you were both on. You had been sitting there for a grueling fifty minutes, making sure no one was left when you heard the call from Price that you were safe. Almost immediately you both sighed. You dropped the gun and covered your face, feeling about ready to cry you were so relieved. Gaz came over and sat down, smiling at you. "We're all good Y/n." He placed his hand hesitantly on the small of your back. "I think I need a minute." He nodded and patted your back and got up. When you were ready you got up and met him by the ladder with your stuff. He started going to the ladder last and on the way you reached your hand up and slapped him as hard as you could. "That's for scaring me back there." He froze for a second before nodding. "Can we continue this at home??" He's asking for a friend.

Price

Price was not having a fun day. In fact, he was having a, for lack of a better word, a shit day. He has been sitting there doing paperwork for what felt like hours. He admitted that his body relaxed when you walked in. You carried a warm cup of coffee in one hand and some food from the mess hall in the other. "Figured you'd be in here. Doing ok?" He nodded and stood, kissing you when you reached his desk. You placed down the items in your hands and rubbed his cheek. "Don't be too hard on yourself. I still need you in working order y'know." He scoffed. "And for what necessity would I need to be working, love?" You kissed his cheek again. "Don't get cocky now." His hands moved down to your spine to caress your hips. "Never." You both chuckled softly. You pulled away to let him sit, but as he was turning around he felt your hand slap him hard across the ass. He whipped around and you knew to run. You made it almost to the door before his body slammed into you. He pressed you against the wall and raised your arms above your head. "Whatever will I do with you." He chuckled. You didn't leave that office for a good bit. :)

König

You were late to the mess hall. You had guests over so the night before had been a hectic mix of parting and games. Probably wasn't the best thing in the world, but your hangover was only mild at most.

When you walked in everyone was at their tables talking to each other. You almost didn't notice that mountain of a man by the mess hall table of food until you got there. König was flipping through what looked to be a news paper absent mindedly, with no care for your existence. Poor thing was probably feeling to shy to sit down.

You grabbed your food but before going to your table you reached your hand down and slapped his ass, accompanied by your firm grip to get his attention. He whipped around, shaking and spluttering surprised. Everyone looked at the two of you, causing him to panic and attempt to hide himself again. "Come sit with me." You urged in a not so friendly tone. You could see him shaking in either fear or embarrassment. He grabbed his food, muttering as he followed you to a table.

Alejandro

He did it to you first. And after he did, the little shit took every precaution to make sure you couldn't physically do it back. He had cornered you by the wash hall and slapped you hard enough to mark with a comment about your previous nights escepades. You had been embarrassed, but Rodolfo was regularly exposed to your interesting relationship to care much. He just continued on and started to shower like nothing had happened. You forgot about the Cartel and every heist, scheme, robbery. Your new mission was to get him back. And you did. The poor boys when they first met you they knew they were in for it. Alejandro had gotten out to greet the guests, and you felt inclined to as well. That and the seating arrangement needed to change. So when he opened the door for Ghost you saw your opportunity. Before he could get another word out you slapped him so hard across that stupid little ass of his he just went wide eyes. Jaw open. You smirked and loudly proclaimed, "Finally! Dumb Vaquero!" He turned back to you and smirked. "Mi vida, guests." You stuck out your tongue. "Which means you can't do nothing about it." You were wrong. He did do something about it. He was still very proud you managed to one-up him.

Rodolfo

You were making breakfast and casually talking. The others weren't quite up yet, so you two had made a point to be quite. Rodolfo had an apron to keep his uniform clean, which to yours and everyone else's realization made his hips just that more prominent. He was casually flipping an egg when you walked by to grab the flower. Your hand slipped from your pocket and full on grabbed this man's ass. He gasped when you let go and turned to berate you. He scolded you as blush saturated his cheeks. His pink nose reminding you of a certain reindeer. You smiled. "What will you do about it?" Your smile didn't last long. He pulled you by the strap of your sweater, slammed you into the sink bent over and smacked you as hard as he could with the spatula in his hand. Rodolfo leaned into your ear and huffed. "Don't do that again, or next time I might not be so nice." Needless to say you did it again.

First time doing this, hope it was ok ✌️😅

[amarias-yandere-blog]

"Run if you can, Darling. I will find you even among the galaxy."

-Yandere!Blade x Reader (Honkai Star Rail)

-‼️Warnings include: murder, forced affection, manhandling, physical violence, unreciprocated contact, other general yandere themes‼️

Special thanks to Myla on my discord server for reading and commenting on any mistakes for me!

Please: reblog with proper tags

You do not remember when you met him. You don't remember how. But you do remember why: a goddamn coffee shop. Craving something that would be able to keep you awake long enough to finish your rough draft for college, you headed out at one in the morning. A man with a beanie, a face mask, and sunglasses caught your attention as you ordered.

And as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

You were like a beacon in the darkest night- a wonderful drop of color in the grayest walls and dark navy seas. He grew curious about you, a seemingly innocent and tired person who was little more than a drop in the ocean of people he'd met.

But the way you walked up to him with the sweetest smile and that tired, but determined voice- oh, perhaps he had been stricken with a far more powerful disease than mara. Or perhaps he'd mistaken your curiosity for a bit of affection. All he knew was that your eyes held an innocent look in them.

Call him a sadist. Because he wanted to take that innocence for his own.

The second meeting was in the nearby library. You chalked it up to coincidence. He chalked it up to meticulous research, preparation, and an obsession to see your innocent light once again.

Things eventually developed. You fell for him. He was rather quiet, but he looked at you like no one else did in a long time. At least, from what you could see above the dark-rimmed sunglasses he wore.

The first time you actually saw his face was in an alleyway. You had accidentally run into some thugs. He was far more aggressive than you thought he needed to be, but his vermilion eyes and the way his lips were pushed into a thin, unamused line were... well, you could not lie. They were captivating. 

The thugs, bleeding from his curious black sword riddled with golden cracks, ran as he walked towards you- towering over you with one hand still on his blade and the other resting on the wall behind you.

"That was foolish of you, Y/n," he scolded before bending down, stealing your precious lips for his own. His eyes never left your form as you gasped in shock at his boldness. And he only grew bolder- pushing your face up so that he had a better angle to steal your breath. 

Your savior had completely taken you for his own. And you were fine with that, grabbing a hold of his neck for support as he took everything he could. It was like a dark ocean had enveloped your warm light at that moment, though you didn't know it.

That point on, he would disappear from your sight for weeks, if not months. Sometimes he would come to your door covered in blood but without a scratch on his body.

It was during one of those days when he had disappeared without a trace that you figured out who he was. You learned his name. 

Blade. Stellaron Hunter. Dangerous. It was recommended that you run if you saw him. That night in the alleyway became crystal clear to you. He was so skilled with the sword. He could have killed those people. No- you realized with a tear running from your face that he had. They hadn't run away. They had bled out and died while he covered your eyes from the sight using his body.

Slowly taking away your innocence. Your light. Claiming your love for himself. His vermilion eyes were a flag- all too deep and clear and that is why he hid them from you for so long.

In a panic, you decided to take the initiative and move as far away as possible. You quit your job, you moved across the world, you even threw your phone away at the drop of a dime. You were scared. And rightly so. Perhaps you would have escaped from his gaze if you had learned this from the first time you saw his face.

But it was just far too late now.

When you got out of the house, it was quiet in the apartment you shared with three other people. Two girls, one guy, and you. When you came into the living room, you were met with a gorey sight. A man stood tall, his sword hugged tight against his chest as he closed his eyes and waited patiently for a new chapter to start.

Bodies lay scattered across the room, their blood dripping from the ceiling and the walls, soaking the floor, the couch- but not a drop was on him. There was a cruel, cold wind blowing through the room.

"Bad choice, Y/n." The man suddenly spoke, all too aware of your sweet presence in the room. "Now three people have paid your price." He opened his eyes to glare at you, the sword disappearing from his grip. His hands made a wide gesture, as though inviting you to hug him. But instead, you stepped away.

"G-get away from me, Blade." You tried to sound confident. His lips curled into a smile before he put a hand on his head, laughing darkly at your puny display.

"Run." One word. One sentence and your heart dropped. "Run as fast as you can, little one, and try to escape from my heart and mind- you won't. Even if you fly to the end of the stars you will never outrun me. I will always catch you. So run, little one, give me a chase!"

His words set something inside of you off. You sprinted, slamming open doors and running down stairs with no particular purpose in mind- no destination. Just. Run.

As you ran down flights of stairs, you could hear the maniacal laughter from Blade. He sounded as though he was in no rush. You had, after all, gone to a place where he was unknown and unrecognized as a killer. He was playing the long game- letting you tire yourself out as you dashed across streets and down nasty roads, passing through large swaths of crowds and even going through narrow lanes in a rush to lose him.

But you burned out. You felt your knees get weak and your bare feet turned sore and red from the run. You gasped for air, holding your chest and resting against a wall as you took in deep gulps of air that fueled your run.

Your throat burned from the dryness of the air, and your lungs struggled to keep up with the demand you gave them.

"Is that the best you can do?" Blade asked with a laugh as he walked closer towards you. Even your effort to shake him off was in vain. You gulped down saliva and turned to run again- but your feet faltered, betrayed you. You slipped on your own blood, landing on your chest with a small shriek as loud footsteps clapped down the alley.

"Poor thing. So weak, so innocent and tired that they can't even run away." Blade mocked, pulling you up by the wrist.

He pushed you into the wall, forcing your body to move in such a way that you leaned against him, looking at him with fear in your eyes. His hands roamed, across your arms and down to your hips before pulling your head in such a way that he could once again steal your breath.

But this time around you didn't want it. You tried to pull away, kicking at his knees and pulling his arms away from your body. You elbowed him and screamed and scratched his face with your nails as you bit his tongue in self defense.

He released you for only a moment, turning you back around and pushing you up against the wall, one of his hands on your wrists to keep them above your head. The other slapped your face, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed against each other.

You watched in horror as the scratches healed in seconds, and he stuck out his tongue to prove that your damage had been far less than 'temporary'. He smirked.

"Any more cute attempts at fighting back?" He asked, shoving his face into your personal space, forcing you to look into his eyes. Your arms were growing numb now. You trembled. "I guess not. Looks like the chase is over, Darling. Now..." he leaned into you, whispered in your ear with a smile on his face. His free hand pinned your hips into the wall. "You are all mine."

And then he kissed your ear, his lips dragging across your face until they met your mouth. "Kiss me." He snarled. "Be a good little pet for me."

You never graduated from that college.

[poisonedprose]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕷. KINKTOBER DAY 21. LITTLE LAMB

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

warnings: 0.9k words, kinktober smut, mean!ghost, virgin!reader, cursing, pet names (little/lamb), corruption kink, degrading kink, dumbification kink, sir kink, publicish sex, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, pwp

masterlists

Ever since you had joined the task force, Ghost wasn’t keen on showing up on time for training. You were so incomprehensible with your small top that practically had your tits spilling out at the low neck line and your cute little strawberry shorts that you wore, and two french braids in your hair as you worked at the punching bag. Your form was almost abominable. Small punches, headphones over your ears, not paying attention to your surroundings.

Ghost tries not to, but it’s hard not to stare as your tits bounce with every punch. The guys all snicker and stare, some making fun of you while others do everything they can to get in your pants. Somehow, you were oblivious to all of it. The jokes they would make about you, or when one of them decided to flirt with you but you thought they were just being friendly.

The only thing you weren’t oblivious to was how much Ghost seemed to avoid you. He’s never made eye contact, that much you noticed. You figured your personality just wasn’t something that interested him. He never seemed to do something unless he gained from it.

Your headphones were gently pull off your ears. You snap your head back to see Ghost standing behind you, your headphones in his hands. “Yes, Lieutenant?” You ask, looking up at him with innocent eyes. He hated when you did that. “You’ve been here all day. Go rest.” He grumbled as he handed your headphones back to you.

“But, sir-” He made a grumbling sound at you words. “I don’t want to hear it when you’re sore tomorrow.” He seemed to be annoyed. “I can assure you I won’t be sore tomorrow.” You weren’t eager to protest, but you still wanted to train. You knew you weren’t the best on the team and you knew it was a miracle that you even made it on the task force.

He rolled his stern eyes, the only part visible of him through the mask. “Then let me help you. You’re going to hurt yourself. I don’t have time or patience for that.” You nodded, afraid to protest in case he would change his mind. You placed your headphones on the floor next to your water bottle.

You spun back around to look at the punching bag, awaiting Ghost’s orders. “Feet apart.” You obeyed, looking at the ground, specifically at your feet, to gauge how far apart you pulled your feet before returning to look at the punching bag. “Stand up straight.” You hummed in confusion. You felt like you were already standing up straight. He sighed and placed his hands on your waist, forcing you even straighter. You made a small yelp sound, which made Ghost chuckle.

“Don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He remarks, leaving his hands on your waist. “Sorry, sir.” You muttered, face heating up from his touch. It was silent for a moment as you waited for his next order but it never came. You turned your head slightly to look at him, silently asking what was going on.

“What are you looking at? Did I tell you to look at me?” He spat and you quickly looked back at the punching bag. “Sorry, sir.” You said once again. “Dumb girl.” He mumbled but you heard it clear as day. "I didn't think I needed to tell you to hit the bag. Didn't know you were so incompetent." He continues, his hands still on your waist. As much as you hated to admit it, his words had an effect on you. You clenched your thighs together, biting back the urge to whine or something along those lines.

"Is that all it takes to get you goin'?" He chuckles, clearly noticing your actions. I mean, after all, he was trained to notice minuscule things like that. His grip on you grew tighter. He leaned down, covered mouth right next to you. "Answer me." He growled. "Yes, sir." You answered immediately, ashamed how his touch and words alone made your panties all wet and left you with a feeling you weren't familiar with.

His chest pressed against your back, one of his hands snaking down to cup your pussy through your adorable shorts. You gasped to which he snickered. "This is what you get. Paradin' around in those cute little clothes. Bet you flashed your tits to anyone who asked." He degraded. "No, I haven't!" You pouted, though he couldn't see your face. "Oh? No? Is that so?" He said, condescension dripping off his tongue.

He slid his hands up your body, one hand over each tit. "Everyone watches 'em bounce when you're punchin' the bag. Gettin' everyone hard without even realizin' it, huh little lamb?" His thick british accent rang through your ears, your brain getting all fuzzy. "'m sorry, sir." You utter weakly, timidness in your voice. "Ya better fuckin' be."

Ghost slid his hands back down your body, swiftly sliding a hand into your shorts. "You like this, lamb? You like when your lieutenant shoves his hand down your pants?" You nod but that doesn't seem to satisfy him. "Use your words." He commands as he applies pressure on your clit. "Y-yes, sir." You gasp out, never having felt the pleasure he was giving you. "I'm gonna ruin you. Ya hear me? I'm gonna split you in half with my cock." He promised, pulling your shorts down.

You made no move to stop him or protest. Your eyes landed on the door as the cool air hit your soaked cunt. Anyone could walk in at any second to see you being manhandled by your lieutenant but you couldn't care less. A string of your arousal stuck to your panties. "Look at you, lamb. So ready for me to abuse your hole." He coos.

He bends you slightly, your hands meeting the wall with your back arched. He moves his hands to your hips, grinding his hips into your ass for his own pleasure. “Look at this tight pussy. Can barely stick a finger in there.” He snickers as he slides a finger into your entrance. You moaned, only ever feeling your own fingers before and they never once felt the way Ghost’s did.

“Gonna get you so dumb on my cock.” He mutters and adds another finger, stretching you out with a sting. He makes a calm pace, fingering you and slowly working you to your orgasm. But, of course, he doesn’t let you reach it, pulling out before you felt the build up you desired.

You were about to complain but the sound of his pants being unzipped kept you quiet. “Gonna make a mess out of this pussy.” He rubs the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you before giving in and shoving his cock into your cunt. You whine, louder than you would’ve liked, the stretch of his cock so much more intense than his fingers. “Bloody hell.” He groans, not letting you adjust as he snaps his hips into the plush of your ass.

His thrusts are rough and you can’t get a single word out. Your eyes are rolling back in your head, drool dribbling out of the corner of your mouth. “Bet you’ve been wantin’ this. Huh? You’ve been wantin’ me to fuck your virgin pussy, little lamb?” His voice is breathy, and sweat starts to glisten his skin. You want to respond, knowing he might get mad if you don’t but all that leaves your lips are whimpers. “Of course, y’have, you dirty dirty girl .”

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝Oh, oh-oh❞

Konig x male!reader | nsfw, smut | sub. bttm. reader (AMAB) | wc: 3,747

warnings: public sex, crossdressing, feminization, anal fingering, blowjob, slight sexual humiliation towards reader, light degradation, dacryphilia

in an attempt to win an argument with your boyfriend, you hit a few low blows but he bests you by bringing up how pathetic you were from a few nights ago.

"God, it is freezing out there" A large hand brings you closer to Konig's side. He rubs your arm though the pressure is barely felt through the thick coat you wore but the gesture is sweet. "I thought the Earth was supposed to get warmer, you know I'm starting to believe that that's just a scam" Konig chuckles. "You are just not built for this weather, babe" He teases as he slings a heavy arm around your shoulder to reach towards your covered face. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not built to survive inhuman levels of temperature, I'm sorry only one of us can be an operator for a private military contractor — Mpfh!" The same gloved hand that offered you comfort mere seconds ago was now planted over your face, tugging your knitted cap down and over your eyes in the process. "Schatz", he warns. [Darling.] His tone is still light despite it. The streets were more or less bare due to the weather but the shops were still aglow with lights. Those poor, poor, retail workers. The only thing staving off feeling completely guilty for stepping into one of the shops and making the already miserable worker have to work in horrid weather was the fact that due to Konig's work relocating the both of you here, your wardrobes were in desperate need of attention. "Hey," He greets them with a nod, his eyes squishing in a façade of a grin. His face was hidden with a mask which he finds a lot of comfort in not only for the fact that he worries someone from work finds out about his face and finds him (or worse, you) but it was less straining to mask his expressions in a conversation.

You rip his hand away from your face with a huff, walking ahead of your boyfriend as a way to show your obvious displeasure. Konig just chuckles and follows along, grabbing a basket. The shop wasn't that big but the brand was a household favourite.

It was a little pricy but Konig had more money than he knew what to do with at times, he can indulge. Plus, the quality and longevity of the clothes were worth it — it was all ethically made as well! A win in both of your books. "Schatz, you can't be mad that I remind you not to speak of my work aloud" his accented voice chides as you look for the basics of a wardrobe. T-shirts in neutral colours, jeans, underwear, and a new winter jacket since yours was doing shit at keeping you warm. "Yeah, yeah, because secret service assassins are constantly listening to you" An arched brow is thrown your way as your larger-than-life boyfriend shadows you. A sigh escapes you and with a dramatic wave of your arm, you place the back of your hand on your forehead and bemoan; "You're so important, schnucki". [sweetie-pie] "A real James Bond, I'm so lucky to be with you". Konig bursts into laughter. The pop song playing on the speakers do little to cover how gleeful the sound was. You stubbornly look ahead, finding immense interest in the different shades of green the t-shirt was made in. He all but towers behind you as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pressing his covered nose to the top of your head as his chest rumbled with amusement. "You're extremely silly, hübscher". [handsome] "Compared to you? Everyone is, obviously" his eyes gleam and his arm squeezes you closer. It makes you halt your movement. That familiar pressure against you, the aura of heaviness suddenly draping over you. Konig can't help but think of how truly lucky you are. How many soldiers, mercenaries, and lowly scum had he crushed with his bare hands just like this? Too many to even count. He preferred keeping his thoughts of work and you on very different sides of the fences but whenever you throw a silly fit he can't help but coo inwardly at it. The blood he's knee-deep in, the strength in his sinewy muscles, and the rank he's earned by his sheer brutality and determination all purr in delight at your stubbornness. At your brattiness. You feel something poking at your back. A feat only Konig's cock could manage despite the thick coat you're wearing. Well, this wasn't a complete shock. After his return, the two of you would spend hours annoying your neighbours, however, your upheaval from your last house was made in haste.

Konig managed to squeeze in some frottaging in the shower last night but jetlag won over. Perhaps that's why it took so little to rile Konig up. He sways and you do too. Konig eyes his peripherals, noting the workers were pretending to look busy reorganizing some jewellery on a gondola so he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"Let's look in a different section," he knows you're about to retort so he grabs your chin and tilts your head backwards that way he can leer down at you.

"Command, not suggestion". He enjoys the way your eyes scan his. The flicker of emotions, the way you wet your lips and a hint of your teeth brushing over your lower lips. He knows the blood pooling around your cheeks isn't just from the cold. Your eyes flutter close then open and he grins behind his mask as he releases your chin/neck.

Konig guides you towards the women's section with a steady gait. A worker gives an apprehensive glance but admittingly got far too embarrassed to stare once you stopped in front of the more...sexy bedroom set display.

Silk lingerie didn't last long in your bedroom sessions with Konig. He's gentle when he wants to be — those lazy morning sex with his tongue working you open and his hands stroking your dick to completion until you're limp and boneless was bliss — but his fetish for dressing you up in delicate lingerie sets always ends with your legs and hips needing a few days to recuperate. His size was another reason why sex with Konig was utterly satisfying and sore inducing but it's not like you dislike it (quite the opposite). "Which one, hm?" This time his arms are circling your waist. It was a shame that he was so covered up because the sight of his veins across the back of his scarred, calloused, hands always made you shiver. God, you can practically see the way his biceps are flexing as he continues to sway again. The silk clothes are all much too raunchy. Suddenly, it's too warm under your layers but that's not the exact reason you're squirming.

Most of them are cute. Feminine-cut clothes that would hang too low on your hips with thin straps that would slip down one shoulder. The ones that weren't cute were the classic lingerie dresses. Their length is so short you knew it would tickle the back of your thighs and hide nothing once bent over. The way it was tailored to hug just under the breasts was meant to give it definition but seeing as you were lacking in that department you'd think Konig wouldn't be a big fan? Wrong. He's as horny as an animal in heat when it came to you but he did have a thing for the way your "tits" couldn't fill out the certain clothes he got you. Maybe he just has a "thing" for you in general. He was insatiable. Konig stops swaying. You snap back into the present and furrow your brows. "Schatz", he purrs. "Yeah, yeah, I'm..." The black silk set catches your eye and you reach for it to feel the lace that lines the bottom hem. Pleased by your choice, Konig reaches for the hanger to pluck it from your hands and into the basket it goes. "Changing room...Mein König?" [My King?] His mask hides his sharp grin but his eyes darken from that warm coffee-coloured eyes to pools of sin.

The changing room was foreign. New country, new city, new surroundings. A sense of relief washed over you as you noted the wooden doors, glad they weren't just curtains held together by some loose velcro straps or hooked onto the opposite wall. The changing room hallway was dimmer than usual but once Konig had opened the doors to the room, it was clear why. He let out a low whistle at the sight of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors backlit by LED strips. The dimension of the space was large enough to not feel too claustrophobic — those mirrors seemed to increase the space as well. You shed your jacket, spotting a stool in one corner of the room meant to be a place to put your clothes, bags, or perhaps someone's horny partner to sit on as they look at you expectantly. The sight of Konig sitting on the tiny seat was comical, you pursed your lips to stop laughing but it couldn't be helped. Konig took off his cap and mask, effortlessly reaching towards the hooks on the wall to hang them before he leans back and tilts his head at you. His long, toned, legs stretched out before him. It invades your space. Overwhelming the room with more of him until the giggles fade away. Unwilling to accept his silence, you prod further. "What? You look cute, okay. All awkward in the corner, is this how you were in high school? All limbs like a spider, bet you were an eye-catcher, baby" He doesn't seem phased by your teasing. With his mask off, you can now ogle his face. That scar on the bridge of his aquiline nose, those strong jaws and sunken eye-sockets that give his eyelid a more hooded look. His top lip is thinner than his bottom, with a prominent cupid bow. Feeling emboldened you shed your knitted cap then your jacket and let it drop to the floor. The scarf twirls around your wrist as you walk forward and bend over to level your eye line with Konig. His downward-facing lashes almost always tickle his cheek — well, when they haven't been burnt off from his close proximity to explosives and fire. Thankfully, they're intact this time and you brush your thumb across his cheek, admiring their length. "You're the cutest little boy, you know?" his eye twitches. Still, he does nothing. Konig simply keeps his eyes on your face. You lean in, breath ghosting along his lips while you grin. "Come on, nothing to say, Mein König? Usually, you're the one that's so fucking loud, whimpering, growling, grunting —" Konig jerks forward. You hold your ground. His silence was both nerve-wracking and gratifying. "Ausziehen. Na." [Strip. Now.] He knows you know what he's saying. There's recognition in those perfectly shaped eyes. Leaning back, he adjusts his broad shoulders and eyes those shapely legs impatiently. "Ich werde nicht zweimal fragen." [I will not ask twice.]

He likes this changing room. Not only could he see the expressions on your face as you strip, but he could also see the view from behind thanks to the mirrors. The lights cast you in an almost angelic glow, a rim lighting that makes your skin all but glimmer. You're bent over, pulling your pants down, when the sounds of your moans fill the room. You nearly split your skull open in your haste to grab the phone from Konig's hand. He lifts his leg and his boot pushes onto your stomach, knocking you back and making you stumble onto the floor. You're almost naked, completely defenceless. Konig does not stand. He simply sits and knocks the toe of his boot to your thigh and jerks his chin to the basket close to you. Meanwhile, your moans are still playing. The wet noises of skin slapping against skin, the mattress creaking and the headboard slamming on the wall. "Konig! That's way — That is way too loud!" He splits open your thighs with the same boot and you squeak as he applies pressure to your crotch. The icy coolness from the outside has you shivering as you clamp your thighs around his ankles but he simply presses. Your high-pitched moan elicits a chuckle from Konig. That motherfucker mimics your moan, his stoic face turning annoyingly expressive as he mocked yours. His giddiness is hard to contain. He turns the screen to you and keeps on echoing the noises you're making. "Oh, oh-oh! Oh fuck! Konig! Right there!"

"Point taken!" You plead, blindly reaching behind you to grab the silk dress. You hear the shuffle of feet in the changing room hallway, hushed whispers but Konig does not pause the video. He simply lets it play as you hurriedly slip on the outfit. What a sight you were.

On the floor, pathetically slipping on a raunchy outfit while your crotch was still being stepped on. The straps are falling off your shoulders and your flustered state does little to assist. Your hair is askew and your cheeks are warmer than the fucking sun. The video stops just as you reach your orgasm and Konig removes his boot. "Strip. Fully."

He tosses the phone on the floor and leans forward. His elbows are on his knees and he gazes down upon you like a hungry wolf. After an awkward shimmy, the only thing protecting you from the wooden floors of the changing room was the thin silk. Your cock was tenting the front and no amount of tugging the material down was going to help you. "I think I may have been gone for too long, yes? My slut is much too disobedient as of late and getting more and more perverse. You're so hard after letting everyone in the store hear how pathetic you are when you take my cock, have you no shame?" Konig clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth when you avert your gaze. When you meet eyes, he's unbuckling his belt with one hand. "Do you even deserve to see my cock?"

You shake your head. No, no, of course, you don't! You're just a whore, a perverted boy who belongs to be on the floor. Even the lingerie you wore was too modest for you. Konig could tell you were edging towards that cloudy state. His cheek twitches as he suppresses a knowing grin. "That's right. You don't. But I'm allowing you to" "Th-Thank you, Mein Konig" He spreads his legs and pats his inner thigh after he had unzipped and pulled his heavy cock out. You gulp at the sight of it. It was damn near monstrous — a cock a few people could only ever see in pornography. Crawling on all fours, you nuzzle his thigh as thanks before grabbing it by the base. God, it was so hefty. A delicious pink tip and a few delicate splatters of moles decorated Konig's cock. The mouthwatering veins were given kisses and yet Konig remains silent as he watches with rapt interest in how you worshipped his big dick. "Perk your ass out. More" You're confused as to what he intends to do. Perhaps he wanted to see your asshole winking back at him in the mirror while you suck him off? That seems likely. You spread your knees and arch your back as you suck on his tip, loosening your jaw and covering your teeth as you close your eyes. Konig removes his glove. It doesn't take long for you to start drooling. He swipes two fingers under his dick, around the ring of your mouth, then leans forward to slip them in. Your choked reply is ignored by Konig. It's hard to breathe. You can feel his fingers scissor your muscles open all while he envelops you in his scent, his warmth, his everything. You feel like he's consuming your every being. His cock is halfway in, your jaw is aching and anyone unlucky enough to walk into the changing area would most definitely hear you gagging on it. Your eyes are watering, huffing through your nose as you feel your hips jerk without any conscious thought behind it. He's fucking you open on his fingers and he knows where to aim to make you all but spineless. There's this distinct dick-shaped bump in your throat. Konig is silent. When he pulls out his fingers and cock you cough, cushioning your face on his thigh as you catch your breath. One of the straps is falling off your shoulder and the dress hangs off your chest in a whorish display thanks to your flat chest. Konig's breathing is faster than usual but he is wordless as he grabs your wet chin.

"Kuh...Konig — Ngh!" You're looking at your reflection. Legs as wobbly as a newborn fawn as he holds you up. The dress is bunched over the curve of your ass. You're jerked forward until you slam into the mirror. A pained whimper is replied with a harsh slap to the back of your thighs. He uses his boots again. This time to kick your ankles apart. The fingers on your chin force you to look forward as Konig's heavy cock is placed on your back.

His face places itself on the crook of your shoulder. Those dark eyes swallow the lights from the mirror as he takes pleasure from your melted expression. You still taste his precum on your tongue, jaws still slack and lungs still desperately trying to swallow air. His thumb on your hole can feel the way you clench around nothing and Konig finally breaks his silence. "You are so filthy" You don't deny him of this fact. His cock pushes on the tight ring of muscles and you moan, fogging up the glass as he pushes, pushes, and pushes until he's inside and oh fuck. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. He fills you up so well. Every inch violated, comforted, by him. The pressure is so overwhelming but so familiar and you're getting on the tip of your toes to perk your ass out more. He watches the way your ass swallows inch after meaty inch. "Mein Süßer" [My sweet one] Konig groans into your ear. He's gripping onto your waist so tightly you know bruises will bloom and that thought alone makes you press your cheek on the mirror so you can look at him from over your shoulder. "Mein Konig, please...please, please, please" He's been far too mean and you're begging so sweetly. Konig thrusts in and out of you so harshly that your breath is being knocked out of you. He's kissing you, you're barely there to reciprocate. It's messy, it's hot, it's too much. His hand thumps onto the mirror and the lights flicker but neither of you cares. He's fucking into you so good you can't think. Konig is mouthing your neck, one hand on your waist while the other is groping everywhere, anywhere — as long as it was you. That's all that mattered to Konig. You're being far too loud. Both of you. There's no way no one knows what you're getting up to. Your breaths are fogging up the mirror and there's a ripping sound as Konig tugs on the strap too harshly. "Buh-Baby!" he shushes you. "I'll pay, fuck, I'll pay for anything you want, this boypussy is worth it. So fucking good, so tight " he snaps his hips into you and you choke out a cry at his name. "Fühlt sich gut an, nicht wahr?" [Feels good, doesn't it?] Your chest is now in full view and so Konig grabs at it, twisting your nipples harshly. You're sobbing, tossing your head back as plead for him to slow down. Tears are now streaming down your face, lashes clumping together as you groan out, hand prints being left on the smooth surface as you desperately attempt to grasp at anything to ground yourself. "So sehe ich Dich gerne". [I like seeing you this way.]

Konig grins wickedly. He knows you're close, he can feel it in the way you're tightening up around his cock. He's not that far behind and he was determined for the two of you to cum at the same time. Thankfully, Konig knows just what to do to push you over the edge. Not that it would take much. All that foreplay, that humiliation, already made you a stroke away from jizzing on the floor. His sharp canines sink into the juncture of your shoulder and neck and you yelp as you paint the floor and mirror with your cum. "Ah, fuck!" you tightened around him like a vice and Konig stills as he empties his balls into you. His thighs twitch and his hips jerk a few times as he pants to catch his breath. "Woah!" Konig holds you up, laughing breathlessly as he hugs you. Your head is lolling to the side so he gently leans your head back, stroking your neck and chest until you're able to sharpen your eyes back into focus. "Are you alright, Schatz?" he's flattening his palm on your chest to feel the way your heart thuds against your ribcage. You nod, gulping and panting as you try to form sentences. He's patient as he carefully maneuverers you to lean fully against him. "Fuck, why'd you have to cum in my ass" Konig snorts as he lets you peel away to brace yourself on the mirror. He would say sorry but he's not. The sight of his cum dripping out of your hole has his cock twitching all over again. While you're catching your breath he reaches for his phone. The sound of his camera going off makes you roll your eyes. He's always taking pictures or videos. Says it keeps him occupied when he misses you a bit too much while he's deployed. Who are you to deny your boyfriend his needs? Wordlessly, you jut your hips back and spread your ass for him. He thanks you. It was silent as you both clean up (as much as you could) and when everyone was dressed you try not to limp on your way out. The workers all avoid looking in your direction and you groan as you hide your face in Konig's side. He simply tosses an arm around your shoulder, feeling smug despite the bashful blush under his facemask. "We can never shop here again" you mutter "There are more shops" Konig comforts.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 11

Again, I am working on Paper Hearts and Sweet Home Indiana until they are complete and Paper Hearts just snuck in another chapter so that was fun.

In this we have Corroded Coffin trying to change the culture of metal and the band meets Bob Newby.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

****

Celeste Baptiste was a miracle worker in her field and everyone knew it. Producers and recording studios were chomping at the bit to work with The Fallen the second she put out feelers that their current producer and studio just weren’t meeting the band’s needs.

They decided to go with Starcourt Recording studio as it was closer to home for a lot of the members. Which of course pleased Spence to no end, as it meant that he got to spend more time with Nadia.

They were currently interviewing for producers and had yet to find on that worked for them.

Enter Bob Newby.

****

Bob wasn’t used to working with bands that had alter egos. He heard of them of course. Slipknot, Daft Punk, and others. But he wasn’t a fan of secrecy for the most part and beyond the basic NDAs of contracts, he wasn’t a fan of those really, either.

But there was something about these four men that pulled him in. Especially when he learned that their previous producer had been trying to do with them. It was like he hadn’t listened to them at all and was trying to force them into what he thought metal meant.

So he thought he’d at least speak with them. If they didn’t like him or he didn’t like them, he’d walk away, no skin off his nose.

They walked in all wearing more casual versions of their onstage personas. They wore hoodies and masks of their colors to hind their face and hair, but the rest was all very down to earth. Bob supposed it made sense, after all, they couldn’t record in their tight leather outfits.

He was surprised to see that the drummer’s mask’s eyes were covered unlike the rest of the band and he couldn’t help but wonder if his eyes would give him away, like having some kind of heterochromia or something like that.

“Hey, I’m Bob Newby,” he greeted. “Everyone take a seat. Thanks for coming to meet me at my house studio, I’m two days away from a deadline and am really crunching it.”

“Of course,” the one in white said. He was the only one’s whose mask didn’t completely cover his face. “I would apologize for the subterfuge but it’s kind of our shtick.”

Bob smiled. “So I’ve been told. Tell me a little bit about yourselves.”

The one in white smiled. “I’m Abbadon, I’m the lead singer. I can play guitar, piano, and violin, but we don’t usually incorporate that stuff into our music.”

“Is there a reason why not?” he asked, clasping his hands together and leaning forward on his knees.

The band members looked at each other in shock.

“The label wanted us to stick to metal,” the one in blue said, “They were okay with Abbadon on rhythm guitar to help fill out the sound, but they didn’t want any of that other ‘stuff’.” He put air quotes around stuff.

“They do realize that metal and heavy rock have been using piano for as long as the genre has been a thing, right?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Again the band looked shocked.

Bob sighed. He held up his hands. “Wait, wait... we’ll get into all that once all the introductions have been made.”

The one in red and the one in white shared what he assumed was a concerned glance.

“You weren’t told about us?” the one in red asked.

“Oh, no, I was,” Bob replied with a grin. “But I want to hear it from you.”

So they went around and introduced themselves and he was starting form a picture about the band’s dynamic.

“Right,” he said, “I’ve listened to your other albums, seen recordings of your live shows, and even watched interviews and this is my takeaway on your sound. Your last producer was trying to force you into harmonies and melodies of early thrash metal of the 1980s, which isn’t your style at all.”

Astraeus, the one in midnight blue, spoke from his place on the floor, “That’s what we kept trying to tell him. He said that the sound was coming back and if we wanted to compete with the likes of Metallica and Corroded Coffin then that’s direction we needed to be heading as a band.”

Bob let out a long exasperated sigh. “But you can’t compete with them.” He held up his hands when Azrael, the one in black, and Asmodeus, the one in red, bristled. “I’m not saying you’re not as good as they are. Absolutely not. But you’re not in the same genre of metal that they are. It would be like comparing the Rolling Stones and Beatles because they were both British rock bands.”

Astraeus and Azrael shared a glance, one Bob couldn’t interpret with their masks on.

Azrael rolled his eyes. “We’re what our detractors love to call nu metal as if music can’t have more than one sound.”

Bob nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You’re vocals tend toward the melodic over the screaming or more guttural sounds of thrash metal. So I would focus on that. The label sent me over the demo and you’ve got a lot of great stuff here. Stuff the other guy didn’t want to touch. Some of the more...” he cocked his head back and forth, “blatantly queer? LGBTQ+? Gay stuff?”

“Queer works,” Abbadon said with a wry note to his voice.

Bob nodded again. “Who is the writer/writers?”

Astraeus and Azrael raised their hands.

“With a little lyrical help from Abbadon,” Asmodeus said darkly.

Abbadon rubbed his back to calm the other man as he bristled at his other bandmates.

“So how does your writing process work?” Bob said ducking his head to his smile.

Astraeus explained how Abbadon would write down his thoughts and feelings and that he would turn them into lyrics for Azrael to turn into songs.

“So I’m guessing that at least either Abbadon or Astraeus is some variation of the rainbow spectrum?” he pressed the band.

The two men in question shared a glance, Astraeus nodded.

“I’m bi and Astraeus is gay,” Abbadon confirmed. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Bob threw laughed. “No not at all. In fact just the opposite. I want you two to come out.”

He couldn’t see their faces but he could feel the blank stares as their eyes bore into him.

“I understand that is a daunting feeling,” he murmured kindly. “But I think it would really boost your image, allow you to be more open with your songs, especially with Starlight Eyes, and it would make more metal artists be more comfortable with an LGBTQ+ label. Because right not a lot of metal stars are out and all of them have come out while being so massively famous that they could ‘take the risk’.”

Asmodeus and Azrael shared a look.

“The two of us are straight though...” Asmodeus said, “I’m literally famous for women throwing themselves at me, is them being out going to hurt either us or them?”

Bob tilted his head to the side. That was a fair question and one that should be considered. But he shook his head. “It shouldn’t. No one is going to expect the whole band to be queer. Take Corroded Coffin for example. Other than their bassist, Brian Martin being ace, he is still attracted to women romantically,” he held up his hands in defense when it seemed that a couple of the band were about to interject, “and I’m not saying he doesn’t count as queer, because I’m not. But the only one with what the average person would consider queer is their frontman, Eddie Munson. He is an out gay man, but even he didn’t come out until they were selling out arenas.”

The other members started teasing their lead singer, ribbing him and making low probably ribald comments.

Bob raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat.

Azrael turned him and Bob could feel the absolute glee radiating off the man. “Abbadon here, has a crush on Eddie.”

His face split into a large grin. “Aren’t you scheduled to tour with them next year?”

Abbadon coughed and cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’re working on that.”

Their manager who had been waiting in the corner on her phone for the meeting to conclude turned to the band. “What do you think, boys? Is Bob our man for the job?”

He looked up at her and then back to the band. “So what do you say? You ready to rock the metal world?”

Abbadon spoke for all of them when he said, “Yeah. Yeah we are.”

****

In the end it didn’t matter what Steve and his band wanted for the tour dates because Gareth’s little stunt landed him in rehab. And Corroded Coffin’s label refused to tour without him.

Which had pissed Eddie off. They had made a deal with Gareth and he had broken the deal first. And as shit as it was, getting a touring drummer was easier than replacing anyone else in the band.

Eddie and his band were doing an interview about Gareth’s sudden stint in rehab, talking about the future of the band.

Only they weren’t dressed like they normally were. They were still in jeans and t-shirts. But their jeans were in various shades of blue and Brian wore a plain white tee, Jeff wore a Taylor Swift Eras band shirt, and Eddie wore pale pink tee with David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust on it.

In short they did not look like a metal band. They looked like three guys, just shooting shit.

It had been a slow change over the summer. Every time the band went for an interview that wasn’t at an event one of them would dress slightly different. Then two or three of them would wear something a little less ‘metal’, until they were all dressed like they were.

The interviewer, Jenna Peterson looked as uncomfortable to be interviewing them as they looked to be interviewed.

“So let’s start with something softer,” she said, crossing her legs and simpering, “so why don’t we first first talk about your shift in style.”

Jeff threw back his head and laughed. “Good god! We don’t wear the ‘uniform’ for a couple of interviews and we get the clothes question.”

Brian shook his head.

“You think all those leather and chains and shit is comfortable?” Eddie asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe, maybe not. But it sure is hot as hell,” she said cocking her head.

Jeff snorted and ran his tongue over his lips. “We were getting tired of the hate metal stars get for wearing anything but leather and black denim. Do you know how fucking hot that shit gets?”

“Like there was a bassist from a huge metal band,” Eddie said, agreeing, “that was papped wearing a graphic tee and cargo shorts standing outside of a shop where his wife was shopping and suddenly everyone was talking about how he sold out and that he was disrespecting the genre. Dude was sixty or some shit. If he can’t wear what makes him comfortable without being told he’s selling out, than what hope is there for up and coming bands from being shunned because they ‘don’t conform’ to the aesthetic of being in a metal band.”

Jenna smirked and tilted her head. “Is this about The Fallen and their assertion that they wouldn’t have been welcomed if they had been themselves.”

Jeff and Eddie shared a glance.

“I won’t lie,” Jeff said, “and say that wasn’t a part of it. But it was also because one of my good friends from high school was a huge metal fan. Loved all the greats. Metallica, Iron Maiden, Dio, Black Sabbath...like was the biggest fan of all of them. Had all their albums on vinyl, posters on her wall, but other than the odd band t-shirt she sure as hell didn’t dress like a metalhead.”

Jenna leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand, elbow propped up on her knee. “So what did she dress like?”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. “She was a cheerleader with a fondness for pink and frilly. She loved floral prints and cardigans for fuck’s sake.”

Jenna sat back in shock. “Wait, really?”

Brian nodded, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. “Yeah. She’s our manager now. But the push back she would get for not dressing like a metalhead and just being a girl was repulsive.”

“We apologized to her about not trying to change the culture around what a metalhead should look like,” Jeff said, “and she waved us off. Said that if it had bothered her she would have said something herself. But she was the one that helped carefully curate what we wore so that it went smoother.”

“We’ve been talking to other bands, too,” Brian said. “Getting them to help. We are supposed to the genre about non-conformity but here we are pushing a conformity on people in the same story, different font.”

Jenna returned to her simpering, she batted her eyelashes at Jeff. “Is The Fallen among those you’ve asked to help?”

“No,” came Eddie’s blunt answer.

She reared her head back in shock and blinked at him for a moment. “Why not? It seems to me that of all the bands to need to dial it back, The Fallen would be at the top of that list.”

Brian snapped his fingers. “And that would be why. They don’t need to dial it back. Maybe they would be as famous as they are without the masks and shit, but now it’s integral to who they are as a band. And we aren’t going to make them change to make other people more comfortable.”

Jenna uncrossed and crossed her legs. “Well, good luck. So you just finished your ninth album, tell me about that process.”

They talked about the album and Gareth’s battle with substance abuse.

The interview never got less awkward, but Corroded Coffin handled it with such grace that a lot of people were calling Jenna out on social media for being the absolute worst choice for that interview.

****

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

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[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love...

Chapter: I -Eyes-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 2.1k+

♠︎Warning: physical abuse, dead animal, non-consensual touching, murder, stalking, nudity.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist

Far away from the mellow kingdoms, was the realm of Jeon. From far away, the gloomy, blue-grey sky was evident. No one from other kingdoms even dared to look towards that domain.

It reeked of sins. From far away, one could hear the screams of the commoners. No one dared to even think about following the path after the sun dimmed down. But the thing was that the kingdom was miles and miles away. It took almost three days to travel from the nearest kingdom to Jeon’s realm by horse. That single fact sent chills down others’ spines. Even from that far away, they could hear the wrong happenings.

The skies above his realm looked dull, blue-grey. The clouds of madness always covered the sky. It was all hunted. The King haunted the realm. His bureaucrats danced with the movements of his fingers. They were his puppets and he was the puppet master.

No one has ever seen his face other than those who worked in his castle. The commoners always heard that sometimes, the King himself would come patrolling but all of his warriors wore heavy masks. Dressed in black cloaks hiding half of their face. The lower half would be covered with black cloth. Metal chains dangling from the big wide metal ferronnière.

They rode their dark horses. Whenever they passed by, the zone would become quiet, eerily quiet. No one in their right mind would raise their head to look at them and go against them. The fear among those peasants was his majesty's pride. He loved the look of fear, the way their eyes trembled, and mouths mumbled for forgiveness even though they did nothing wrong.

This was just one per cent of his wickedness. The dirty secrets remained in his realm but his dirty secrets remained in his castle.

The castle.

It was far away from the region where commoners lived. Everything that came in the way of the castle was creepy. The mist always covered the path. They say that this mist was the souls of those who died there. And there were many… mounds of them. And most of them didn’t die naturally.

It was as if dark mist spiralled over the realm.

“Coronis! Bring back the calf! Draco has to go to get meat from the Henrys,” Coronis’ mother asked from the kitchenette.

“In a moment!” Coronis looked at her reflection through the water in a wooden bucket. Her hair was black, her pretty eyes were painted with Kohl. Her lips were chapped but the tint from the beetroot she patted a while ago was making her lips look luscious. And the natural tint on her cheeks.

She was known to be beautiful in the village. Men felt honoured even if she breathed in their path. Though she didn’t come out of her shack as much. She lived there with her parents, Draco and Martha, an older brother named Onyx, and a younger sister of eight years, Circe. She herself was eighteen soon to turn nineteen.

After being satisfied with her looks, she hummed and went inside and picked up the rope and took a sharp knife with her. Letting her mother know, she stepped out to get her calf back.

Knife.

She wasn't going to kill anyone. Unless.

The chilly air threaded through her hair and her white gown fluttered along the wind.

On her way to the meadows, she saw a man beating a woman, most likely his wife, with a whip. Her face was red and blue from the punches she had received. But no one paid any attention to them.

A little further, she saw a dead pig on the side of the path, and an old man was slicing it open. Coronis scrunched her eyebrows and looked away. It was common to see these heartless humans doing bloody shit.

This realm moved with the saying ‘You live until you survive.’

Near the meadows, she saw a girl being touched by much older men, probably without her wish. Her cheeks were soaking from tears. Her delicate hands were trying to push away the men but her hands were delicate and those men were dedicated.

Reaching the meadows, she made it quick to find the calf. Seeing her stamp on the calf, she tied the rope around its neck and pulled it to follow her back to their shack.

There were stamps embroidered on every cattle. It was to mark them as their property. The one's without the stamp were usually killed for food, leather, and jewellery. The animals that were bred to be killed were reserved only for the castle. The men would come on their horses and would fill up their carriers with goods and take them to the castle.

As Coronis was returning, the sound of horses’ clops started coming closer along with their neigh. She knew better and pulled her calf to the corner of the path and kept walking. The horses started passing her. The village quieted down. Only the horses and their riders could be heard.

The path was broken and uneven, and small and big rocks were peeking out of the ground. A man stumbled and fell in front of a horse that was coming from the opposite direction, making it stop. The man got off the horse and picked up that old man with one hand and made him stand again.

“How dare you stumble our way!” He yelled. “Do you not see who is crossing?!”

The old man fell on his knees and held the feet of the patrolman. “I-I-I st-stumbled a-and fell, master! P-please, for-forgive me!”

The patrol man’s chuckle could be heard. He pulled out his sword and made a quick job and sliced his head off.

To Coronis’ bad luck, the head fell just in front of her feet. His bony face was ugly. His teeth were rotting and his beard was dirty. The blood was pouring from where his neck was supposed to be. She looked up at the man who was now getting back on his horse.

But her eyes fell on the man behind him. His eyes were boring holes into her skull. They all wore black cloth from the nose and down, and their foreheads had metal ferronnière but his was heavier and had sharp, long spikes pointing out. The chains were dangling down and were attached to his mask, decorating his face. He wore heavy chains around his neck. His horse was different from others.

She knew he was not any other guard man. He was different. He held power. To what strength, she wasn't aware of that. The higher-ups kept themselves hidden away from the eyes of the commoners.

Coronis didn’t look away from his eyes. They looked into each other’s eyes. Her eyebrows were frowned up. Her face was covered in disgust.

Slowly, they passed by. But that one man remained behind and passed even slowly all while looking into her eyes without blinking. Just like her, he too had kohl painted around his eyes.

She looked at him up and down, his fingers had heavy jewellery and metal nails attached to them. His cloak covered his head. (Lower left picture in the mood board).

His eyes held darkness. The darkness in his eyes was darker than the whole realm and the night itself. He screamed menace. After what felt like a long moment, he passed by and kept moving while she looked at his back.

It all happened slowly. The picture was stuck in her head. It sent chills through her spine. She wished to never cross her path with him. Ever again.

Turning back around, she inhaled sharply seeing that head still laying there. She kicked it away and kept walking.

The moment she opened the door to her shack, her mother's voice rang, “Those men passed by! Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I'm alright,” she said and went inside the slot that she shared with her sister. “Where is Circe?!” she asked.

“She was in the slot!” her mother said.

“Circe!” Coronis called and went outside. “Circe!” the younger girl turned around and looked at her older sister. “Go back inside! How many times do I need to tell you not to go outside without any of us by your side?” She held her arm and dragged her inside. “And the escorts are marching outside! Do you know how dangerous it is?”

“I'm sorry! I wanted to wander around for a moment. It has been days since I last saw the outside world!” Circe huffed.

“Outside world?! Do you know how bad it is?!” she held her head out of frustration. “Ugh, you will realize one day.”

Coronis was about to turn around when she saw someone outside the window but with a blink of her eye, it was gone. She shook her head and exhaled.

Maybe she was tired.

…

“Here is your liquor, majesty,” one of the guards bowed as he presented the drink to the king.

The King took the glass. He removed his mask from below and drank it all in one inhale and threw the glass away. “Lord, that is Danny's workshop. He still hasn't paid us the tariff. He is behind by one day and owes ten stones.”

The King smirked under his mask and nodded. He turned his horse and proceeded towards his castle. “You know what to do.”

His eyes moved towards a house where that lady with calf went. He smirked and moved ahead. “You too will realize…”

…

The whispers woke Coronis up. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. She looked around and saw her sister still sleeping.

It was typical to hear people crying, screaming, or talking outside. But these whispers were eerily low and were coming for one side. She knew exactly what was wrong.

She stood up and walked outside. The people were surrounded by the tall wooden bar that had an arrow above it, there lay a man who was known as Denny. His wife was tied to the pole, naked, and abused. Dead.

Coronis looked at their shack… Burnt.

“Go inside,” Draco asked his older daughter.

“Two hundred and sixty-seventh,” she looked at her father. “This year. On this pole. In only five months,” she remained and counted them too.

“Try to not be the next one,” he said and took her back inside.

“What is going on?” Circe asked.

“Nothing,” Onyx said. “Stay inside.”

“They are doing this more often. They were only a day late in paying the tariff. Just yesterday, when I went to Denny's Housewife for a new knife, she said they would pay the tariff today. Poor them,” Martha sighed and placed the salad on the table with a teapot filled with brewed tea. “Have it.”

Everyone sat around the table and ate their meal. “I'm going to the east,” Onyx said. “They asked me to bring a new supply of opium.”

“When will you be back?” Draco asked.

“Soon.”

…

After an early meal, Coronis helped Onyx with packing. Later she went to her slot and took out clothes for her to wear and stepped outside to take a bath. The wooden buckets were already filled with water that they brought from the well every day.

After getting rid of her clothes, she used soap and washed herself up. All the while she felt someone staring at her. She looked around but saw nothing. But then her eyes fell on the tree in front of her. It was dense. One could easily hide inside it. There she saw a pair of eyes looking right into hers. She gasped and stumbled back. She quickly picked up the drying cloth to cover herself and ran back inside.

Her breath was huffing. She slid down the door and tried to control her breath. Her eyes fell on the fresh clothes that she took and wore quickly and waddled into the kitchenette. “Do not bathe outside,” she gritted. “There is someone up in the tree.”

Martha looked at Coronis with wide eyes. And then at Cirice who was already looking haunted. Then nodded her head. “Are you alright?”

Coronis shut her eyes tightly and let out a sigh. “No,” she whispered. “Just don't go outside.”

She was afraid. This never happened with her. There were times when she needed to attack people just to come back home with her dignity still intact but this was so much worse. She was even afraid to look outside.

But being protective over her family, she looked outside through the window to see if the man went away or not. There was no one on the tree. She looked around and checked everywhere in her sight but no one.

She turned around but stopped. Turning back she looked at the place where she had left her dirty clothes… all were gone. Even the underclothing.

“Don’t look out. Put that cloth on the window and come back,” her mother said. “Betty's mother has some vegetables left after the sale, I'll get them and come back as soon as possible. Please, look after yourself and Circe,” she opened a drawer and took out a butcher's knife. “Keep this with you,” she whispered and took the smaller knife with her.

.....

Sanaa’s note:

The chapters will get bigger I think? There are so many details I wanna include. Hope you liked this part! Lemme know your thoughts on this one. Feedback really helps me and motivates me to write more. Take care!

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes; @darkuni63 @mageprincess7

Have a nice day/night💓

[binart]

Space Ranger Partner's Adventures Chapter 1

(First) (Next)

-

A marriage proposal from a complete stranger in the middle of a top-secret alien spy base was, surprisingly, not the strangest thing to happen to Lance in the past 24 hours.

The strangest thing was probably that he was even here. He'd been proposed to a handful of times after his part in the war efforts largely ended; Adoring fans, of course. But in under a day he'd been flown from his family home in New Altea, introduced into the very secretive very select ranks of the Blades of Marmora, got his ass handed to him by some cat alien who was currently standing 10 feet away and therefore very likely his new teammate, and—possibly most surprising of all, realized he was going to have to ask his buddy keith out because apparently he'd gone off and gotten hot in the past three years.

"No, no. I told you no proposals." From beside him, the very same Keith Kogane—his ex-teammate turned leader—lurched forward and extracted Lance's hand from Torat, one of his new teammates. Though the alien stood well over a stocky 8 feet, he had dropped to one knee before asking Lance to spend the remainder of his apparently short life with him. His large hands had all but encompassed his own, but were shockingly gentle.

"Have I.. conducted myself improperly within the ritual..?" Torat questioned in a small voice, much to Keith's clear chagrin.

"You forgot a ring!" Kestin, another of Lance's new teammates—their pilot—helpfully supplied.

"Not supposed to do it in front of a crowd unless the other person says you can!" To the right of Kestin, Hedrox joined in. They'd met yesterday, and the blade seemed all too happy to join in on the fun.

"...Yh.." The lanky cat alien, En, stood stiffly next to Hedrox, slightly turned away from everyone. He'd been that way since he and Keith entered the room just moments before. "You cannot simply ask a h-hu-human being to join into such a pact! T-There are numerous prerequisites—to say nothing of the time needed to be spent with the other individual—before such a momentous proposal can be made!" They turned their head to look directly at Lance—Or so he assumed; All members save for himself and Keith wore masks covering their entire faces. Then they gave a human soldier salute. "Lieutenant, Sir!"

Lance had no idea how to respond to any of this. "Y-Yeah. Uh.. Uh. Yeah. Sorry." Man, he really hadn't been around anyone except for his family for a while. He felt rusty. He gave a weak salute in return, before a memory from the evening prior bubbled to the surface of his mind.

"I will do my utmost to familiarize myself with human naming and title customs-"

"It's fine, man."

Oh. Maybe that was related.

"Okay, guys, enough." Thankfully Keith cut in, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're not here to—propose to Lance, alright?!" He wiped a palm down his face as if to try and banish the redness creeping in. "We're here to see all the time and effort we've been putting into this project finally see some results."

The room quieted, and everyone stood tall, and tense. Hedrox, however, seemed excited.

"That we are, Commander!" There was a table with a digital surface separating Keith, himself, and Torat from the other three, and Hedrox slapped their palms down onto it. Immediately, several large rectangular screens coated in Galran projected into clear view. The room automatically darkened. "I'm very pleased to say I've been at the helm of this—which, er, Commander? Do we need an explanation for those who are new?" His voice held a pleasant watery lilt to it, and if it weren't for the horn protruding from their forehead Lance would have guessed they were a half-Galran half-merperson or something.

Keith crossed his arms and gave his throat a quiet clear. "I've only briefed him on the basics. Floor's yours."

"Excellent. Gather 'round, team. Here's what we're doing." With deft hands they tapped away at a console and began pulling up several images, as well as additional Galran text Lance struggled to quickly translate. He'd all but mastered Altean since he retired (thanks mostly to Allura teaching him, but sometimes he wondered if the marks she gave him when she thought she was going to die contributed to how effortlessly he learned), but he'd only just started learning Common Galran half a year ago. Frustratingly it was way more context based, and very, VERY heavy importance was placed on sound emphasis. There were also over three hundred individual characters to memorize, whose meaning could vastly differ depending on what other characters were next to it. He was actually pretty glad to have something else to fill his time now; A great excuse to avoid slamming his head against the language every day. He could make out.. Eta-17 pa-facilty..? Facility? Facility. He squinted. Why was that familiar?

"..For the last year, we've been surveying a Galran anti-coalition outpost at the edge of the Ornitier System, which we know is serving as a key point for filtering and channelling intel. I've been doing what I do best and systematically replacing tiny components of their communication terminals with the tech the green paladin and I co-designed.” There was something strangely human about the way he spoke, despite the mild alien accent.

“And now, we stand nearly ready for a seamless takeover.”

Hedrox held up two small devices. "These. Are my baby children. Months of hard work. Cleared—and might I add complimented—by the green paladin. When both are installed into the facility's internal security network and main processing core respectively, they're undetectable. We'll be able to spy on enemy intel with them none the wiser." The ground beneath them gave a weak lurch. Lance could feel the familiar pull of motion, even if he couldn’t confirm via a window; No one paid it any mind, so he assumed it was normal.

“So that's why we're here today. They're too complex for my little helpers to remotely install.” Tiny clicking erupted then spilled from Hedrox's hood; At least thirty floating mechanical looking creatures no bigger than sunflower seeds circled his head. “I've altered the security rounds the sentries take to facilitate an easy infiltration and installation, and as long as they haven't gone and scrambled their normal routes, this should be an easy in and out.” The blade then motioned towards Lance. “The commander had research and development outfit a sniper rifle with a scrambling code that will temporarily freeze any sentries it hits and reroute them in case there's any hiccups in the plan, or someone's about to get caught.” Among other things; the knife and pistol in their respective holsters reminded him of their weight.

“Their monitoring and sentry patrol systems ‘refresh’ once an hour—so, that’s our time limit—and we need to get in so I can upload a new set of instructions to a pre-existing program that will facilitate—That is, uh. It’s—It’s a virus? The green paladin called it a virus. Am I using the term correctly?”

Keith nodded, scratched the back of his head and turned to Lance. “Basically, we need to get in so Hedrox, En, and Torat can upload a virus that’ll make it so we can track down their headquarters eventually.”

From the other side of the table, En growled. “The malignant remnants of the accursed empire and their cowardly tactics..! Always on the run, attacking colonies before fleeing. They’re filth, and we will find them, and cut short their worthless excuses of lives..”

The room grew quiet, and stuffy. There was the whir of machinery and motion from all around. Keith cleared his throat.

“Right. So, the security network room and main processing core are in different locations, but the area where Hedrox and En need to work together will have more foot-traffic. You'll be giving them cover.”

Hedrox brought up additional panels, this time with a 3-D map of several alien-looking floors. He traced what Lance read as “entry-point” labelled in Galran all the way over to the right. “Here's where you'll be stationed with the Commander—route A. First, Kestin brings us in. The Commander and Lieutenant follow route A and get into position and provide cover fire as needed. Torat goes through route C, and En and I head to B. Easy!”

Lance smirked. “That's it? I take out sentries from afar while the hacker blades do their thing? Just like old times?” With a fond smile, Keith let out a puff of air from his nose.

“Just like old times. I’ll be there next to you since—uh, I was originally going to take your spot.”

Lance blinked at him. “Huh? I didn’t know you were good at—“

“I’m not. Just, making due with what we had. Things’ll go much more smoothly now that you’re here watching our backs, and I can focus on troubleshooting if anything comes up.” Keith’s complete faith in him left Lance light on his feet, and he hung his head and chuckled nervously.

“Cool, that doesn’t actually sound all that bad. ‘Think I can handle it.” Keith gave a surprisingly gentle nudge with his arm against Lance’s own.

“You got this, Lance.” He turned to the rest of their team. “ETA?” This time, Kestin spoke up.

“Approximately 20 minutes, sir.”

—

Pre-mission anxiety, long forgotten, made its unwelcomed return.

Lance sat pressed against the dark wall of an unsecured entry duct alongside Keith, Hedrox, and En; Though the tallest of them gave him a wide berth likely due to the events of the night prior.

Good. He might have acted the bigger person, but Lance very much did not like having his ass handed to him. He’d get a rematch from them at some point.

His stomach gave another uncomfortable lurch, and he pressed a palm to his abdomen to will the discomfort away. They had to wait for Torat’s initial sweep of the place before they could advance to their own spots; Surprisingly he seemed to be the stealthiest out of all of them despite his size.

“You alright?” Keith’s quiet voice filtered through the internal comms system in his suit. Though now masked, Keith tilted his head back to glance in his direction. He gave a weak thumbs up.

“Nerves. It’s been a while,” he quietly admitted. Three years of therapy had made it surprisingly easy to talk about his feelings, even if years ago he would have balked at the idea of showing weakness to Keith. But things were different now.

Keith reached a gloved hand over, and rested it on Lance’s forearm. Firm, but comforting, somehow. “Hey, you’ll be okay. I’m right here beside you the whole time, right?”

Things really were different now; Even his voice was doing things to him. “Y-Yeah. Yeah. Thanks—We got this.”

“In position.” Torat’s whisper of a voice interrupted the singing in his chest, and prickles of anxiety returned to gnawing deeper into his stomach. “Sentry patrol routes seem randomized.” Hedrox gave a light click of his tongue.

“..I knew they’d start doing it to all their bases eventually, but I was hoping we’d have more time before it got to the ones we compromised..” The blade brandished from his thigh pouch a strange, tiny black capsule that was barely the size of Lance’s thumb. “Guess there’s not enough leeway to sticky our fingers a bit, huh?” Lance furrowed his brows.

“Uh, what?” Keith made a dismissive gesture towards him.

“Pidge’s new tech. They’re tiny, but we use them to collect huge chunks of inorganic matter—usually servers or data storage. Not today, though. Come on, clock’s ticking.”

“Yes, Commander.” Featherlight and silent owed to their suits, the four advanced. En and Hedrox split off into the seemingly endless halls, while Lance trailed behind Keith. Weapons were a last resort, but if anything went wrong; Lance felt the pistol’s weight heavily on his right thigh, and his knife on the left. He’d dealt with sentries hundreds of times before now, and so despite how queasy he was starting to feel, the idea of potentially fighting some of them left his pulse surprisingly steady.

Keith took a sharp turn left to a dead-end, then motioned for Lance to use him to boost up to the small maintenance shaft in the corner. Right, the nest was up in there. Despite himself, Lance felt his cheeks flush and was grateful that they were hidden while he sat on Keith’s shoulders for the short time needed to remove the panel. He slid in with plenty of room to spare, and the other man soon followed.

After half a minute of near-silent upwards crawling, the shaft opened up into what would be Lance’s vantage point. There were seven large, curved window like panels punched out of the metallic dark purple walls, with a dimly shining object rested off to the side on a wall. He made his way over and picked up what was clearly a blade issued rifle, shockingly alike to the one he had practised with the day before. Adjusting to it wouldn’t be an issue, then, other than—

“This doesn’t shoot bullets, so—no kickback?” Lance turned to face Keith, who was now peering through the open panels into the massive facility below; From Lance’s precursory glance he saw walls upon walls of wires and oblong towers lit up in Galran code. The hood on Keith’s head bobbed in affirmation. From behind, he could see just how broad his shoulders had gotten..

“Got you in my sights, Hedrox.” Keith looked around. “Where’s En?” With that, Lance realized he should be doing what he was brought there to do and got into position. He raised the sights and took in the area below, scanning for the wayward blade.

“Eight o’clock, Commander.” He couldn’t hide the satisfaction in his voice, and Keith followed the point of his rifle until he spotted them emerge from a small maintenance shaft. Another pleased half-laugh.

“Good eye, Lieutenant.”

“‘S what I’m here for.”

“Uh, do you—“ Lance turned his sights toward Hedrox working to pull apart the base of one of the strange techno-towers while he spoke in a jovial watery tone. “We have a private line on our comms, Lieutenant, in case you and the Commander want to—Y’know what nevermind.“

“Focus.” Keith crossed his arms and looked away. “Torat, how’s that upload?”

”Forty percent, Commander.” His already quiet voice was a hush of a whisper. Then, “..Patrols have necessitated my heavy cloak function for five dobos—minutes and counting.”

Keith's masked view immediately shot to his wrist with a quiet hiss. Their regular cloaking built in to their exo-suits dampened sounds and turned the outer coating into something like a mirror, but the heavy cloaking function removed any and all methods of detection that the Galra were currently known to use, Keith had explained on the way there. But the power cost was enormous, and could only last fifteen minutes when drawing from the suit’s internal battery. Best used in short bursts, since completely depleting the suit’s power meant no oxygen, and no protection from the ravages of space if they had to be jettisoned out in an emergency.

“Hedrox, anything you can do to help speed it up from there?” Immediately tension shot through the air, and Lance listened with a growing sense of helplessness. “Lance, your left.”

A sentry getting too close to the others, quiznack! He held his breath, took aim, then fired. The rifle didn’t flinch, but the sentry’s head immediately bent at a strange angle, it twitched while standing upright, then turned around and began heading back in the direction it came. He got too caught up and Keith had to bail him out, he realized shamefully. He readied a quick apology on his tongue, but voices buzzed back into his mask.

“Working on it. Not great at multi-tasking though. En, gimmie a hand.” Hedrox’s normal ease had sharpened into something else. The cat-eared blade made their way to his side and took the panel passed to them before typing away nearly as quickly as their partner. “Couple yottabytes of code to implement Commander, this is gonna take some time on both ends.”

Quiznack. Another two sentries from either side. Inhale, hold. Position, fire. Position, fire. Another sentry turned the corner just as soon as the other two turned away. Exhale, inhale, position, fire.

“Torat, are the sentries letting up?”

”Forty-two percent. ..No, Commander.” Inhale, position, fire. Lance spared a quick glance at Keith, now clearly growing more tense. He returned his focus. Man, there were so many! Three more marched in a group to Hedrox and En’s flank, and there was only a narrow gap of space to get them as they approached. Exhale, inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire. The sentries turned away, and so did Keith.

“We may have to call this.” Keith's tense body language betrayed the even way he spoke. Inhale, position, fire.

Lance could hear En’s breathing pick up as they typed furiously away beside Hedrox in between shots. There was a shocking number of sentries, and Lance couldn’t help but wonder if having less bases to work within meant the anti-coalition Galrans could stuff the ones they did still have full of them. “An entire Deca-Phoeb worth of operations, wiped away..?! Commander there must be another way.”

“No. Torat, abandon the upload when your suit gets down to two minutes. I’ll extract you.”

Inhale, position, fire. Silence.

“Torat.” An authority from Keith Lance hadn’t witnessed before emerged from his suit. “Is that understood?” Harsh. No room for further discussion.

“….Yes, Commander.”

In between breath after dizzying breath, the seconds and then minutes ticked by as everyone worked in frantic silence. He watched as Hedrox and En practically glued themselves to the small walls of the gutted tower, hands flying over keys faster than even Lance’s eyes could keep up with. Distantly in his ears, Torat updated the upload percent every sixty seconds as he, too, typed away. Sweat beaded then dripped down his neck as stiffness crept up it. His rifle smeared and shifted until it looked like his old bayard, and Lance ignored it and continue to fire.

Thirteen minutes in, it was clear to everyone there wouldn’t be enough time. Keith’s steadying presence had knelt next to Lance by that point, intently watching the battery of Torat’s suit drain and pause, then continue draining via a small screen on the underside of his wrist. He stood up, and shook his head.

“I’m calling it. Torat, abandon the upload, rendezvous at the extraction point.” A muted, miserable sound. En? Inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire, exhale. No, Torat.

“We must succeed, you have worked too hard, Commander.”

“There’ll be other outposts. Now, soldier.” Again, silence. Inhale, position, fire, position, fire.

“..Failure here, for a life that may not even see il’E’s newest sun.. No, black paladin sir. For this I would gladly go without its warming rays.” Keith froze. Lance glanced at him, then back to his scope. Shit, shit, what was happening?! Inhale, position, fire, position, fire. “If ever you are able to retrieve my capsule from the vent below, have my family bury it under the spire by our sea.”

Before Lance could even register what was said, he was pulled. Keith vanished from his view and he felt a hand grip the back of his suit’s chest piece before being yanked very quickly from the room. It happened so quickly that he nearly fumbled and dropped the rifle, but managed to keep his hold. He was then hoisted up by—he realized now it was Keith—and manoeuvred until he was then sliding down the shaft he and Keith had crawled up before. “En, Hedrox, heavy cloaking, now. Keep your work out of sight. Abandon mission when I give the signal.” Steady, clipped.

“Yes, sir.” Keith was sliding behind him now even though he couldn’t hear or see him; The heavy press of his palm against his side to keep him steady nearly burned. He felt pressure lift his hand and press down on his palm—oh, right, the button to cloak himself. Then, in through his mask,

“Get your pistol ready, set it to stun, follow me.”

They shot out from the end of the maintenance crawl and Lance tore after the back of Keith’s head.

“The upload will proceed as planned. It’s been an honor, sir.”

Keith did not respond, only sprinted and twisted down the endless hallways as they dodged around sentry after sentry. Lance had strapped the rifle to his back and readied his small pistol as commanded, even though he didn’t understand. Were they going to extract Torat? He tapped the side and slid a piece into place to ensure it was set to stun. He trusted Keith, he knew what he was doing, and he could—he wanted to help in whatever way he needed him to.

The sound was different, somehow, but Keith’s voice once again came into his ears, panting with exertion. “He’ll have to uncloak for at least half a second for the capsule to recognize and capture him. When you see him, I want you to shoot him in the forehead where his eye is, Lance.”

The capsule? The one for.. inorganic matter? If organic matter like a person was compressed into it—wouldn’t that definitely kill them? Through the adrenaline, it distantly clicked what Torat was intending to do, but he couldn’t waste time thinking about it. “O-Okay.” Lance hooked his arm against a corner and pulled, narrowly missing a towering sentry as he caught up to Keith. Half a second to make a shot when he was practically wheezing though; Hesitation crawled up his spine. “How far—until we—get to him?”

“End of the hall, dead left.” Keith showed no signs of slowing, and Lance through the haze of it all wondered if he was cut out for any of this, and what would happen when he failed. If he failed. He was going to mess this up. He was going to get Keith killed somehow, wasn’t he?

Their feet silently pounding against the neon lit floor came to the end of the hallway. As they did so, Lance took in the most even breath he could muster, prayed his pulse wouldn’t throw off his aim, whipped his pistol up to the left, and aimed. Keith jammed his palm against their open com channel and flashed back into view.

“Torat, look at me—That’s an order!” The blade in question materialized suddenly in front of them, holding the same thumb-sized black capsule in front of his chest. Time slowed. In that millisecond of a moment, Lance realized he didn’t have a clear shot of Torat’s third eye. The capsule glowed a clear enough target, easy to shoot out of his hands, and his thumb was still hovering over the button on the top. Time moved another inch, and the hulking blade twitched, then could not help but turn his head towards his commanding officer.

“Forgiv—”

Lance took the shot.

—

Debrief was quiet.

No one spoke except for Keith. Lance, foolishly, felt like he was eight years old again and in trouble, for some reason. A memory of something his therapist said to him once drifted into his mind as Keith grumbled out a report. Lance couldn’t even remember the exact wording, but it was something to focus on while he ignored the ache in his entire body, and his pounding headache, at least. What was it, again..?

Hyper aware of mental states of those around him.. Discomfort around emotions regardless of where it was directed..? He couldn’t really remember. While he was reflecting, he decided to explore the room they always met in back in New Altea; Two o’clock sharp every Friday, warm room facing the sun, post-modern in decoration and very comfortable. Photos of her family on the desk, two dogs. Always enough tissues when he went there because he couldn’t cry around his family who would worry, but he could cry around a stranger who didn’t matter.

A stranger he would outlive, since she was fully human.

Torat swayed next to him, but soon righted himself.

“Understood. You have completed your mission, if nothing else.” Kolivan’s ever serious visage stared down at them from a bizarrely massive screen. Did it need to be that big? If he had nose hairs Lance would have been able to see them. “Dismissed.”

They were supposed to meet in the rec room after showering and, if needed, a trip to the med bay; A Keith mandate since his team was supposed to set an example that it was normal and good to relax after a mission, but.. was that still okay to do?

Lance probably had some of the best aim in the universe, if he was being honest, but with that aim he had just shot one of his teammates in the head not even an hour ago! The suits obviously had eye protection, but Torat dropped like a rock back in the facility, and they only managed an evac without being seen thanks to Keith’s ridiculous half-galra strength. While he dragged the unconscious Torat, Lance covered them with the rifle, and somehow En and Hedrox finished up on their end without being seen.

They did everything they set out to do, but it really felt like they failed.

The silence was broken with a soft clearing off Hedrox’s throat. “Wellll, I’m beets. Time for a shower, then uhm. Whoever feels like it meet up at the usual spot..?”

En pointedly kept his sharp gaze toward Torat, who did not look up from the ground. Sneering displeasure was evident on his now unmasked face, but he eventually turned to face his horned companion. “…The correct term is being ‘beat’ as in ‘beaten, and exhausted.’” The taller blade pressed his palm to his other set of fingers and stretched his wrists as he began to walk away. “But yes, I shall await you in the showers.” Hedrox jumped comically before slapping En’s arm.

“Don’t say it like that, shh!”

Lance blinked as he watched the two aliens saunter away, with Kestin soon to follow after giving Torat a sympathetic look. How was it Hedrox seemed like the most human out of all of them? Lance felt awkward, and guilty, and didn’t know what to do with himself.

He looked over at Keith, who ripped his furious gaze from Torat and regarded Lance with an unreadable expression. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked like he wanted to say something; He only shook his head, turned, and marched off, leaving only Lance and Torat remaining in the room. Lance peered up at the blade and saw he couldn’t entirely hide his trembling.

“..Hey man, is your eye.. Did I—hurt it?” He wanted to apologize, even though he knew he’d done the right thing. Keith must have realized the only way to keep Torat from.. killing himself was to knock him unconscious, and he needed Lance’s arm to make sure the job got done correctly. Lance wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but there was still guilt shining through. Above all else, he really didn’t like hurting people.

Torat gave a nearly imperceptible twitch, then brought his large palm over his masked eye. “Bruised, but unruptured. I will be fine, Lieutenant, thank you. Please excuse me.” Quietly, the larger blade nearly tiptoed away through the opposite door of Keith.

Lance wanted to go after him, even if he wasn’t sure what to do or say.

There’d been times back in the castle of lions where he used to catch his teammates sulking alone, or when Silvio was upset and would hide in his garden, and he always went after them to at least make sure they didn’t feel alone. He could only crack stupid jokes, and maybe he annoyed them more than he helped, but it still felt like something he needed to do.

A shower, first, Lance decided. Then, he’d track down Torat and—at least make sure he went to the med bay or something. After that, if there was time, rec room with the others.

He wanted to spend much more time scrubbing the sweat and grime off of his aching body in his shower, but tingling urgency didn’t allow a long stay. Lance popped into his most comfortable hoodie and grey sweatpants, slipped on his sneakers, then began his search.

First, he went to the obvious location, Torat’s room. No one was in, so he went to the med bay next (after signing a few autographs from some fans on the way) and once again did not find his teammate. It was at that point Lance realized that despite how the mission turned out, Torat might have just gone to the rec room. Maybe Keith was trying to foster a more tight-knit team unit thing, but before all that, and even now, Lance was pretty sure death in the Blades was a very common occurrence.

Approaching the hallway connecting to the rec room, a loud slam sent Lance a foot into the air. A sharp cough came from just around the corner before he heard a growl that undoubtedly belonged to Keith. Was he in trouble?!

“—That was the whole reason I even formed this unit in the first place!” Keith hissed, and there was another grunting cough. Lance sidled up against the wall and tried to figure out if he was needed.

“Your work is—ghh—more important than my life, Commander..!” That was Torat’s strained voice. There was some shuffling, and Lance could at least piece together that they were having an argument.

“You don’t get to call me that. My work, is showing the rest of the blades that we can do our job without throwing away our lives for the sake of—knowledge. Understand?! No matter the mission, you keep yourself alive.”

Quiet pulsing buzzing from the blue-tinted lights above hung in the air. “..I-I.. If—this is what you wish, Commander.. I shall.. try.”

A dull thud, then footsteps. “No, you’re off the team. I’m not risking keeping someone on who’s fine with killing themselves if it means the mission succeeds.”

Torat gasped. “Commander, please..! Allow me to stay—I shall make up for my transgressions, this I swear..!”

Should he leave?! Lance felt like he shouldn’t be hearing any of this.

Boots scuffing on the waxy floor. Keith turned back towards him? “Make up for it by staying alive on a different team.” His clipped footsteps faded in the opposite direction. Lance needed to leave, right now. His throat was feeling hot, and it was getting too hard to focus.

He couldn’t help Torat at this point, that was becoming obvious to him.

The muffled sounds of the rec room and even quieter alien cries faded from Lance’s fuzzy mind as he stumbled back into his room and hid under his desk.

Breathe. Deep breaths. In through the nose. Count to—how long? He couldn’t remember. Okay, okay. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. Try to breathe.

Keith flashed into his vision, an impossible view of him in the cockpit of a tiny cruiser as Lance watched him try and fly into the barrier at Naxzela. His death in exchange for the mission succeeding. They never talked about it.

Allura in the Blue lion, about to be killed; A split second decision to trade his life so Voltron could go on with its heart intact.

Keith was a hypocrite.

No! People could change their minds. It had been years since he pulled that stunt. People could change. Lance mushed his soggy face into his palms and shuddered.

Stupidly, all he could think about was how terrifying it was for Keith to be so close when he shot Torat with the stun round. With Keith’s armor, even if he had somehow accidentally missed and hit him, he couldn’t have killed him. There was no way. But his dreams were always so vivid and he was always accidentally killing Keith. To be there next to him in that situation felt—surreal.

Lance managed to get his breathing under control. It took a few minutes, but eventually he calmed, and shuffled over to the bathroom to wash his face.

He thought for a second about going and meeting up with the rest of the team, but shut that thought down almost immediately. Instead, he slipped into his pyjamas and slid into bed.

The empty ceiling greeted him without his familiar stars.

And Lance thought back to Torat, holding the small capsule in front of his chest, ready to ensure the blades could eventually track down and eliminate the remainder of the empire with his tiny sacrifice in the grand scheme of things.

And Lance realized he didn't disagree with Torat's decision.

-

😳👉👈

DID U LIKE....

[zerobasekazuha]

Hi! I was wondering if you can do amab! Venture hate fucking fem!reader who works for talon 😇

W anon for requesting this I’ll make this one extra special

As Sloan finished up their excavation at Petra, they admired the artifact they found. All that time spent in the sun as it ruthlessly beat down on them was worth it. They were covered head to toe in dirt and sweat. They took a moment to wipe off the dirt on their cheek. Sloan gathered up their things and all the while had something lingering on their mind.

Earlier that day, they had a run in with Talon. More specifically as they would put it, one of their goons. But it didn’t feel like they were just fighting against any normal talon goons. This one in particular was smarter, more swift and aggressive. Judging by the body shape alone it had to have been a girl right? It was something they pondered. They couldn’t tell however. The individual was masked.

Sloan set up camp somewhere right by the ruins they explored at. As they finally got something to eat and had a chance to sit down and breathe they could hear something from outside. It sounded like rustling. They hummed before peeking outside of what they called home for the time being.

“Must have been the wind.” Sloan said trying to convince themselves that they were alone. Nobody was there with them. Except they were incorrect. As soon as they turned around there was the same talon worker from earlier. Sloan jumped in fear. What were they doing in their home?

Sloan didn’t have time to question it before they grabbed their drill, they held it up like a threat. “You’re not getting any of these artifacts.” They said proudly, trying not to express their fear from how they managed to sneak behind them. The person didn’t say anything, rather it looked to the side observing the artifact Sloan worked all day to obtain.

“Oh no not that one!” They lunged to get it, however the figure grabbed it. Sloan could begin to feel frustrated. All day in the heat finding this little important piece of history and they could possibly loose it. The only thing on their mind was getting it back.

Fighting this figure was harder than they thought. Having to avoid breaking other things they owned as they tried to get it back was harder than they thought. At some point they kicked off the helmet that the figure wore. And it was a woman. A beautiful one at that. But they couldn’t let themselves get wrapped up into her looks when she was trying to steal from them.

Once Sloan had their hands on the artifact it seemed to shatter from what it gone through moments prior. In that instant Sloan seen red. They weren’t the same they usually were as their hard work went to waste.

They tackled the woman, Sloan holding her down as they looked down at her. When she looked back at them she had a smirk. She hadn’t said much to them until that moment. When she laughed at them. It got them more frustrated.

“This isn’t funny! You just ruined almost 100 years of history and this is funny? My hard work is all gone!” They yelled at her hoping she understood what she just did. “That little piece of crap wasn’t worth much anyway nerd. You wasted your own time.”

Sloan never thought they would hear that in their life. That some relic that they found wasn’t worth much. “You’re wrong! It’s worth so much! And it’s so-“ “I don’t care. Are you going to let me go? Hit me? I’m so scared.” She seemed to say sarcastically.

If it weren’t for her pretty face Sloan would have already been done with her. However an idea clicked into their mind. A way for them to get their revenge without actually hurting her face. They liked looking at it.

“Actually no, I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to take it.” Sloan thought those words were foreign to them. Like it didn’t come from them and they forced themselves out of their mouth.

“Like you could.” She seemed to say with a laugh. Mocking them. Sloan hated being mocked and made fun of. It pissed them off some way they’ve always kept concealed. But with that they thought that they shouldn’t use the bed to prove to her their worth. They were going to leave her right on the ground.

“Just you watch.” And just like that Sloan had this beautiful woman uttering nonsense under them. Their fingers were softly squeezing her throat. A sinister smile across their face as they watched how she reacted. Sloan was just teasing her core with their cock. Moments before using their fingers.

“What was that you said earlier?” They asked as they inserted themselves into her. It wasn’t hard at all because she was already so wet under them. But for Sloan this was almost like heaven for them. Usually since they’ve been out here they’ve had to rely on their hand. This feels much better than that.

Sloan could hear her mumble meaningless apologies as they started at a slow pace. “You know..maybe I’m not sorry..you can’t-“ Y/n was cut off as Sloans pace got faster. Hitting deeper with each stroke. It left her speechless as she least expected it.

Sloan took out all their frustration and anger from earlier all on her in that moment. They were biting her, leaving soft pink hickies in the firelight that engulfed the room. Eventually they could hear her basically begging them, crying out for them. “S-so close…” But Sloan didn’t care. This wasn’t just for her. They cared about them and their release. It sounded selfish but again they didn’t care.

They could feel her tense up under them and tighten their core around Sloans cock. They bit their lip trying to prevent any whimpers from falling as they got closer and closer to their release. The talon agent on the other hand was moaning out, most likely from overstimulation.

Sloan then grunted out, the sound they tried to keep hidden came out of them as they pulled out in time to cum on her stomach. They closed their eyes as they panted. A couple moments passed, and Y/ns priority was getting cleaned up before she had to go back to report her failure to Talon.

The two didn’t say anything to each other after. She left as swiftly as she came. And dazed Sloan almost wondered whether they could see her again. They noticed something left behind from her however. A note, they questioned why it would have been left behind.

Once they read it she said that she wouldn’t mind coming back for them. Not for the artifacts or relics but for them alone. They didn’t know if they should be scared or excited but either way Sloan smiled reading it feeling something bubbling up in their stomach as they put the note in a safe spot.

Again thanks so much for requesting this and I enjoyed writing it :D I considered other versions of writing this before I settled on this one alone.