#this is me giving you permission to not read shit you hate!

[augustinewrites]

Ooh shit I had the worlds worst thought— Megumi snapping at Fushigojo mom OF ALL PEOPLE in the heat of some kind or argument or bad day or something and blurting out “you’re not my mom” and then just AAAH IT WOULD BE SO SAD ALL FOUR OF THEM WOULD BE HEARTBROKEN AND MEGUMI WOULD BE SO UPSET WITH HIMSELF 😭😭😭🕳️🚶‍♀️

things have been difficult since tsumiki had fallen into a coma.

it's hard not to feel her absence at home. the empty seat at the dining table, the untouched laundry left folded in the hamper. somehow she's everywhere and nowhere, and it hurts.

you and satoru are heartbroken of course, but you can't begin to imagine how megumi feels.

at first he'd been quiet. megumi had always been quiet, but this was different. the two of you used to sit in comfortable silence, content to read quietly in each other's presence. now he shuffles to and from his bedroom barely uttering a word, silence hanging heavy as you try to coax him into staying.

then his grades had started slipping. you weren't awfully concerned. his teachers had been sympathetic enough to exempt him from final exams, and excuse any late or incomplete papers. despite his record of delinquency, he's always gotten high marks.

you could excuse these things. the silence, the grades. he's a little brother missing his big sister, and he's hurting.

but now he was starting to act out.

picking fights at school, talking back to faculty, giving attitude.

you startle where you stand in the kitchen when the front door suddenly slams shut, revealing a grumpy looking megumi. he kicks his shoes off, making a beeline for his room without stopping to greet you.

satoru holds a hand up before you can ask, walking over to the genkan to fix the sneakers.

"what now?" you ask, wiping your hands on your apron when your husband returns, kissing your forehead.

"suspended indefinitely for fighting," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "he has to write an apology letter to everyone involved, and the headmaster said that next is expulsion."

"he can't keep doing this," you frown. "one of us needs to talk to him."

satoru is quick to touch the tip of his nose. "not it."

you roll your eyes (like megumi would, is that where he got it?) "yeah, it's probably best that you don't. he'd bite your head off."

he leans back against the counter, relieved. "yeah, i'd just— wait. you're doing that reverse psychology stuff on me again!"

feigning cluelessness is easy. "what are you talking about?"

"when you tell me i shouldn't do something and it makes me want to prove myself!"

"not my fault you're an incredibly prideful man."

"and just this once, i'll actually admit that talking to moody teens is not one of my many skills," he says. "this is your territory. you're the only one he might listen to. you've always been his favourite."

deep down, you know that he's right. you're the first one megumi goes to for everything. the first one he comes to with a new bump or scrape. the one whose side of the bed he squeezes into when he has a nightmare. the first one he talks to when he has a fight with a friend, or his sister...

you learned pretty quickly that megumi hated when people fussed over him (it came with his lone wolf tendencies) but he always let you.

so you steel yourself with a deep breath before knocking on his bedroom door.

"megumi?" you call gently. "can i come in?"

you decide to take his muffled response as permission, twisting the knob and slowly pushing the door open.

megumi's sat on the floor with his back pressed against the bed and his knees drawn up to his chest.

you close the door behind you. "thank you for letting me in."

he hums, peeking at you over his knees.

you sit on the floor across from him, rubbing your palms against your thighs. "i know that whatever we're feeling can't compare to how bad you're hurting, but we're worried about you."

"i'm fine."

"you're not, and you can't keep acting out at school."

"okay, i'll stop," he shrugs.

you should stop here. but you know megumi. he's only saying it because he knows that's what you want to hear.

you reach out, gently grasping his hand. "megumi, please. you can't keep this all in anymore. you always talk to me—"

"i don't want to talk about it," he snaps, jerking away from your touch. "can you just leave me alone?"

you flinch a little, surprised by the slight raise in his voice. he's never yelled at you. never snapped at you like that.

you're pushing too much, you realize. he's not ready to talk yet, you have to apologize.

"megumi, i'm—"

"just— just stop!" he shouts, expression stormy. "stop fussing over me, you're not my mom!"

to his credit, megumi looks like he regrets the words immediately, lips already shooting off an apology you can't seem to hear.

it does nothing to soothe the way your chest aches, full of hurt and a touch of betrayal. those words shouldn't hurt you as much as they do. he's right, you're not his mother.

but you don't even get to utter a word before the door swings open, a pissed off looking satoru striding into the room. shit. so he had been listening. "listen here you little shit—"

you stagger to your feet, stepping between your boys. "satoru, don't. don't! he's just upset."

"he can't talk to you like that!"

"let it go," you plead. "fighting is the last thing the three of us should be doing right now, okay?"

the three of you stand there for what seems like a lifetime, letting all the pain, frustration, and heartache fill the quiet apartment.

satoru shoots one last stern look around you before drawing a deep breath and focusing on you. you do the same as his hands come up to cup your cheeks, thumb swiping a stray tear away.

"we're just gonna give you some space, megs."

_____

"he didn't mean it," you remind satoru again that night, when sleep seems to be avoiding the both of you.

"i know. he still hurt your feelings though."

"well, he was right. i'm not his mom."

your husband tuts softly, reaching across the mattress and pulling you into his chest. "so what if you didn't give birth to them? you're something better because you chose them. you chose to love them and raise them when you didn't have to."

"of course i had to. they wouldn't have lasted a week in your care."

"oh? now who's being a little shit? i see where megumi gets his attitude from."

foreheads pressed together, the two of you laugh quietly. you feel light for the first time in weeks. the man holding you close, the boy sulking in his room, and the girl laying in the hospital.

they're your family, and you know they'll always love you as much as you love them.

waking up in the middle of the night to megumi squishing between you both (and satoru actually letting him) is as good a sign as any.

[notafunkiller]

she chose me

Summary: Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!female reader

Warnings: 18+, no condom (but f is on birth control), teasing, pet names, jealousy, sergeant + sir + daddy kìnk, vibranium arm kìnk, language, degrading, praising, no mention of y/n etc.

Word Count: 6.9K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it! This was inspired by the "She chose me." TikTok trend.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re all quiet, watching the back and forth between Cap and Bucky. Not even Sam intervenes.

“You didn’t-”

“This is just not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with an expression you like to describe as bitchy. He’s so sassy without even intending to, and you wonder how bitchier he’d be if this wasn’t his best friend talking.

“Let’s see if people agree.”

He looks around waving at you and the rest of the team while Sam just snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

But you’re not amused because you have no idea how to handle this diplomatically.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve’s tone is deep and authoritative, making you feel a little uneasy.

You don’t know how to talk to Avengers sometimes. You are on friendly terms, even when you train. Sam always cracks jokes, Steve shares stories and gives advice, and Bucky is Bucky. Nat and Sam call him The Machine for a reason. But he’s a really good professor and an even better observer. He pays attention to every recruit and remembers what they need to work on. You find him extra intimidating because he’s also the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. And it’s not in the usual clean and golden boy way you are used to, anyway. He’s been through shit and it’s showing in the way he carries himself and doesn’t talk much when it’s not needed.

But you pay attention too, and this is why you think you were chosen to lead the recruits for this mission. You are on good terms with the Avengers, and Bucky probably approved the idea of working with you because you didn’t piss him off like most do. You know he hates chit chat, you learned how to read most of his stares and to not take it personally when he makes remarks about your fighting skills. They’re not your strongest asset, but you have a flair and you come up with the best solutions under pressure. You managed to pin him down once for a few seconds, and that is probably your greatest achievement.

But in moments like this, you don’t know how to say things without upsetting one side.

“You won’t get in trouble, don’t worry,” Bucky adds confidently. You’re not surprised when four out of your six colleagues agree with Bucky. They explain quickly why, emphasizing how much faster and efficient it would be if you followed that route, but their voices are still trembling. And you get it. Telling Captain America to his face you prefer his best friend’s plan over his will always be a risk. But if he gets mad, that says more about him as a leader than about anyone else.

Sam raises his hands in the air defensively, probably enjoying this as a show, but based on the looks he shares with Bucky, it seems like he agrees with him too.

You try to find your words, knowing you’re the last one from your team to speak, but before you can even open your mouth, Steve already smiles, pointing at you with his index finger. “Look at this, though! She agrees with me… She chose me.”

His grin is cold and a little arrogant. What you don’t notice, though, is the intention Steve had when he decided to use those exact words, but Bucky does. And he clenches his jaw at the same time his vibranium hand curls into a fist; a silent response to the not-so-innocent assumption that Steve made.

After a few seconds, Bucky leans in, his gaze steady and confident. “Did she?”

There is no way you would pick Steve’s plan. You are too smart and you have too much integrity to pick his side just to kiss his ass. He raises an eyebrow at you this time, a confident smirk forming on his lips. “Did you really choose him? You really think his plan would work better, doll?”

You feel surrounded by Bucky… attacked even. Your cheeks are getting hotter, too, and you know there is nothing you can do to hide your redness. Doll… He called you that when he turned you again on your back the day you managed to pin him down. It’s something about the way he says it that makes it absolutely deadly. Your first instinct was to be offended, but you reminded yourself he is a man born in 1917. He lived his twenties in the 40s, and doll was used as slang for sweetheart.

Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head slightly, directing your response to Steve. “It’s not about choosing sides, but considering all perspectives for the best outcome. And your plan, Captain, has its strengths, but I’m inclined to agree with Sergeant Bucky.” You bite your lip. “It’s about finding the most effective strategy for the mission, not a personal preference of any kind.”

Steve’s smile falls off, but your attention shifts back to Bucky’s grin that lightens up his face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, then,” Steve sighs. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you until he says your name.

Surprised, you jump. “Yes, of course.”

*

Steve leans back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as you write down the last details. “You know, I value your insights on the mission.”

You look surprised because how can he value your opinion when this is your second mission only? He’s Captain America!

“Oh?”

“I trust your judgment, and your training is going great. If you and the team chose Bucky’s plan, then we do it.” You see his jaw clench, though, so you know it’s not easy for him to say it. Even if it’s his friend… interesting. “Maybe, when all is over, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk about other things. What do you think?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds, trying to realize if he means it in the way you think he is. There is no way, right?

Just in case, you offer him a friendly smile, “Thanks, Cap! I value our teamwork too. Coffee sounds great after. It could be a good way for all of us to unwind as a team.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m glad you’re on board. I’m looking forward to that coffee, even if it’s with the whole team. And please, call me Steve.”

So he was flirting…

“Thank you,” you pause as you stand up. “I’m gonna talk with Sergeant Barnes so we can get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good night, Steve!”

*

You knock only three times before the door opens and a Bucky dressed in shorts and a white tank top lets you in with a smirk.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod as you take a step inside his bedroom. He only stays here before and after missions when he is too tired to go to his apartment, so you don’t expect to see any personal objects there except for a few clothes.

“What happened to Bucky?”

You look at him surprised, tightening your hold on the tablet you are holding.

What?

“Sir?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a second. “Earlier, during the meeting, you called me Sergeant Bucky.”

Shit!

Maybe you should start calling him Sergeant Barnes in your head as well to avoid these fucks up. You feel so embarrassed that you want to disappear. You don’t want him to think you disrespect him in any way. His rank carries a lot of weight and trauma.

You clear your throat, slightly flustered. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. It won’t happen again, sir.” You offer him an apologetic smile while trying very hard to maintain a professional tone.

Bucky’s smirk softens as he places his flesh hand on your shoulder. You feel your legs transforming into jelly.

“My point was, doll, there is no need to be so formal. We’re off-duty here, and titles aren’t necessary. Just call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” you smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I came to discuss the plan for tomorrow. I talked to Steve and we agreed it would be wise for you to lead the way as Mr. Wilson-”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts before you can finish your sentence. He doesn’t even bother to look at your tablet, either.

“Yes, we talked in the office.”

“No, I get that. But you call him Steve? What happened to Cap?” Bucky knows that might sound really childish, but he can’t help it. What is Steve trying to do?

Was it some kind of test? Did you misunderstand everything with Steve?

“Oh, Cap allowed me to call him Steve earlier. I am sorry if it sounded disrespectful.”

He squeezes your shoulder even before moving his hand to your chin, raising your face, and you feel yourself blushing again.

The blue of his eyes is so intense that you can’t see how anyone would be able to survive it.

“You apologize too much, doll. I don’t like it.”

You can’t breathe. “Sor-” You pause, realizing he is right. Apologizing is second nature to you. It feels wrong when you don’t, and you do it without even thinking about it. “I guess I do that a lot. I’ll work on it, Bucky.”

“I’m not your teacher right now, doll.” He smiles, letting go of your chin. “Just remember, we’re not all about formalities here. Relax a bit.”

Easier said than done. But you need to keep it together and ignore the urge to grab his face and finally kiss him. So you focus on talking about the mission and the members of the team. You talk about all of your colleagues, and Bucky helps you take notes. He switched so easily from friendly to the sergeant mode, which is fascinating.

He explains step by step your positions, the way things are gonna happen and even two back up plans. Two!

You’re not overwhelmed by the amount of information, but you’re quite surprised by how much he talks and how well he answers every possible question any of you could have. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak for more than a few seconds continuously so you try to focus on every word.

Only when he finishes and you close your tablet after sending everyone the plan, do you see him relaxing again.

With a smirk, he asks you, “How did Steve take it?”

“He was fine with the plan, even suggested if we feel like doing it, to get one or two more members. But based on what you said, we won’t need it.”

“He has a point, of course, but if you said you don’t think you need it, good.” You try not to stare at his lips as he speaks, but it’s so hard. “And I meant how he took that you chose my plan. That you chose me.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to keep your composure, “Steve seemed more than okay with it from what I saw. He values the team’s decision. Plus, it’s not about choosing sides, and-”

“And not a personal preference of any kind,” he interrupts just to quote you, and you don’t know if you should feel flattered he remembers word by word or to prepare yourself for a negative reaction. To be honest, your head is spinning and him being so close makes it worse. “I heard you very well, but I’m curious…”

He extends his hand and carefully tucks your hair behind your ears. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat going crazy. And if you do, so does he.

“About what?”

“Would the answer be different if it was about personal preferences, doll? Would you choose him?”

You freeze. You are simply in shock because this cannot happen to you. From Steve asking you out earlier to your crush basically doing this. You’re confused and a little tired, but you didn’t imagine all of this. Does Bucky want you? Is that it?

You take a deep breath praying you won’t choke on the words. “In a hypothetical scenario based on personal preferences, Bucky, I would still not pick him.”

Your voice is trembling, but you maintain eye contact even after admitting it. You didn’t choose Bucky’s plan because of your crush, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or exposed. He’s the one who let you call him Bucky, who touched you and asked you that. You don’t know if he counts romance as a personal preference, but there is an urge inside you to find out. You wonder how he’d taste, if he’d kiss you back if you kissed him first, how your mission would be if you crossed the line. Your thoughts are foggy.

“So you’d choose me.”

You clear your throat. “Yes.”

“Over Captain America.” His grin is so boyish and cute that it makes you smile. He looks younger and less… burdened when he gets like this. Bucky chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, well, well. Looks like I got someone not kissing Captain America’s ass for a change. That’s really rare. You’re a naughty one, aren’t you?”

You mask your gasp with a cough, deciding to play along, a sly grin forming on your face. “Maybe I just have a thing for underdogs.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement to your annoyance but also excitement, and he leans in, taking the tablet from your hand and placing it on the floor without a care. “Underdogs, huh? Ouch, that hurt a little. I thought I was your favorite super-soldier.”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling enough encouragement from his reaction to touch his vibranium arm just to feel it. You got the chance to do it only for a couple of seconds and it always fascinated you, especially the golden pattern. The fact he can feel everything because it’s connected to his nerves is insane to you. It probably is to him too. “Oh, you are. And my favorite teacher too. But a little competition never hurts, Sergeant Barnes.”

You can see he feigns offense. “Competition, huh?” Bucky’s playfulness turns into a serious tone as he adds, “Well, let me show you why I’m the only choice.”

And without warning, he closes the distance between you and kisses you.

You gasp, taken aback, but you bring your hands to his face and hip before you deepen the kiss. He’s not as gentle as you expected, his left arm flying to your ass and bringing your hips closer to his immediately.

You moan when you feel his hard on so close to your pussy, and tug on his hair a little.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” He lowers his lips to your jaw. “I could basically smell how wet you got earlier as soon as I called you doll. And so did Steve.”

You want to open your eyes and tell him to stop talking about his friend. You don’t want to be turned off, but he already continues.

“He thought he stood a chance with my girl.”

“Your girl?” You whimper when his teeth graze your neck before his tongue licks on the spot. He intends to leave a mark, you have no doubt, and you absolutely love it.

“Mine.” His whisper makes you shiver. “I want to mark you. The thought of having you covered in hickeys during the mission makes me so hard it almost hurts. Gonna show everyone you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you, Sergeant Barnes?” You take a step back but let your hand linger on his chest teasingly. “Because I don’t remember you asking me to dinner.”

Bucky grins. “Dinner is a classic move, and I adapted very well to the present. But of course I can stop with the kisses right now, and we can have some late dinner.”

You roll your eyes at his unbelievably good answer. Fucker!

“This is not what I meant, Barnes, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. But I want to know something else.”

You don’t even doubt he means something dirty because it’s too obvious.

“Like what?”

“Like how your pretty pussy tastes while you come all over my face.”

You gasp at the no-filter words. You’re so used to Steve’s warning you to use proper language, that you did not expect it.

“I thought men your age were all about being proper and refined… Don’t they teach subtlety in the 40s etiquette class or did you skip it?”

You tease him on purpose, and he knows it. You are well aware what a nerd he was in school. Such a nerd that it was displayed in the museum. You snort. You were a nerd too, so you love it.

Bucky chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he brings his hands to your pants, unzipping them without warning. Holy. Shit. The way you love this. He reads your body language very well and he has his super soldier senses.

“Well, doll, proper and refined went out the window with the 40s, right? Because otherwise you’d not be standing here letting me undress you.”

You raise your eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. His energy is so light, and he looks like a man without a worry in moments like this.

“You’re the one who offered to show me what the little upgraded version of you can do, after all.” You take off your shoes before pulling down your pants as soon as he drags them to your ankles. You can’t believe you’re about to fuck James Bucky Barnes! “Why would I say no?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, doll. Gonna make sure you have the time of your life.”

You snort, amused by his eagerness, and decide to take off your shirt yourself to see his reaction. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He grins like a child, his hands flying straight to your back without taking his eyes off your chest. And before you know it, your bra is on the floor and Bucky cups your breasts, bringing your left tit to his mouth.

If you gasped when you felt the cold touch of the vibranium, now you moan loudly, enjoying the way he licks around your skin. He avoids your nipple on purpose, so you decide to take matters into your own hands quite literally and get a grab of the top of his hair, forcing him to suck on your nipple.

“Fuck! I didn’t expect you to be so whorish,” you say without realizing, and you feel his snort and breath on the wet patch he left with his tongue.

Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “This is what you call whorish? I guess I’ll give you an experience you won’t ever forget.”

“Talk less, do more.”

You want to enjoy more of this. You have a mission in a few hours, and it might be just a one time thing anyway since he is Bucky Barnes. You don’t want to get your hopes high.

Bucky lets go of your breast with a pop and moves up, raising your head so he can kiss you.

It’s electrifying, and desperate, and not enough. You move your hands to the bottom hem of his tank top and lift it, interrupting the kiss so you can take it off completely. You just want to feel him, all of him.

You step back for a second, wanting to look at him properly, but you notice a change in his eyes that he, of course, tries to mask.

“Why are you nervous? You look like a fucking god! I should be nervous here.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with vulnerability.

“I guess I’m not used to someone seeing my scars or my,” he waves toward his vibranium arm, and you frown.

“I will sound totally weird, but they all make you really cool, Serge.” You trace down a few scars when you see he is completely relaxed and continue. “Do I have to lick them all to make you believe me?”

You move your hands under his shorts before he can answer, though, finally touching his cock. You both moan at the feeling. He’s hard and thick, and the head is wet. You bring your fingers to his lips, smearing some of the precome before leaning in to suck it off.

You’re not prepared for his moan or for the way he attacks your mouth, and definitely not for him to snap your underwear using his flesh hand. Not even his vibranium one!

You moan into his mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating and you need to fuck him right then.

“You’re not just whorish, you’re a whore!” You pause when you feel his fingers close to your entrance. “No wonder why you didn’t belong in the 40s.” Then you move, allowing him to touch you. You don’t realize what you said, and when you do, in the middle of dragging his shorts down, you curse yourself in your mind. It sounds like the most disrespectful thing ever. This man’s fate was changed by monsters who cryogenically freezing him and brainwashing him, and you are selfishly talking as if he belonged to you. “I’m sorry that was awful of-” But he interrupts you before you can get a chance to properly apologize.

“You like that, don’t you?”

A wave of shame surges through your body. Your cheeks are burning.

“I’m really sorry,” you take your hands off his shorts and look away, not even peaking at his cock. You ruined it, didn’t you? “I will just go.”

Bucky shakes his head, puffing. “For such an amazing agent, you’re not a good room reader, are you?”

Your eyes finally drop to his cock, which you���ve been trying to avoid in the last minute out of shame, but there’s no need anymore since he’s teasing you. He’s just a bit longer than average, and he’s really thick, and the veins do not make it ugly at all. You are curious how it’d feel in your hand, how much it’d twitch, how Bucky would moan.

“You aren’t a good room reader, either then, Barnes, since I’m not getting dicked down and my hair pulled, am I?”

Something snaps in him, and it’s visible in his eyes. You don’t know what to expect so you just watch him. But you can’t. He is so quick that, despite your crazy training, you don’t anticipate his move. His hand wraps around the hair from your nape and fists it hard enough for you to move along with him.

“Wanna be dicked down? Fine by me, get on your hands and knees.”

You’re surprised, of course you are, but his tone is firm and you find yourself nodding and doing what he told you. You know you can say no; there is nothing in Bucky’s energy that makes you feel unsafe or as if you have no choice.

At the same time, he lets go of your hair just so he can take off his shorts completely.

“Are you not gonna make sure I’m wet enough for you?” You ask when you see him getting closer to you again, even though you are very wet. You just want to push his buttons.

“I can smell you if I focus on it, let me remind you.” He smiles. “I know you’re soaked, and you wanna be dicked down. Or are you backing off?”

Challenging prick!

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of your dick.”

“Good, because he wants to be friends with you.”

You close your eyes, cringing. “God, you were this close to turning me off.” You raise your hand in the air, putting your weight on the left one as you bring your thumb and index finger close to each other to show him exactly what a thin line this was.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget it in a second.”

Your first instinct is to want to tease him about the second remark, to ask him if this is how long he can last, but you’re too horny now. And you also need rest for the mission tomorrow.

“How, uh…” You pause not knowing how to ask this properly. “Can you, uh, make babies?” You cringe at your words. “I mean, widows can’t… and I just wanted to know if we need a condom to be extra careful since you might be extra fertile because I am on the pill and I have no idea how sex with a super sold-”

Bucky’s lips press against yours suddenly, making you stop talking.

“Breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” you whisper and he cups your face.

“Not enough. We can use a condom if you want, but I’ll need to check where I can find one. Or we can go bare if you trust me… I can pull out and you are already protected, so there shouldn’t be a problem, I think.” He pauses to kiss your lips again. “But we can still use a condom anyway to be extra careful as you said.”

You frown at that, suddenly more desperate to feel him bare than ever before.

“No, I trust you. I have never done it without a condom before, and I assume you didn’t have much time to uh… have sex.”

Bucky snorts amused. “Now why do you assume that?”

“You look like you haven’t been fucked since 1945.”

The fact he doesn’t even deny it makes you feel even bolder, so you reach for his cock and place your thumb on his wet head while wrapping the rest of your hand around the length. “Are you gonna even last for a second once you’re inside me, Sergeant Barnes?” You snort when you see him trying to hold back his moan by biting his lip. It makes you feel happy. “Or do you even manage to get inside me before- ahh!” He is predictable this time as he pulls your hair, so you laugh.

“Are you familiar with this whole red, yellow, green color code?”

You gasp. “Yes, read about it, never needed it. But how do you know that?”

“I read about it, too.” His grin is so wide and beautiful that you melt again.

“Quite naughty of you, Serge. Reading dirty books. Needed some ideas?”

Bucky smirks, kissing you again and again. “Gonna need a review after I finish with you.”

“You finishing with me?” You smile. “Big words, Barnes, but no action.”

He knows you challenge him, and you don’t try to hide it. Do you have to beg for his cock for him to finally fuck you? He is edging you on purpose at this point.

You let out a whimper in anticipation when he moves behind you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with no condom?”

“Ihm, I’m not ovulating anyway,” you whisper, trying not to sound too eager. But you are. You want to get dicked down, indeed. And you wanted it for months.

His silence makes you a bit nervous, but the sounds of him dropping to his knees behind you, followed by his hand grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance while squeezing your hip with the metal arm.

You love the sensation of the coldness, but you love even more when he leans in to kiss your back before he pushes inside you.

It takes two tries, though, for him to be able to push halfway inside you because you kept pushing his dick out of you instantly. You managed to take him only when he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed a bit.

You still laughed though because the sounds were too funny and his little frustrated whimpers were hilarious. The amusement turns quickly into more horniness when you feel him stretching you without even being fully inside you. You dreamed and daydreamed about it… fantasized about it, but it still wasn’t even close to how it actually feels. How full it feels. It’s like you cannot even think, your body is weak.

“Fuck,” your voice is cracking. “Deeper.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers.

“So?” You bring your hand to his ass, trying to show him you really need it deeper. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing? Or are you trying not to come, Mr. Super Soldier?”

“You have quite a mouth on you, I think you need it-”

“You talk way too much. Are you nervous or-” It’s his turn to interrupt you with a thrust. Such a deep thrust your head is spinning. He’s not fully inside you, you realize, but he doesn’t try to, instead, he starts to fuck you, taking your breath away. His fingers leave your clit, grabbing your hips with both hands.

There is no question anymore, just fucking as you wanted.

And it feels like heaven. You try to keep your eyes open just so you look at him over your shoulder, but it’s impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You groan. “No, you did, n-now fuck me harder.”

“Well, well,” he slows down and you almost wanna die. “This is not how you talk to your Sergeant, is it?”

He can’t do this!

“Fuck you!”

“What does my baby want?” His thrusts are too slow and teasing, just like his voice. “Use your words, beg for it.”

You’re not turned off, surprisingly. Not at all, on the contrary, the firm tone he uses, the words… you’re getting hornier, if that is even possible.

“I love your cock, Sergeant, so please give it to me. Fuck me harder and faster. Need you to pull my hair, and choke me, and… be rough.” You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. You know he wouldn’t make fun of you for this, so you trust him.

“Only mine.” You take a deep breath relieved when you feel his right hand wrap around your hair. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

You nod, unable to say anything because he starts to thrust hard and fast, just like he did before he stopped. Your tits are jumping at the impact, and you have to dig your toes into the floor.

“Use your words. If you want my,” he moans. “If you want my cock and my hand wrapped around your neck, you have to use your big girl words. Tell me you’re only mine.”

You can’t hold back your tears this time. You love it so much, you can’t believe you waited so long to have him.

“Only yours.”

“No Steve.”

He lets go of your hair, wrapping his hand around your neck. No pressure, not moving it, he’s just holding it there.

“There’s n-no Steve, Sergeant. Only you. My pussy belongs to you. I o-only want to get filled by you.”

You know he’s smiling without needing to look at him.

“You love your Sergeant’s cock, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to speak while thrusting so hard. He’s a fucking robot, indeed. “No one else could give you this, no matter how much they tried.”

You feel the building in your core. You’re so, so close already, so you try to place your weight on only one hand and bring the other to cover his, and before he can say something, you encourage him to choke you by pressing his fingers on the sides of your neck.

You moan so loudly you surprise even yourself. You sound like a cat.

“Please, sergeant, please, choke me.” You repeat your move and you close your eyes. “Please, daddy, I’m so c-close.”

He pauses for a second, and you don’t know why.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t just start to thrust inside you again, he dicks you down just the way you wanted. It’s as if he fucks the air out of your lungs every time you exhale. You’re crying and screaming at this point, so loud the whole floor must hear you. But you’re not ashamed. You feel so close you can almost taste it.

You barely hear his whimpers, but they’re there and they’re so beautiful.

You get no warning when he decides to squeeze the sides of your neck: gently at first, but then? Perfect. So perfect you come without warning, not being able to even say his name. You just scream some nonsense, your hand dropping from his to the floor so you can ground yourself properly. Your whole body is burning, and burning, and burning, coming alive for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t wait even for a second after you come down from your orgasm. Instead, he gets his dick out of you, grabbing you by your ass and raising you in his arms. Still weak, you barely have the strength to wrap your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. He’s sweaty but not that hot. His metal arm is making you cool down.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His lips find your forehead and you fight the urge to kiss his neck. You feel so small in his arms… and as if no one can hurt you.

You’re smiling like a fool when your back hits his bed, and so is he. Such a beautiful, blinding smile.

You let him spread your legs before you drag his face down so you can kiss him. You bite his lip hard until he opens his mouth, moaning when you feel him entering you again. This time, you’re relaxed so he thrusts inside you so much easier.

“Gonna make you come again around your daddy’s cock..”

His hands wrap your legs around his ass when he starts to thrust again.

“You’re quite… into it, Sergeant Barnes. So dirty!”

He gently grabs your jaw. “Tongue out.”

You do it, opening your mouth and waiting, and waiting until you finally understand what he’s about to do.

Instead of being grossed out, as you expected, you eagerly swallow the saliva that he lets drip from his mouth, which lands on your tongue.

You bat your eyes as you start to move your hips to meet his thrusts halfway, and that sends him into a frenzy.

“Fucking hell, you don’t want to sleep tonight, do you?” He asks sarcastically, but you don’t have enough air to tease him with a stamina comment. “You want me to make you scream and swallow my spit and come till we have to go to that fucking mission. Till your beloved Steve needs to come to us himself and hear us covered in come but still fucking.” You moan at the idea of your teammates finding out about this. You get awful comments anyway; at least you can get him for real and rub it in their faces. “You would like that, wouldn’t ya? Having all my undivided attention on you, not caring that my best friend is mad…” The thrusts are so deep that your head falls on the pillow instantly. You cannot keep your eyes open for even a second and you’re crying again. “Not caring my pal wanted you so badly he even tried to take you out tonight.”

“Sergeant-”

Thrust after thrust. You grab his forearm as tightly as you can so you can have something to hold onto.

“He thought he could have you, that you’d choose him. Come on, love. Come on, scream my name, let them hear. Let them all hear whose cock you cry for. Who is the one you belong to.” His balls slap against your skin so hard they tickle you. But not even that can distract you from almost reaching your orgasm. His words, his cock, his possessiveness…

“Sergeant, please. No one but you, can I… c-can I touch my clit? I’m so, so close.”

You don’t have to, though, because he is quick enough to bring his flesh hand between your bodies and rub your clit just the way you need it.

“F-fuck, coming,” you manage to warn him before the pleasure hits you. It’s so overwhelming you see white, digging your nails into his forearm.

You don’t know what you call him… daddy, Bucky or sergeant, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his praise, how you’re his good girl, and his words encouraging you to come for him.

When you can focus again, you kiss him with everything you have.

“Need you to come for me, Sergeant Barnes,” you whisper between kisses. “Need you to come inside me, need you to fill me up with your come, sir.”

He hisses loudly, his eyes being more grey than blue.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I mean it,” you make eye contact, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Not the heat of the moment. I need your come, daddy. I’m on birth-”

He kisses you so hard your teeth end up hitting, but you don’t care. This is everything.

“Gonna come, gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you my come s-slut. Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so excited to watch him finish you don’t even realize how much you like being called his come slut until he says it again. “Come on, Sergeant, come for me.”

After you say that, it only takes him two more thrusts to finish, moaning your name.

His eyes close, and you notice how pretty his eyelashes are. And the little moles on his face… his mouth semi-open and his hair in all directions.

You want to witness this every day.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to kiss his nose and cheeks, letting your hips move at the same time.

“C-can’t… doesn’t stop,” he manages to groan, and you bring your hand to his nape, caressing his hair as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally finishes, though, his head falls on top of your breasts, his mouth finding your nipple and playing with it before sucking it fully into his mouth.

“Easy, Bucky,” you moan, but he keeps going, though.

You have to pull his hair, to make him stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I need to uh… I’m tired.”

You’re back to your shy self. But his smile still makes you feel so relaxed.

“Got you tired, huh?” He winks, giving your breasts a kiss before pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck, I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life. Won’t even mention how happy I am.”

“Me neither,” you whisper.

“Well, we need to get used to it.”

You laugh so happily that you think your chest will explode. It’s surreal.

“You owe me that dinner after all.”

“A million dinners.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Trying to charm me?”

He pecks you one more time before getting out of you with a whimper.

“I’ve already done it.”

It’s weird to be empty like this again, but seeing your come and wetness on his pubic hair or dripping out of your pussy just to soak the sheets beneath you distracts you. You made a mess.

“We need to clean this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he uses his index finger to push some come back inside you. Jesus! “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile. “You’re a whore.”

“Your whore.” He slowly gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor.

“Want me to go?” You ask all of a sudden, gaining a confused look from him.

“Why would I want that? Unless you do, of course…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it a little. “But I want you to stay.”

“Saw you dressing.” You bring your knees up just to put your chin on top of them. You feel extra shy.

He smiles. “Just gonna get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrated.”

*

Bucky knew Steve was in the kitchen as soon as he went down the stairs. He smiles casually, not giving him a second look as he goes straight to the fridge. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in shorts or shirtless before, and Bucky knows he knew exactly what happened upstairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s tone is so obvious Bucky almost laughs.

“Not sleepy yet. What about you? You’re alright, punk?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass of water; his hands tightly wrapped around the glass.

“Still mad about earlier? You know I’m right.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s all good.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. He loves Steve, he is his brother, but sometimes he is so annoying.

“Well, try to get some sleep. I suggest you wear some earplugs or something, though,” Bucky suggests casually, taking a whole bottle of water. “We wouldn’t want you too sleepy tomorrow. And the night is young.” He even winks at Steve, making him clear his throat.

“Buck…”

“Not a super soldier perk, I know, but you understand, right?” The smirk he suddenly gives Steve is almost sinister. “She chose me after all, and I gotta let her test-drive me. Have a good night!”

Even though he turns around, Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s hold gets so tight that his glass almost breaks.

Bucky doesn’t regret it. He had it coming when he thought you’d choose him.

[heartfullofleeches]

Masochist Bully Yan and Creepy, low-key pervy Reader who can't decide if they want to kiss and fuck or gut and kill him-

Erin Hart is the fucking worse. Can't have a thought to yourself when he's around, and with rumors of him liking you your life has crumbled from nightmare to pure hell. That bastard having a crush you of all people? - as if. Fucker probably doesn't even have a heart to begin with. You should just rip that wasted clump of tissue out his chest. It'd find better use in a blender. God, you hate him. You just want to ambush him in the locker room after one of his practices. Smash his head into the same locker he keeps full of all the shit he's stolen from you and kiss his pathetic ass once he's down to finally know the taste of his lips - silencing the curiosity that's been bugging you for weeks.

...wait-

Creepy Loser Reader who's loathed by nearly everyone and hates them all just the same - most notably the obsessive bully who refuses to even give them air to breath. Not only is he an asshole, but he's a pretty one too - the worst kind. When he's berating them for talking to a classmate without his permission it's a mental battle not to shove their tongue down his throat or pull out his teeth. He'd be dead sooner if his ass didn't look so good in shorts.

Like many troubled people, Creep Reader took to writing out their frustrations online. They used to keep notebooks, but Erin stole the majority and forced them to read one of their fantasies aloud. They tried to write at home, but the slippery bastard managed to steal those too. They write entire essays about how much they hate Erin and what they'd do to him if left alone with him for one hour. They never bothered to private their accounts since it's all just the ramblings of some nobody that no one will ever find.

"Erin's such a whore. It's the third day in a row he's had his hair up. Probably moans like the slut he is if you pull it. I wanna wrap my hands in his ponytail and rip out his throat with my teeth. I hate when he shows skin. It makes me want to leave him covered in bruises. Whore. Slut. Why won't you get out of my fucking head."

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. How the fuck did he get your phone - how does he know the password? You're dead. So fucking dead. He's going to kill you and dump your body in some lake and no one will care because-

"Do it."

"do....what?"

Erin huffs. Hard to too much with every little move adding friction to the erection straining his jeans. He removes the hair tie from his wrist, sweeping his hair back and pulling it through - glare keeping you pinned to the floor. Your eyes fall down to his neck, dark ring of bruises encircling his throat. It's surely just a coincidence, but you lost a belt not too long ago almost the exact width of the mark.

"Want to hurt me so bad? Fucking do it. Been waiting for you to snap and punch my lights out, but you have more restraint than I thought. It's cute. You're cute, but you didn't hear that from me. Hit me, Bitch. Make it count cause you're never getting rid of me."

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts.  Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts.  Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying.  ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair.  You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze.  Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other. 

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy.  Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway.  It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught. 

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers.  "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously.  Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night.  Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy.  Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug. 

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures. 

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— happy home day + eijirou kirishima.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — exactly one a year after adopting from the pound, kirishima plans a special surprise for you, his special little puppy hybrid, on their birthday.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, smut, fluff, hybrids, lingerie, collars, creampies, dumbification, possessiveness, pet-names, body-worship, orgasm-denial, dom-sub, unprotected sex, praise!kink, daddy!kink, breeding!kink, afab!reader, puppy hybrid!reader, pro hero + owner!kirishima.

⭑ words — 4.3K.

⭑ notes — hi !!! i wanted to post something so had you guys vote on what you wanted to see next. the winner ended up being kirishima <3! this was a birthday fic commissioned by my baby @eijirhoe ( who has given me permission to post ) and was beta read by the lovely @vagabondings!! i hope you enjoy !! kiss kiss - m.list ✩

“for fucks sake, kirishima, that is not a fuckin’ guard dog.” 

only katsuki bakugou could be this miserable in an adoption centre for adorable hybrids— kittens, bunnies, mice and puppies alike. the redhead gives the employee standing nearby an apologetic mix between a smile and a grimace, the poor thing shaking in their boots at the proximity of the dynamight.

“katsuki, don’t yell. you’ll scare the ‘lil thing,” he pouts, sticking his fingers through the wire bars on the cage— coaxing the little hybrid inside closer. “and i thought you said german shepherds made great guards!” kirishima wiggles his digits again, pursing his lips to make those kissy sounds that are usually used to call to cats and crouches down to the height of the enclosure. 

bakugou smacks him upside the head but takes a stance beside his rioting hero friend before signing dejectedly. “wrong sound idiot, you’re meant to whistle,” the two strong, and surely intimidating men spare a glance at the cowering hybrid as katsuki whistles in an attempt to gain some trust. “and they usually do, but this one looks like they might shit themselves if someone looks at them funny. not a guard dog.”  

“but bakugou—“ 

“i hate to interrupt, mister riot. mister dynamight.” the employee from earlier steps in, steeling her nerves as she gestures to the cage the puppy hybrid is in. “but if this one doesn’t get adopted soon, i’m afraid they’re going to be put down. we don’t have the space for slightly quieter and apprehensive hybrids like them, no one really wants them if they’re not overly friendly or energetic and…if they do it’s usually for the like…” 

“hybrid farms,” bakugou finishes for the kid, his voice thick with disgust. “just shut one of those down the other day. awful fuckin’ places.” 

kirishima pouts again, peering into your cage— noting the gloss in your big pretty eyes and how you shrink in on yourself, tail pinned to the ground without the happy swish to it that other puppy hybrids in the centre have. “so…” he can’t imagine what you’ve been through, what you’ve seen to have ended up here. “if they don’t get adopted today, they’ll be put down? isn’t there any other way? that hardly seems fair.”

“to us it’s a little more humane than ending up at a hybrid farm or those indecent love hotels exclusively for sex with hybrids…” the employee trails off again, nervously fidgeting with their fingers. in the distance, a bell chimes with the notification of more customers— a mother and her child, probably looking to adopt one of the younger, nosier hybrids for their family. “if you’ll excuse me…” 

“i’ll take ‘em!” red riot blurts without even thinking, the employee not having taken two steps away from him and his angry blonde friend who looks at him like he’s gone bat-shit crazy. “this is their only chance, right? i have to do something, they don’t deserve to go out like this.” the blonde closes his mouth, holding his protests thoughtfully. 

he’s right. kirishima is right, his kind soul always is. “ai’ght, fine. but don’t expect me to train that thing, they ain’t nowhere near close t’bein’ a guard dog.” bakugou grunts, folding his arms across his broad chest with a faux look of dismay— not admitting how impressed he is with eijirou. 

eijirou kirishima has a heart of gold, he’s always been like that— putting others before himself because he believes in them. he takes in strays, builds up their strength and their confidence, letting them know that he’ll always be the sturdy figure they can fall back on in times of need. katsuki was one of those strays, an unwanted dog just like you. he’d bared his fangs to the sweet redhead in fear of letting in someone that would hurt him, but as it turns out, becoming friends with someone as selfless as kirishima was just what katsuki needed.

the employee sighs, shoulders sagging with relief as they glance between the two pro heroes. “should i be getting the adoption papers then?”

with an enthusiastic nod, red riot peers back at you with affectionate eyes and a smile you can trust— one that only widens when you bump your head against his fingers over the bars of your pen and let the tips of them just brush your lush puppy dog ears. “yes please,” he says warmly, his gaze never leaving you. “don’t you worry about a thing little one, it’s you and me now, got it?” 

and for the first time in forever, your tail wags happily, and you don’t feel worried at all.

being adopted by eijirou kirishima most probably saved your life. 

he’d been eager to get you out of that shelter, with the promise of a better life written against his lips and lost under his tongue as he babbled about your new home and how excited he was to have a puppy hybrid of his own. a timid, sweet faced and jumpy german-shepherd hybrid nothing like their breed— with big eyes, a set of pointed and twitchy puppy dog ears and a tail that stays pinned to the ground with nervousness. there’s a lot for him to undo, a lot of trust to build up.

kirishima was patient when introducing you to his home that only big time pro hero money could buy— he let you sniff out the place, scenting areas that made you feel safe even having his comforting, large presence right beside you was enough to make your ears perk up and heightened senses go wild. he let you pick out the biggest spare room in the house and had even felt sad for you when you stated that you’d never had your own before. 

“with me, i’ll make sure you have everything you want ‘n more, kay pup? things will never go back to the way they were for you.” the red head swore to you, crossing his heart — that was the first time you’d ever felt love like that. 

the two of you quickly fall into an easy routine; kirishima would leave for work in the mornings after making sure he’d set out the perfect meal a growing pup, like you, would need— using all sorts of kibble that his explosive friend katsuki had recommended. occasionally he’d spoil you with pieces of turkey bacon that he knew you weren’t allowed to have, but what was the harm in spoiling someone who hadn’t experienced luxury before? plus he liked the way your German shepherd tail would wag and your pupils would dilate at the sight of the meaty meal. 

eijirou made sure you had all the toys possible to play with while he was away for work— you didn’t like sitters and nearly chewed out the last one katsuki had recommended for a nervous puppy such as yourself. you didn’t like her scent and how it had gotten all over your owner. you preferred to be alone, surrounded by the pinewood and musky husk the redhead would leave behind. and, by the time he came home from being red riot, you’d be sitting right by the door with big bambi eyes to welcome him home, the little bell on your store-bought collar jingling as you rush to meet kirishima at eight pm sharp each day.

though you’re pampered with treats and pretty things and ear scratches 24/7– kirishima does have you trained by that awful bakugou. you’re by no means a guard dog, despite what your hybrid breed might indicate— but you’re disciplined with house rules and how to sit and act properly. bakugou is mean and he snarls at you from time to time, but the praise and kisses you get from your darling and sweet red haired owner make the training completely worth it. 

nowadays, katsuki doesn’t even question when you scamper onto the couch or perch yourself on eijirou’s lap whenever they have their boys nights to watch the hero rankings live. “pampered fuckin’ pooch,” is all he grunts from over his can of beer. 

“hey,” eijirou will huff, his hands on the fat of your waist or twirling through your fluffy brown and black tail. “don’t be mean, katsuki. they don’t know any better.” 

even with all that house training— you still sneak into his bed when being on your own gets too much. his warmth calms you, and eijirou doesn’t seem to mind the brush of your thick and soft tail against his thighs in the morning. “pup, you’re not s’pposed to be on the bed,” he’d tried to scold you the first time it happened, he really did, but your ears lay flat against your skull and you gave him those eyes and kirishima was quick to dive in next to you— asking you what was wrong. “nightmares huh? of the pound? well, those can’t be very nice. maybe you should share a bed with me tonight. one night won’t hurt, will it?” 

except one night, becomes every single night.

repeatedly, each night, eijirou scoops you up into his flexing, toned arms and carries you to his room instead of your own— tucks you under his weighted duvets not yours, and swamps you with his body heat. he runs like a furnace during the later hours, not that you mind, it’s nice to be close to him. to feel adored like that.

yourself and kirishima are touchier than most hybrid-owner pairs, you’ve noticed. bakugou thinks it’s because you have a clingy-attachment style, the red head because you’ve been deprived of the affection that most pups deserve. he goes beyond headpats and chin scratches, and the ones that itch right behind your floppy fluffy ears. kirishima keeps a hand on the slope of your waist when he takes you for walks on sunny days, he holds your hand instead of your leash most of the time and his lips linger against your forehead a little longer than normal for a hybrid that’s just a housepet. 

you think it’s normal at least, you’ve never been cared for like this and having eijirou’s attention some, if not all, of the time feels like a dream come true. you know that he loves you when actions of endearment become more passionate— when innocent cheek kisses become sloppier lip-locks and when hugs turn into desperate attempts to grab at your flesh, also when your heat cycles become less about finding a mate and more about begging kirishima to ravage  you against the nearest surface, soothing the instinctual ache in your bones and lower tummy. 

he loved you, and you loved him— and you knew that you owed it all to kirishima for the better life he gave you. taking a chance on a shy little puppy hybrid at risk of being put down.

taking a chance on you.

“angel, ‘m home!”

the rustling of brown paper bags, heavy foot-steps and keys jingling in the front door make your puppy dog ears twitch and you perk up from your place deeper in the house at the sound of kirishima coming home from a long day’s work. you scramble up to meet him half-way into the kitchen, tail swishing a mile a minute behind you, nose wriggling in anticipation. “e-eji!” you breathe, fingers itching to reach out and touch him. “you’re back!”

you’re so cute, so loyal that it warms the pro hero right down to his core. kirishima nods once, giving you the go ahead to latch onto him since you’d waited so patiently and lets out a small chuckle as you tuck yourself into his side. “i always come back, don’t i?” setting the bags on the marble island, he frees up a hand to brush over your head softly, using a knuckle to rub behind your ear. “have you been good, baby?” moving to cup your cheeks next, he presses a gentle smooch to the tip of your nose. “‘course you have, you’re always good f’me…but, i gotta know— did ya miss me?”

“i always miss you,” you say a little too quickly, nuzzling into the palm of red riot’s large hand, tail wagging even faster. “can i…can i have a kiss, eiji? please.”

for a moment, a primal look flashes through the hero’s eyes before being replaced with something softer, something that mirrors the smile he gives you. “only ‘cause you asked so nicely, baby,” he says playfully, sliding his hands from your face down to your waist and tugging you nice and close, your hips flush against one another. “c’mere puppy, gimme some sugar, hm?” your body can’t help but bristle, keening into kirishima’s touch as he subtly lowers his voice and guides you into following his command.

you stand on your tiptoes without even realising it, tilting your head upwards as kirishima coaxes your mouth open with his mellow moving tongue—sighing sweetly against your lips until he’s captured them properly in a slow kiss, not giving you too much but pouring enough words into it to let you know how much he cares for you. he pulls away so things don’t too heated, but still keeps his hands on you before you can whine in protest. 

“what’s that?” you ask softly, cocking your head to the side when you notice the bags behind him.

“oh those? well,” kirishima swoops down to your height, nipping your nose with pointed teeth— only serving to make it scrunch up adorably. “i heard it was a certain pup’s birthday today…and it also happens to be the one year anniversary of their adoption. so i got ‘em a lil’ somethin’ to celebrate.”

he lives for the way you smile, almost dies at how your eyes sparkle. “c-can i open it eji?”

“not all of it, pumpkin,” eijirou briefly lets you go and you really do whimper this time, knowing better than to claw at him to stay when you know he’ll be right back. the burly redhead turns to grab a perfectly wrapped package from within the brown paper bag and passes it to you with an eager grin. “go put this on f’me, will you baby? then meet me in the living room once you’re done, for the rest of your present, kay?”

“okay! i’ll be quick!” you practically squeal, vibrating in your place.

“good pup, i’ll be waitin’,” he turns you around with a grip that's barely there, handling you as if you’ll break with too much force and patting you on the bum softly as you go. 

by the time you return to the living room, it’s been completely transformed. 

the lighting is dimmed, a ruby glow filtering through and the soft hum of your favourite song reverberates against the walls and high ceilings. kirishima seems to be fixing a box on the coffee table by the couch before he notices you, a slick and sexy grin tugging at the corners of his lips as you approach him. “there’s my pretty puppy,” he rasps lowly, sending a shiver from the tips of your ears right down to your toes. “god, i think i made the right choice pickin’ that cute lil’ number out for ya, looks so good on you, hun.”

heat pulses under your skin like buzzing kinetic energy, making you tuck the swell of your cheek into your shoulder bashfully, fluffy ears flattening against your skull. “you think so?” said number is a darling little babydoll dress, made of black silk and red lace lace accents that tickle the backs of your thighs with hearts embroidered at the chest.

“it looks perfect on you baby, you’re breathtakin’,” kirishima tells you earnestly, holding his hand out for you to hold— which you take shyly. “c’mere, twirl f’me? wanna see all of you. show off for me, cutie.” every single one of his compliments has your tail swaying from side to side and blood rushing to your brain, making you dizzier than the cute little spins you do for him while the pro hero sinks into the couch to watch you.

he leans back, thighs spreading wide— and you have to fight the urge to drop your gaze between them. “that’s it pretty thing, my puppy’s such a fuckin’ stunner.” kirishima swallows thickly, ruby glossed eyes darkening with desire. “come t’daddy pup, wanna give you your other gift.” 

you quickly shift to stand between his spread legs, quivering like you’re cold has large and rough hands swallow your waist and bunch your night dress up at your hips. he presses sloppy kisses to the softness of your tummy over the material. 

“sit.” he commands simply, tugging on your hips to pull you down with him

“yes daddy,” your breathing is ragged as you sink into kirishima’s lap, thighs apart so that you can straddle him properly.  you wonder if he can hear your heart racing from its place in your chest— your heightened hybrid senses can already pick up on his, kirishima’s pulse sky-rocketing now that you’re on top of him. “c-can i have my gift now?”

his calloused hand pushes the black silk up and over the curve of your ass, red riot digging into the fat of it to rock you back and forth over is hardening girth. “r’member your manners, puppy. yer s’pposed to ask daddy nicely.” nonetheless, he relents and snatches up the box on the coffee table— handing it to you to unravel. “open it up, baby.”

excitedly, you tear through the daintily wrapped package, revealing a red patent leather collar—decorated with red and black bows, and a heart shaped tag with the letters ‘EK’ inscribed into it. collaring was a big deal in the hybrid community, it meant a permanent mark, belonging to someone, being in love.

“let me put it on you,” eijirou simpers, readily slipping the leather around your neck and sliding two fingers underneath it to tug your lips up to his. “i love you, pup.” he confesses, licking into your mouth hungrily and grinding up into your dripping heat.

it’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten and so fast, dumbly following him to the forest fire of lust, sucking on his tongue like a parched puppy lapping at the first drink it can get. hybrids slick up faster when aroused and kirishima turns you on like no other— somehow finding your panty covered clit between your salacious bump and grind. 

slumping against his beefy chest, your nails dig deep into his shoulders and whistle tone dog squeaks bubble up on the swell of your lips each time eijirou swipes the pad of his thumb over your swelling pleasures nub, encouraging your juices to gush over his hard on—glueing you both together by strings your arousal.

“i love you too…p-please e-eiji!” the air in the room feels heavier, tainted with the lust that clouds your logical thought. in fact, you can’t even think right with the way your owner toys with you.  he drools against your puppy tongue, curses into your heated mouth all while you’re riding his fingers like your life depends on it, kirishima pinching at your sticky clit just to hear more of your needy whines. “p-please daddy,”

the hand that once sat lightly against your neck now trails over each dip and curve of your body, barely brushing over your nipples or digging into the meat of your ass and thighs. “you look so fuckin’ good in the things i buy you, hun, drive me fuckin’ insane,” kirishima fights back a moan, cock twitching against your ass, desperate to be inside of you. “so beautiful in that lil’ dress, with my name around your neck. fuck… ‘m so lucky. my pup, daddy’s sexy fuckin’ puppy.” he rambles and praises you all at once, giving you whiplash, making you clench and ooze sweetly around nothing.

you’re sure that the redhead is almost as brainless and as fucked out as you are just from dry humping his darling little pup… but through his own grunts and groans, hips wildly bucking up to meet yours— kirishima still manages to dominate you, make you feel like you don’t even have to think around him. “you want me, pup, is that it? want me to fuck you?” he hums huskily against the shell of your ear, pinging your collar against your neck when you nod your head yes wordlessly. “gotta—fuck— gotta use your words f’daddy, c’mon now, you know that.”

“y-yes daddy, want you. badly.” you slur, and suddenly, your world tilts on its axis. your back hits the sofa with a bounce and you're pinned against it by the weight of your owner above you, your knees being pushed into your shoulders.

“a-always such a good…obedient lil thing f’me,” eijirou groans at the sight of you beneath him. “so perfect, ‘m so lucky t’have such a beautiful puppy all to myself, shit!” your silk baby doll gathers at your hips, soaked panties tucked to the side and your glistening, pulsing mound on display like an attraction made just for him. he wastes no time in yanking down his sweats and boxers in one go— revealing his bright red and angry dick, covered in a thick layer of gooey white precum. all for you. kirishima slaps the length of himself against your slit once, twice before his forehead falls against yours. 

“p-put it in eiji, c-can’t wait daddy…”

even though your cute little sex makes him a wreck, eijirou still manages to hold control over you— teasing you as he forces his fat tip past your tiny, creamy entrance. “so impatient, cutie, i should make you say please… but fuck, i need you so bad right now. might not last long…”

the pair of you let out strained moans as kirishima pushes in and he reaches the hilt—your sweaty bodies flush against one another, both of you covered in layers of each other’s arousal. your pussy flutters at being filled up so fast, clinging onto the pretty blue veins that spiral around his chubby, swollen cock— a low whine rumbles in your chest as the redhead sets a rough stream to his thrusts, milky cockhead brushing against each pulse point on your sensitive walls. 

it’s almost like you’re being knotted, squelching as kirishima tries to pull out of your snug sex that grips him selfishly. all the while, he pounds you to hell and back. you're so full, you’re a slobbering mess already teetering on the edge of insanity. red riot leans over you, washboard abs pressed against the backs of your thighs to force you down into the creaky couch— each time he withdraws from your messy and wet walls, your ears fall back and your tail thumps hard against the cushions, coated in your viscous nectar.

“fuck, this puppycunt sounds so dirty, gorgeous…feels like fuckin’ heaven,” he whispers to you, words damp on your cupid’s bow. “my perfect puppy, a dumb lil’doggy on my cock…s’such a fuckin’ dream.” your brain empties, becomes a void that’s filled with only eijirou kirishima and the way he fucks you deep, hits every spot, touches your body like a man worshipping a higher power. “‘m so lucky baby, really am.”

your collar jingles, the pendant with his name on it bouncing every time kirishima’s cock bullies its way into your gooey insides until they give into him. you’re the lucky one, you think— lucky to be loved like this, to have been rescued from the pound and pinned down on a dick that aches to be inside you, wrapping around his pulsing length to the point where you’re practically milking him already.

“d-daddy!” you hiccup, big fat tears clumping in your lashes, your face a beautiful mess to the man above you. “i can’t…”

the pro hero reaches down between your bodies, close to cumming just from listening to you howl over the sounds of skin slapping on skin, and tugs at your soft slick tail—stroking it until your pussy quivers and gushes around him, painting your babydoll dress and his half rolled down sweats with a fresh wave of your essence. every time he pets the fluffy appendage, you get wetter and wetter, tighter and tighter and your moans loud enough to wake the neighbours. 

heavy hips rock into you, even heavier balls clap creamily against your fleshy ass and kirishima lets his head drop to your neck—biting and sucking possessively at exposed skin just above where your collar lies. “yes you fuckin’ can, your daddy’s good pup right?” he slurs hungrily, writing his claim against your throat. “when you get close, hold it f’daddy, be obedient ‘n you’ll get your reward.”

you feel like everything’s on fire, every nerve ending in your body buzzing with anticipation— the knot in your stomach seconds away from unwinding. “b-but daddy—!”

“hold it.” eijirou warns sternly, though his breath stutters— every instinct that he has threatening to breed you up full with a load of his hot cum. “h-hold it, hon,” you sob at the pain and pleasure of holding off, thighs twitching, tail hitting the couch hard and puppy ears flopping over your face. you’re so adorable like this, jolting up the piece of furniture as the redhead languidly canters into you. he finally breaks when you let out a weak cry of his name, his first spurts of cum pouring into you. “f-fuck, let go for me puppy, make a mess on daddy’s cock—shit, thats it. so good, all over me, wanna see you cummin’ with me…”

white hot ropes of seed paint your insides just as your eyes roll back into your skull. he feels so warm, coating your insides with a layer of his cum as if to claim you from the inside out. there’s so much of it that oozes out of your entrance thickly, like a running tap of honey  that ruins your pussy lips with opaque white—triggering your own orgasm. kirishima holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear as your release crashes over you, rocking your world while your juices splatter out against his pelvis and all over your cute little gown in clear streams.

“happy birthday, beautiful,” the redhead mumbles to you sweetly, kissing his initials on your pendant and right up to your lips. “i love you.”

“t-thank you eiji,” you whisper back— a sleepy, full and content puppy. “i love you too.”

[yanderestarangel]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 |

TW: smut, daddykink, afab anatomy, degradation, enemies to lovers context.

˚｡⋆.☆Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post, comments and reblogs are welcome♡

⭑BI HAN⭒

He wouldn't like your boldness from the moment you greeted him, calling him "ice head". You were extremely annoying at first for Bi Han to deal with your jokes while you passed the information via communicator and you smiled mischievously on the other end of the line, even with the man literally fighting to the death against the enemy force. He would come back from the mission extremely pissed off with you going full steam towards him, ripping you out of your chair and then grabbing your collar. He would say how irresponsible and annoying you were, he would look you in the eyes while you smiled saying that he was exaggerating too much, the fight would draw everyone's attention, including Liu Kang, saying that you were a good team and that you shouldn't have fights, making the grand master release his collar and walk away. After that, you two were sent on a mission. Bi Han even forgot what happened - in fact he was pretending so as not to throw you off the cliff closest to you-

You were wearing the costumes of the Lin Kuei clan now, according to your grandmaster Bi Han, he was going to make you look better in the enemy environment, he had never really noticed you, your face and body completely matching the uniform and slightly squeezing your breasts, leaving the man was confused by the feeling there, since according to himself, if he had permission he wouldn't even help you return to the earthly plane with him, but that disappeared from the moment he saw you smile at him after you eliminated the last one target, leaving the shadowy position he was in, laughing satisfied with his work while giving his hand to the man to shake as a synonym for "making peace", soon Bi Han realized that he was staring at you, making your small figure recoil and apologize because of what happened last time between the two of you, the big man would melt inside, but not even he knew why, making a quick nod of his head, then his deep voice would tell the two of you to go meet Liu Kang again. The great anger between the two of you towards each other would soon disappear - especially on Bi Han's part since you just found him a pain in the ass and annoying - the two of you began to slowly get closer, going from enemies to friends, soon with the great and feared Bi Han laughing at his jokes under his sub zero mask. He would never admit it but he loved having you fill everyone's patience and play silly pranks to pass the time. He would only really realize that he was in love with you when he saw you talking to someone else and smiling so sweetly like only you knew how to do. In his head you were teasing him - and you really were, you were also in love with your grandmaster and wanted to know how far that man would go in being teased by you - and he hated being teased. He would trap you in the closest corridor where the two of you were alone and grab his face hard, making you surprised by the impact of the wall on your back. "-I really don't understand, teasing me like that? You want to open your legs for anyone? I have a fucking dick that throbs every time you open that annoying mouth of yours, you should use it to suck my dick you little whore shit." -Bi Han spoke while pressing the erection in his pants against your ass, while your face was against the wall, you smiled mischievously as you tried to turn around and look into the eyes of the man who would trap you again while the sound of a zipper being opened filled the air of the corridor. "-I'll teach you to never play with my feelings and luck again, little boy/girl."

⭑JOHNNY CAGE⭒

You were one of the monks and he would soon notice your mischievous looks, Johnny Cage likes to joke but you were too much for him, too sassy, ​​too funny and too sexy and this combo ended up turning into the man's dislike for you. Every time Cage tried to talk a little seriously with you he was received with irony and sarcasm and this tired him to the point of asking for his removal from Liu Kang's team of fighters, which was obviously denied. However, everything changes with an interception mission, where Johnny was in charge of going with you to get some information for the fire god, but a serious communication error occurred that could lead to the entire mission ending and several dead civilians from exo-terra. You two had been called by Liu Kang and you took all the blame taking the weight off the man's shoulders, soon after you two left he would thank you and his anger towards you would soon disappear, trying to get closer and you two would soon become an unbeatable duo - and also unbearable for everyone - The two of you always completed each other's sentences without meaning to, your connection grew every day until the two of you always had the right to eat at the same table, away from everyone and smiling at each other. Needless to say, he was already in love with you - and you knew it - but neither of you would speak until the other spoke first. Until one day Johnny saw you flirting with another fighter while running your fingers over his chest, making poor Johnny, he felt sad but full of hatred, immediately going towards you, grabbing your wrist and pushing the other person who was confused by it all, he would tell the man to stay away from you and then drag you to an empty room outside. You were thrown hard against the wall, then you looked up as Johnny took off his belt, you knew what was going to happen and you were loving every second of it. "-What did I do, Mr. Cage?" You spoke as you watched the man's huge cock pop out of his pulsing underwear, the tip glistening. "-Are you a fucking little slut, wanting to give your fucking pussy to another man? You have me, you know I like you, don't you Y/N? Will you learn to never defy me like that again?" -Him he spoke while watching you push his cock into your mouth, everyone would surely hear your moans.

⭑LIU KANG⭒

You were going to know him because he was a Lin Kuei ninja, you were sitting with your feet up on the table next to your grand master and he would soon make eye contact with you and kindly ask you to get ready for the meeting since there were going to be other combatants there. You would smile roguishly and look at Liu Kang with disdain, but you would do what he was saying followed by: "-Are you satisfied, my old man?"- Which would leave him in complete shock, looking at your posture while you smiled and the rest of the fighters would arrive, but he couldn't stop looking at you and you the same as him. Liu Kang really didn't know how to act around you, He tried to understand why you were so annoying and beautiful at the same time - even if he was the one who raised you lol - Whenever you two had to do a mission he would have to deal with with you calling him "Daddy" or just "old man" while he said that his name was just Lord Liu Kang fur and smiled slightly as he heard your laugh of amusement. On this list, I think Liu Kang is the only one who really hid his passion with dislike, he never really disliked you, but he needed to protect himself for several reasons. So he gets closer to you, even liking the nickname you gave him. He would invite you to have tea after a Shaolin training session. Until one day Liu Kang sees you sitting on a ninja's lap while he runs his hand down your back and towards your butt, he immediately goes towards the two of you saying that he needs to talk to you alone, he soon He would notice his mischievous smile and give him a kiss on the cheek, going with Liu Kang to their room. Within minutes you were already being fucked by him on the table while your breasts bounced as Liu Kang fucked your tight pussy. "-See you, moaning like a whore under me... Is that because of my dick?" -He spoke while thrusting even harder, his crotch and cock were soaked with liquids from your pussy but he didn't care how sensitive you were, he would continue. You moaned desperately calling him Daddy as you felt another orgasm come over you. "-My little whore... I love it when you call me that... I want you to moan loudly so everyone can hear that this pussy has an owner."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[horrorisunknowntoyou]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Artist! Fem-Reader

Ghost actually didn't know you were an artist, you didn't brag about it or anything. You mainly kept it to yourself even in the beginning of your relationship with him. Mostly because you were embarrassed.

But much like him, you were a soldier, you spent most of your free time observing around the area or doodling in your sketchbook. It was a small one, 8 x 5, black with an elastic band around it, moleskin brand. It easy to carry around in your chest pocket during missions and such.

You were also the girl that ALWAYS had some sort of writing utensil with you, being pencils, pens etc you always had to have it on hand. Not to mention you kept finding them on the floor or other places while walking, so you would always give it to anyone who needs.

Ghost and the others soon started to notice, you pulling out a book in hand with pencil out. Being waiting for planes to pick them up or free time. You always had that book on you no matter what.

Until one day, you forgot your sketchbook as you left it beside you on a bench one day because and commanding officer called you in to chat with you.

Ghost soon noticed and walked over and picked up the book. Curious, he open to see what's inside, only to be met with his face, well, his mask but you get the point.

The sketchbook was filled with sketches of various art styles, of him and other soldiers such as Price, Gaz and Soap. He also noticed you taking cool things you find, like receipts, stickers, tickets etc.

There was even a page full of different skull mask designs for him to try out if he ever wanted to. It's obvious you had talent for this, and saw the world much different then he did.

"Ghost? What are you doing?" Y/n said walking up to him noticing him looking through your sketchbook. "W-wha? How did you get that?"

"You accidentally left it behind." He close the book in hand. Turning to face you, " Y/n why didn't you tell me you are an artist?" You stood there quietly, trying to think, " well...I don't know...I thought you would think it's weird I draw you without asking for permission or anything. "

You can feel him giving you a confused look, " weird? Your wrong doll. In fact I quite enjoy these, I think you should draw me more often then MacTavish though."

"ah, you noticed that."

He leaned in close to your face, his eyes staring at you. " Of course I did."

You can feel your face warming up by close he is, "alright, alright I get it...and to be frank the only one who technically knew I drew was Captain Price. During a meeting once, he saw me doodling on a piece of paper instead of paying attention...he would sometimes ask that I would draw stupid things for him."

"is that so? Show me."

You pulled out a little pocket book for index cards, and on the back of the index cards were stupid drawing of them, ghost include doing dumb shit. It was meant as an inside joke between you, price and even sometimes Laswell.

Ghost couldn't help but snicker at the drawings, it has your art style and humour on it. It's obvious, it's yours.

"You drew Johnny as a literal soap bar, he's going to hate this."

"Well you weren't supposed to see this."

"hmph, And who's this supposed to be?" He flips the index card showing a cartoonish looking grim reaper. You let out a nervous laugh, " ah that...well...uh... "

"Is that supposed to be me, sergeant?"

"Possibly."

"Yes or No?"

You sigh, "yes, it's you." Rubbing the back of your head embarrassed.

"Good girl, I'm keeping this as a souvenir." He says, placing the index card in his pocket. Leaving you there a flustered mess.

"Wait what?!"

Since then, Ghost liked to lean on your shoulder and watch you draw at times, be it at bars with the rest of the crew or at home. It's therapeutic for him at times.

Sometimes he joins in but he mainly like just watching you.

Also since you know he likes flipping through your sketchbook at times, you leave cute messages or notes for him to read. And doodles that supposed to represent you two. Mainly a cartoonish grim reaper holding hands with a witch. Since your nickname is "Salem."

Also Ghost likes to sometimes buy art supplies for you, and see how creative you are.

He's honestly amazed how you view things differently then him because of art, be it colors, or shapes etc. It's interesting to hear your perspective and thoughts both good and bad.

He may not fully understand everything you say, but he knows your passionate in what you do and he respects that. As long your happy he's happy too.

A/n: This is very self indulgence lol, hope you like it! I plan to write some ghost x Mexican fem reader or little scenarios/head cannons. I'm not sure yet but for now that's all :)

[thezombieprostitute]

Apparently I'm still in a mood and LLOYD ISN'T HELPING! I'm supposed to be working and, instead, Lloyd's got me writing about 1000 words of smut!

Warnings: Lloyd being Lloyd, Smut. Please let me know if I missed any.

Everything has been getting on your nerves today. Especially Lloyd. And he knew it.

"Lloyd, seriously, I'm trying to work here!" Lloyd had started pushing things off your desk so he could sit on it. You quickly grabbed your laptop before he could destroy the thing.

"Work is boring, Cupcake," he smiled. "I'm what you should be paying attention to."

"Kinda hard not to when you're wearing nothing but a speedo."

"Oh, this old thing?" Lloyd leans so he's on his side, propping his head up with his arm. "Just felt like showing off the goods."

"And as much as you know I appreciate those goods, I need to pay attention to work right now." You get up to move to the table but he grabs your arm.

"C'mon," he purrs. "You've been stressed all week. Let me take care of you."

"Your solution for my stress is causing me more stress?" You break his hold. "I need to finish this, project Lloyd. Then I've got an entire month long vacation scheduled where you can have me all to yourself."

"But I need you now," he groans as he gets off of the desk.

"I can tell, Lloyd," you nod. "The speedo hides nothing, let alone how hard you are right now."

He grins that cheshire grin you hate to admit your love for. "Just a quickie, then? A preview of what you're gonna get during vacation?"

"Lloyd, we both know you can't do quickies," you shake your head. His grin turns smug. "Normally, you know I love that you can eat me out for hours. But right now, I'm working."

Lloyd huffs and walks off angrily. You promise yourself you'll make it up to him when you're done and on vacation.

As you get back into the flow of your work, your browser suddenly stops working. Panicking you check your laptop's network connection to find it's not connected to anything. You switch to your phone to call up work so you can explain what happened, but there's no signal. That's when you know what happened.

"LLOYD!!" You stomp to the living room, the best place for him to put a jammer. He's sitting there, fully dressed, pretending to read a newspaper.

"What seems to be the problem, Sunshine?"

"Where's the signal jammer?" You look around the room, checking all the bookshelves, moving the furniture, anything to find it.

"Jammer? Sweetie, clearly you're frustrated if you're confusing a network outage with me sabotaging your work."

"It's in your pants, isn't it?" He grins and you bring a hand to your face. "Fine, Lloyd. You want some attention? You want to help me let off some steam? Fine. Let's do this."

You grab the front of Lloyd's shirt and pull him up as best you can. You have the element of surprise but he's happy to work with you to get him up. He wasn't expecting you to continue pulling him until he was on his stomach on the coffee table.

"What the--" he's cut off when you spank his ass. He lets out a small moan and you keep going until your hand is too sore. "Holy shit," he gasps as you pull on his shirt to get him to stand up.

Once he's standing you're removing his pants and shorts before pushing him back onto his seat. He is fully hard, just as you knew he would be. He spreads his legs, giving you full access and you grab his cock and start roughly stroking him.

"Holy shit, Cupcake," he breathes. "A little romance, maybe?"

You grab his ear, making him wince, and whisper to him, "you wanted my attention. Now take it like the good boy I know can be." Lloyd groans at your words and starts fucking up into your hand. As soon as he does, you let go and he whimpers.

"No, no, Lloyd," you admonish. "You want me to blow of some steam? Destress a bit? You're going to sit there and not move until I give you permission."

"But I wanna play with you," he complains.

"You don't deserve to touch me after the stress you've caused me. Now put your hands behind your back and keep them there."

He pouts a little but complies. That's when you push the coffee table to the side and kneel between his legs. You lick the tip of his cock and he hisses.

"Remember, Lloyd, you do anything without permission, and I stop."

"Yes, ma'am," he breathes, his voice hoarse with need.

You work his impressive length with both of your hands and your mouth. Lloyd's always been impressed with how easily you can take him in your throat and you're not holding back on him now.

Every time you can feel or hear him tense you almost smile. You know he wants to move, wants to fuck up into your mouth, wants to control the speed with his hands on your head. But he wouldn't dare. You're in charge here and you both know it.

"Need to cum," he pleads. "Please, let me cum?"

Raising your head from his cock Lloyd has to bite back a groan at how beautiful you look. Your eyes teary from taking him so well, the determination in your face, the drool around your mouth. He wants to cum all over that pretty face and make it prettier.

"Will you be a good boy and let me work?"

"Yes," he nods. "Yes, please let me cum all over your face and I'll let you work."

"Where's the jammer?" You squeeze his cock and he groans. His hand goes to between the cushions of his seat and he pulls out the electronic device, handing it to you. "Thank you," you coo. "Now let's finish you off."

You take all of Lloyd's erection in one move, making him start spewing obscenities. You know exactly how to get Lloyd to cum and once you feel he's about to let go, you lift your head, continuing to stroke him with your mouth open, eyes on him, as you get him to cum all over your face.

You start wiping your face off with his shirt as he catches his breath. "Feel better?"

"So much better. Thank you, Sunshine."

"Now I'm going to get back to work and you're going to not interfere."

"But if I don't interfere, how will I get such an amazing blow job?"

You roll your eyes. Really this whole thing was a win-win for Lloyd. It always is when it comes to him and he knows it. It's one of the reasons you hate how much you love him.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[kneelingshadowsalome]

A Brute, An Angel... (König x F!OC)

Summary: König gets an order to make a female SpecGru sniper talk, but König doesn't want to hurt women.

Category: Smut 🔞, angst, fluff

Tags & warnings: Explicit mature content +18 audiences only, strangers to lovers (slight enemies to lovers), dubious consent, threats of rape, virgin!König, size kink, size difference, p in v, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, squirting, hugs and cuddles, super fluffy ending. König will be named in later chapters. 

A/N: KorTac and SpecGru are rivaling military contractors, Conor is König's superior (and a huge villain), and I just wanted to write angsty smut featuring our favourite Austrian boi. 

Part 1/3 of Valkyrie

Read on Ao3

A Brute, An Angel...

"You're always yappin' about how ya can make prisoners talk. Now here's ya chance."

König tried his best to stand tall while Conor spat at him with a gruff accent he couldn't quite place. He could tell the man got off on this: getting a chance to order him around and making him uncomfortable. He concentrated on looking down at him — knowing perfectly well that it only pissed Conor off when he did that. As if König could will himself to be shorter.

"But she's a… She's a girl. Sir."

"She is an enemy, and we need that intel."

I highly doubt that, sir.

"What do you want me to do with her?"

"Make the captive talk. Ya don't have to do the usual. If y'know what I mean."

"Are you suggesting that I rape her, Conor?"

The fact that he used the Lieutenant's name to appeal to him on a more personal level should've spoken volumes. But it had little effect on the man everybody in the KorTac was more or less scared of.

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm giving you an order."

If Calisto or Stiletto were here, Conor would be on the ground by now, begging for mercy. König found himself thinking what stopped him from gutting the man right then and there.

"Does the team leader know about this?"

“Never ya mind about that."

"Permission to speak, sir," Zero pushed in.

"Go on."

"This goes against the protocol-"

"Did ya give two shits about the bloody protocol when we were in Adal?"

The abrupt outburst almost made König flinch. Almost.

Zero didn't turn the slightly disgusted gaze away, but snapped his mouth shut.

"I - I can't do it," König muttered.

"You sayin' you refuse to obey an order?"

König straightened upon hearing the word 'order' but otherwise remained in confused silence.

"I suggest you carry on unless ya wanna get demoted to a fuckin' desk job. It's your call."

And with that, Conor turned and marched off. Zero followed suit, sparing a pitiful glance at König as he went.

He was left alone in the bunker hallway, illuminated by a lamp that produced an unnerving buzz.

Conor was only doing this because he liked to bully him. Somehow, somewhere, Lt had lost his humanity, but it wasn't supposed to be his problem. Not until Conor made it his problem.

Something in him made the Lieutenant tick. König didn't know whether it was because he was a relatively fresh recruit or whether it was the fact that he was a foreigner. Hell, maybe it was the mask, how could he know?

"Fuckin' jerry."

And he wasn't even; he was Austrian, but Conor didn't care, which meant that it was something else about him that got under his skin. The man had vehemently decided to hate him, and he could do nothing about it.

König turned to the door leading to the interrogation room, grabbed the doorknob, inhaled deeply, and went in.

The girl was tied to the ceiling with a grey paracord that bit into her wrists as she hung there, barely able to stand. The bastard had bound her unreasonably tight. An ugly sight, that.

But she wasn't.

The thick braid was messy, her arms were more or less bruised, and her face had dirt on it, but she was, by far, one of the loveliest beings he had ever seen. She looked like heaven and hell, an angel of war who had fought for days against overwhelming forces and only wanted to sleep.

He swallowed, glad of the hood making the blob of his Adam’s apple invisible. She stirred and looked up, eyes dark with the burned out wrath of a cornered wild thing. She looked dog-tired, and scared. Beaten. And no one had even struck her yet. Not that he knew of, at least.

She pulled herself to her feet by the rope, although it was long enough to allow her to stand, and raised her chin.

"So you're the one they sent to break me."

-----

It was him.

The man that had gotten her in this situation in the first place.

She had been stupid enough to freeze for a few moments, the crucial little moments that meant the difference between life and death, escape and capture. And for what? To watch how this beast raged on the battlefield like it was his playground, to watch how he plowed through her mates while bullets showered around him. Seemed to evade him even though he was the largest possible target in the whole damn skirmish.

It didn't really help that his gear was gone. He was still one of the biggest men she had ever seen. If not the biggest.

The black hood was still in place, though, making him look like an inquisitor. Or an executioner.

She suspected he was here to make her talk. He could probably make anyone talk... But there was a particular threat present here. She was a woman in a helpless state, and she had a hunch that this mountain of a man wouldn't shy away from any methods that would humiliate and destroy her. He probably enjoyed it: getting a little treat after a nice day in the field.

The man strode to her, and it seemed that the only thing that moved as he walked was his hips. But the sound of his weight, the sheer mass that met the floor through combat boots, made her draw back in a futile attempt to disappear somewhere between her raised arms.

He stopped a generous few feet away, crossed his arms over his chest, then unraveled them again to his sides. He was all corded muscle beneath that black shirt, the fabric barely concealing the curves of a well-built chest. The poor textile stretched from the swell of his shoulders.

She didn't say anything. She expected a punch in the face, a knee to the stomach. Something to get things started.

He walked behind her, much more slowly, the thumps against the cold, hard cement causing the hair on her neck to stand on end. He stepped close, so close that she could feel his body heat against her back.

"Listen to me." She flinched at his voice, far more high-pitched than she would've suspected from such a beast of a man.

"I'm going to help you. But you have to assist me here."

The 'here' sounded more like german for 'hier'. Through her terror sweat and confusion, she found herself wondering how odd it was that the KorTac had some German guy working for them.

"We have to…" he cleared his throat from the falsetto his voice was climbing to.

And she only now realized that he was nervous.

The soldier was fucking nervous.

"We have to have intercourse," he continued, his accent bleeding thick through her senses like some goddamn ASMR she used to calm herself with. A guilty pleasure she succumbed to when she tried to reach sleep after a mission.

Only after she got past the fact that the enemy soldier's voice made her feel tingly, she understood what he had said exactly. What he was proposing.

She knew that nerves and adrenaline were a fucked up thing. You could get turned on during the most absurd situations when the survival instinct kicked in. Those situations could include getting a target on sight and pulling the trigger, or getting hit and receiving care under fire.

Turned out that it could include the prospect of getting tortured by a 6 feet something enemy merc who whispered in her ear with a thick German accent, gently like a lover.

Perhaps this whole set-up was just another kind of torture. A good cop, bad cop routine, in which he was both of the cops. He tried to tear her walls down and make her trust him, and when she refused to tell him anything, he would get to work. Tear her nails off, dislocate joints, rape her bloody.

"I'm not going to speak."

She announced it with a far less stern voice than she would’ve preferred, and heard him swallow. Either he was damn good at acting, or he was the most socially anxious soldier she had ever seen.

He rounded her and stopped only an inch or two from her face. Which only reached the man’s chest, broad and lean, covered in that black shirt and smelling of battlefield along with his sweat - the combination hitting her nostrils as an undiluted, masculine scent. He reached a gloved hand to prop her chin up, to force her to look at him.

It was her turn to swallow, and the angle he forced her neck caused the sound of her gulp to echo in the bunker. The tactical glove had cut-proof padding on the knuckles, and it scratched the delicate facial skin, even though his touch was more of a coax than a yank. But that wasn’t what caught her attention so vividly that it nearly made her knees buckle.

It was his ice-blue stare. The eyes stood out from the holes of his mask, from among the heavily applied black facial paint like two beacons. And they were gentle. Bordering on puppy eyes. The thought alone nearly made her laugh hysterically.

Even with her faltering knowledge of human character, she could’ve bet all in that this man would not hurt her. That he was far from a torturer.

And the knowledge made her even more confused. If he wasn’t the torturer, then who was he? What the hell did he want?

“You have to co-operate.” His voice was strained with something akin to despair.

“I can only help you escape if you co-operate,” he whispered, his voice so low it went straight between her legs.

Jesus, this was not okay.

He released her chin, but she didn’t turn her gaze away. Her eyes roamed his face, or rather, the black hood that covered it. She wondered why he wore it when other soldiers didn’t bother to hide their identities. The only other man she had seen wearing a mask was Lt, with the top of a human skull attached to his balaclava. And even he wasn’t this big. Albeit menacing and shrouded in mystery that came from all things danger, death, and pain, the man before her now intrigued her far more than even Ghost did.

Why did he hide his face? Why was he so… jittery?

And why did he try to escape her gaze?

He looked like the whole situation was too much for him. To say that the man was distraught when she merely looked him straight in the eyes when he told her that they needed to fuck, would be an understatement.

If she were to choose a man to torture someone with his dick, this would be her last choice.

“What’s the escape plan, then?” She asked, still not believing for a second that he would help her, even if he didn’t strike her as intimidating anymore.

"I, uh…"

"You don't have a plan?"

"Well, not yet."

"Why am I not surprised," she murmured into the stale, dusty air of the chamber. "Why would you even want to help me?"

"I don't hurt women," he said and took a step back as if to confirm that statement.

This was so fucking ridiculous. He was a mercenary in a filthy bunker with a bound prisoner, assuring that he was a gentleman. Was she on candid camera or something?

She had never been in a situation like this. She had never imagined being in a situation even remotely close to this. She would have laughed over the absurdity of the whole thing but couldn't, because her lower lip started to tremble.

He noticed it and instantly shifted weight from one leg to the other. He tried to direct his anxiety into the leisurely movement, and it caused his hips to sway from one side to the other, making her think of all kinds of stupid associations, such as lapdance and snake hips.

With those rather tight khaki pants, it was impossible to prevent her eyes from darting to the bulging thighs and the evident package he was delivering between them.

Jesus fucking Christ, pull your shit together…

"I'm going to get you out of here," he promised.

"That's cute of you," she tiredly threw in, getting far too much satisfaction out of the reaction her words managed to pull out of him. He blinked a few times, and the colossal chest heaved as if the man was trying to catch his breath. "Funny that you need to fuck me to be able to do so."

Another switch from side to side, a sway of those goddamn khaki-covered hips.

"I'm almost positive that the only surveillance they have on this room is that camera over there. The screen is in another room," he told her, sounding stupidly proud of his debatable skills in spying. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. "But the guys there are usually watching tv," he hurried to add.

"I doubt they will today if your orders are to rape me." Again, he looked abashed, eyes darting to the floor and back to her. Was this guy thick in the head or something? "Probably got their beers popped and their pants down by now…" she said, and the man let out something close to a squeal.

"That is exactly why we have to… provide them with something until I come up with a plan."

She looked at him and almost smiled. Like one would smile at a daft dog that was far too eager to please.

"You just said you don't hurt women," she said.

"That is why I very much wish you would co-operate," he answered.

"You are the weirdest torturer ever."

"I - I am not a torturer. I'm just a soldier," he tried to assure her with that climbing voice. He was shitty at concealing his uneasiness. The man was completely flustered.

"Then why did they assign you with this… task," she demanded to know. It was yet again laughable: as if he was the one being grilled here. He wouldn't answer, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Ever interrogated with your dick before?" She blurted.

His hands were trembling. Slightly, but they were.

"Negative," he said, voice tight.

Was this guy….

Was he a virgin?

The twisted concept of some romantic chivalry, the nervousness, the respectful distance he kept, and the fact that his hands started shaking when she said a dirty word, all pointed to the possibility that he very much might be.

She thought he was picked because he was big, because his obvious blessings in the crotch department also held a promise of pain. But this guy certainly didn't know what the heck he was doing. And not only because he wasn't a torturer or because he didn't want to hurt a lady. She could almost swear, hand on Bible, that this man had never been with a woman. Not much further than the first base, anyway.

"Well, get on with it then."

She told herself it was only because it was useless to postpone the suffering that would eventually come anyway.

She told herself it was not because she was trying to break a Guinness world record of developing Stockholm Syndrome to this guy and his adorableness. She told herself it was definitely not because she kinda sorta wanted to see how he would act when he had to actually pull that cock out and touch her with it.

He stared at her, eyes wide beneath that oversized hood, and she could swear it was his heart, not hers, that made that thumping sound.

"I am going to touch you," he informed her. Like the dumbest moron.

If she ever got out of here, and if she ever, ever told this story to someone, they wouldn't be able to believe it.

He took his gloves off - why would he even bother to do that? - and let them drop to the ground.

His fingers were long, the fingernails meticulously cut. There were a few scrapes and scratches here and there on his palm, indicating his lack of coordination. Clumsy boy.

When he reached for her, she assumed he would go for her tits, or her waist, or grope her ass. But he didn't. Fingers cupped her face, trembling still, before they slid over her neck and grabbed her throat, not to choke, but to revel. Like she was a sculpture or something, and he wanted to know how the material felt. How soft she was.

She looked into his eyes, because eyes told everything; they would betray a flash of sadism or whatever else she still expected from this strange man. They roamed all over her, darted across her face, every now and then to her eyes, but mostly avoided her stare like the plague. He wouldn’t hold a gaze for much longer than a glimpse of a second. And there was still no sign of lust for inflicting pain. Only perplexed wonderment.

Her hands and arms were numb because of the position she was in, hands tied above her head, blood flow inhibited. But she paid it no mind as his hand traveled down her neck, caressed her collarbones, and then stopped right before he reached the gap between her breasts, free game in the white tank top she had been left with, along with her cargo pants and boots.

“Can I… May I kiss you?” He asked, his voice muffled and so thick that it was difficult to untangle what he had said.

It was such an odd request that her words left her, and she could only produce a whimpering sound at the back of her throat. He took it as a yes, and raised his hood, only enough to reveal a pair of thin lips among a light brown stubble. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, then opened again, as if he didn’t know how to proceed.

He bent down like the giant he was, not hinging at the hips but hunching over towards her, probably trying to appear smaller but ending up looking like there was a tower falling on her. The smell of gasoline and sweat hit her as his lips met hers, parted, and a shy flick of tongue swept across her bottom lip. She tried to remember how to breathe and ignore the rush of wetness that told her she would have no problem whatsoever with him parting her nether lips too. He captured her lip, sucked, then opened his mouth wider and hers with it.

She answered his kiss - just a little bit, and he instantly deepened it and moaned into her mouth. She fluttered her eyes open and saw that his were squeezed shut. He pressed a hand against her back and pulled her against his overwhelming body. All she could feel was muscle… and then some more. He was hard, the thick erection colliding with her stomach all but seductively. She went completely stiff, eyes wide and lips tight.

The man went even more rigid, if possible. He released her mouth with a grunt and buried his head in her neck.

"I can't -... I can't do this, I'm gonna go and tell him they need to find somebody else," he said in a strained voice, riddled with pain.

No. No.

The fuck he would.

If he would be replaced by somebody else, some crazy, blood-drunk soldier with cold eyes and a knife, some jerk-off who hadn't had a go with a woman since their last leave, she would fucking die.

"Please don't," she hushed and swallowed against him, the place where his hood and the collar of his shirt revealed skin.

"I want it to be you," she continued to whisper in his ear, meaning to say If it has to be somebody, let it be you, but choosing to deliver a sentence as persuasive as possible. As inviting as possible.

So that he wouldn't leave her in the hands of someone with no mercy.

"Scheiße…" The hot air brushed against her skin, even through that hood.

"If only I could touch you too," she said, regretting it immediately. She was acting a little too enthusiastic in the midst of her panic. Trying desperately to prevent him from leaving.

But the hand on her back moved down a bit, and long fingers splayed over the small of her back, pressing gently.

"Don't tease me," he huffed, panting although they were both quite still.

Jesus Christ… at this rate, the KorTac could hire her to do the interrogations.

She wondered whether the surveillance team was looking at the scene, which was far too intimate and loving to be an interrogation. What kind of a man would try to pry information out of someone by embracing them gently? Kissing them hesitantly?

In a way, this was torture: she didn't know what would happen to her after… whatever this was. She didn't know what procedures would follow when the others found out he had no intel for them to tell.

Let's get this fucking over with.

"What's your name?" She asked, hoping that the puppy boy wasn't naive enough to tell her his actual name.

"They call me König."

King in german...

"König…-"

She meant to ask him to touch her so that this horrible, awkward mess would come to at least some sort of an end, but couldn't find the words. His name on her tongue seemed to do the trick, though. He ground his hips against her, and had she not been tied to the ceiling, the movement would have toppled her. The hand on her back went behind her knee and raised it to his hip. Then another hand slid down to do the same to her other knee, pulling her from the ground like she weighed nothing at all.

The strain on her arms was released, and the relief was heavenly. For that alone, she could've let him do whatever he wanted to her.

"You're so klein… small," he commented with her raised to straddle his lap and her face finally on the same level as his. "Small people make good snipers," he declared with a hint of longing in his voice.

She had a terrible urge to sling the bundle of hands over his head. And not for self-defense reasons.

"I'm not that small, you're just big," she said, like a beauty to the beast, like it was a cute scene in a movie where everybody was nice to each other. Her gut feeling of the man being a virgin only increased by the minute. He was so… blameless. It was downright unintelligible that he was a soldier.

But she had seen how brutal he was on the field, how he had struck holes in her teammate with a combat knife like he was playing tag and didn't quite know the rules. Didn't know that one stab in a well-picked spot would have sufficed.

She had seen him haul a grown man with 100 extra pounds of tactical gear on him up like the poor man was a barbell, and bring them down over his knee. The sound of a breaking spine would probably haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. She had simply gawked at the display of utter, brutal violence before her. Normal men, even soldiers of a special forces tactical unit, simply didn't do stuff like that. Hands-on, down in the mud, barbarian kind of stuff from medieval times.

And now the same man was fondling her like she was his sweetheart. Like he was about to carry her in the bedroom full of roses and other syrupy valentines shit.

"And what do they call you?"

The accent was really doing things to her, along with the few german words tossed here and there, absentmindedly like candy. He was an enigma with his colossal body, croaking voice, and gentleness that surpassed even the violence.

"Valkyrie."

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, astonished.

"My team found out I used to do fencing, and I'm blonde, so…"

It was silly and the swords weren't even that big. One could hardly call them swords at all, the pointy little things they were.

But the situation indeed had taken a turn into a sick fairytale. Like, come on. Valkyrie and König? Some stupid hippie would've loved that: how it was meant to be, destined, even, that the two of them had met. That she was a damsel in distress, and he was here to save her from the ring of fire.

She stifled the urge to shake her head, to snap out of where this was spiraling into.

Affection.

They barely even knew each other's codenames. She was in a modern version of a dungeon, lit by a single light bulb, about to get raped by some edgy, mentally unstable goliath, she reminded herself. While perhaps psychologically interesting, he was not okay. This was not okay. She had been trained for situations like this.

Except that she wasn't. She was trained to withstand torture, battering, spending days in a cell where the lights never went out. She knew methods to draw the mind away from constant pain. But she hadn't received instructions on what to do in a situation where she wasn't even being questioned. Not even on the sly. Her call sign wasn't much of a secret. They probably knew who she was before they brought her to this room.

"There are many stories of valkyries in my Heimat," he prattled on enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I know the Nibelung saga," she said.

"Very heroic, very German tale."

"You ought to know."

"No no, I'm not German, I'm Austrian," he said.

This was turning into an odd conversation.

"König." She said in an attempt to bring his attention to the present moment. He fluttered his eyes, long lashes batting over that innocent-looking stare.

"Don't. Just… don't," she tried not to stutter.

He had lied to her about not being a torturer. Chatting with her like they were on their first date, discovering that they were actually intrigued about one another... It was insufferable. Although she was the one who had started it by asking his name…

"Right. Getting on with it," he said like he had been given an order. Her heart stung. Tears were welling up from the absurdity of this whole situation, from his silliness, from her having felt rather comfortable and safe in his hold. Fucking safe.

She should quit the army when she got out of here. If she got out of here. She wasn't right in the head to continue with this job.

"I've been an idiot," he told her.

You're damn right.

An idiot she could imagine herself falling in love with in another situation, but an idiot nonetheless.

"You should put on more of a fight, and…" he trailed off.

And you should be rough, you dumdum, she thought. Again, in another situation, she would've probably loved him to be rough.

"Roger," she said to him and heard him chuckle, saw how a few wrinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes. He lowered her down to the ground, and she hissed when her arms extended against the rope again. He let her go, gently, like it was his fault that she was attached to the roof.

"I would help you, but -"

"It's ok." She gave him a weighted look that told him to stop speaking. To get on with the action so that she wouldn't get attached even more than she already was.

He grabbed her by the throat again, doing a shitty job at trying to make it look like he was manhandling her. His eyes landed on her chest, and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, thinking about whether he should tear her top. Apparently deciding against it, he went for his trousers instead, pulling the belt buckle open with a click.

It had been a while, what with all the stress and the sleep deprivation not being an ideal combo to get her juices flowing. But nothing could prepare her for the surge of wet heat when the front of those light brown pants practically gave way for what must’ve been the largest bulge she had ever seen. It was almost vulgar, even more so when the fabric of his boxer shorts stretched at the sudden throb.

She realized her mouth was hanging slightly open, and she closed it carefully, but her lips parted again when he continued to shove both of those pants down. He didn’t even bother to take them off, and they were left somewhere mid-thigh, with belt buckle dangling in the air.

And God, he was huge.

It wouldn’t even stand up properly, even though there was no doubt that he had a full-on erection. It jerked between them like a threat, or a dare, but mostly it was just a long, thick, veined baulk that couldn’t support itself because it was just so goddamn big. He was uncut, but the foreskin had drawn back from the arousal, and the tip of his slit glistened with precum.

And he was flustered again, misinterpreting her stare as a sign of fear instead of awe.

"I promise I'll be quick," he whispered, and the first thing that her mind chirped back was Please don't. And not because it would probably be painful. But because she desperately wanted him to slide that monster in inch by inch and take his beautiful time with it.

"Uh-huh," she managed to say before the man codenamed King stretched his fingers toward her pants.

With trembling digits, he opened them and started tearing them down before realizing she could not spread her legs without him taking the pants off. And then he realized he couldn't take them off without taking her boots off.

So what happened was that her panties and pants were halfway down, and the Austrian hulk kneeled in front of her with his hooded face in level with her pussy. He turned his head to the side and leaned a bit on her thigh to unlace her boots, but she was pretty sure he did it mainly because he was embarrassed to look straight at her cunt.

She helped him as much as she could, raising her feet one by one for him to take the combat boots off. He tossed them somewhere to the side and tore her pants down, all the way down, and over her feet, leaving her in her tank top and socks.

He rose, his cock brushed her thigh, and she jerked like she had been scraped by some sharp object. It bounced at the contact, bumping against her again, sweeping a wet streak over her skin.

"Sorry," he mumbled like it was somehow worse than what he was about to do next. When he would shove… that thing inside her.

He picked her up again, almost in a hurry. Her heart was ramming against her ribcage and her mouth was dry as her feet left the ground. He was hard against her belly, flesh hot and throbbing and slick with precum that pushed out from the tip and left wet stains on her top.

This time she did raise her hands over his head and let the arms come down to rest on his shoulders. Her intuition told her she would soon need the support.

He moved her around like she was a doll, letting the erection drop between them to position himself against her slit. Her folds parted without effort as he slid against them, once, twice, before halting.

Don't comment about it, don't…

"You're wet," he grunted with delighted surprise.

"Yeah?" She said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Just fucking do it, she yelled in her mind, lips drawn into a straight line so that even a dumbass like he could see that this was not the moment for hesitation.

And he didn't hesitate.

He searched, adjusted himself, adjusted her, spread his stance, grunted…

And it was pretty clear by now that he didn't know what he was doing. Her nipples brushed against his chest as he searched for the right spot with her in his arms, and she hoped he would've taken his shirt off so she could feel skin instead of cotton.

"There," she helped him with a whisper as he hit the right spot. He returned, probed, and she guided him. "Now up…", and he bent his knees while raising her slightly. The angle was right, and he finally drove in, slowly but surely.

The stretch was phenomenal. It hurt more than a bit after he had passed the entrance, and the delicious feeling turned into a burning sensation.

"Wait.." she begged, and he stopped immediately, panting like a runner.

"Back up a bit."

He did, pulling out almost completely before she bucked her hips to let him know he could push back in. And when he did, she gasped, and he moaned, so tight and so glorious that the sound that erupted from him was laced with pure need.

"Ach, you're tight.. soft…"

She clenched around him at his shameless commentary, and he let out another broken sigh.

Of course it's tight when you're so big..

He wouldn't go fully in, and she doubted whether he ever even could. She had never been this filled. But more was coming.

He withdrew again before thrusting back inside, deeper still.

"Oh Jesus," she gasped, "yes, just like that.." the words escaped her lips and she noticed his eyes were directed at her, drunk and half-lidded.

"Yeah…" he echoed, his voice shivering like a leaf. "Das gut?"

If her hands were free, she would've torn that hood away, buried her fingers in his hair, and pulled until he would expose his fucking throat for her to kiss and lick.

He began thrusting with a steady pace, shallow but intense, going deeper every now and then when he slipped. His hands shifted, one by one, to grab her by her butt to glide her up and down his length. It was fucking hot that he didn't need his hips to fuck her, that he could just move her around with his hands and slam her against it if he wanted to. Her ankles hooked around his waist on reflex, and her fingers flexed in the ties, trying to grasp onto something but finding only air.

"You feel so good," the short, agonized 'good' coming out more like 'gut'; and her pussy tightened, pulled, and sucked him like he was the best thing ever.

"Sch…shit," he breathed laboriously, taking a moment and thrusting even deeper, eyes closing like he was on the brink of losing consciousness..

He hit a spot that was both familiar and unfamiliar, and she was pretty sure that if someone was looking at the surveillance material, they couldn't tell whether the look on her face was of pain or pleasure. She couldn't keep herself in check, couldn't seize control anymore. She was so soaked at this point that the evidence of her arousal was heavy and loud. So audible that it made her cheeks hot.

"I wonder what you taste like," he mused, his hood shaking in sync with his thrusts. "Honey and raindrops, eh?"

"Mh," she sobbed, her thighs quivering. She wanted to spread them more, to let him see her and have a taste, to present herself for him to do as he pleased. But she couldn't move much in his grasp. It was like she had been propped up on a machine, buckled to a seat reserved just for her.

He took a wider stance as if hearing her thoughts on wanting even more of what he had to offer, and she held on to him as he shifted like the continental plates beneath her. He proceeded to fuck her while leaning his head against the side of hers, and she held on to him as he breathed into her neck. The occasional moan sounded more like a sob as his cock slid in and out, in and out, slick with her wetness.

"You're what they sing about in Rheingold," he kept talking that romantic bullshit in her ear while stuffing her with that long Austrian cock that would make most women squirt if he kept at it long enough. "Und Walküre…"

It was so good she wanted to cry. She thought about letting a tear or two slip and saying it was just for the show if he asked. Virgin or not, König was doing a pretty decent job in making her a writhing, weak mess. He was not too quick, not too slow, but set just the right, rigorous pace that would send her into oblivion. He became the fountain stone, the buoy in the storm. He was the man that would send her over the brink and the man to hold her unwaveringly as she fell.

"Not much longer," he informed her light-heartedly, like he was in the middle of a mission about to be completed. Completed to the fucking full.

She couldn't even begin to tell him that she was already there, because everything suddenly coiled and burst, and she was arching her back, making him reach even deeper, almost fully inside her, the heavy balls slapping against her ass as her toes curled and her body went completely rigid…

The sound that broke out was not a yell, nor a scream, it was a violation of her vocal cords. She had never sounded like this — like someone falling and meeting the ground with a strained, lewd groan. Like someone who had the orgasm of their life.

He startled, almost quailed from her. Not because of the screaming, nor the sounds she made after… but because she came, hard, while he was banging her like a battering ram.

"Genau so…" König rasped, taken aback but trying his all to cover it. He slowed down on instinct, letting her greedy pussy suck on him like it was giving him a blowjob, telling him he was a good, good boy… because her words had left her.

He moved a little, and she could see the flash of those eyes from within the darkness of the hood, knew that he was watching her intently as she swam in ecstasy with an open mouth and pinched nose and eyes that wouldn't focus.

"Schön," he continued, sounding fragile. Weak. Vulnerable…

She couldn't for the life of her look at him, look in those eyes that must've told her things she wasn't strong enough to deal with at the very moment.

Her head dropped and her thighs went slack, but König held her, steadfast like the most gallant knight. He resumed his earlier pace with caution and care, breathing distinctly with his mouth open under that black mask. She was limp in his arms, trying to hold on as best she could while listening how the cock drove into her again with moist, sloppy sounds.

The moans that followed didn’t suit a man of his build at all. She had expected brute strength and hoarse grunts, not pinched, needy sobs and a head softly pressed against her. Forehead against fucking forehead. And he probably didn't even know what it was doing to her because he was such a stupid, adorable little — ugh, big dumbass.

She wanted to grasp his shoulders, slide her hands under his mask and raise it, kiss those moans straight from his lips, and run her fingers all over his stubble, the chiseled jawline she had seen only once. She wanted to feel him, all of him, not just his hands and his cock, even though they were good. Or fucking best. It almost made her cry; the post-orgasm need to cuddle for a bit but not being able to do so because her hands were bound to the fucking ceiling of a fucking dull grey bunker.

"Can I… cum..?"

Was he asking her permission to…

"Can I cum inside… Please, I'm close," he panted.

"Yeah… Yes.."

He slowed down the pace as he drew out his own upcoming release, relishing the last thrusts like he was sampling the finest cuisine. She finally dared to look at him and saw that his eyes were open and full of naked, helpless adoration. Devotion, even.

She must have been imagining: they were only the eyes of a man who was about to nut good. But damn if that fevered, helpless stare didn’t succeed in touching her very soul. To her horror, he wasn't shy this time, but held her gaze, held it, held it — until his lashes fluttered and he went over the brink with a cry.

It echoed from the damp concrete walls, just a single, prolonged wail that eventually broke and ended in miserable panting.

She could feel his cock throbbing, shooting the load inside, emptying the whole magazine in her. How the seed welled up, unable to go anywhere before he would decide to pull out.

König laid his head on her shoulder and pulled her against him, and she was not suspended only in rope but in time and space as well. His shoulders moved up and down with the heavy breaths, and she pulled her tied hands to awkwardly brush his neck as he came down from heaven.

He was shaking. Shaking, and let out a whimper against her skin, and for a fleeting moment, she was sure he was crying or on the verge of doing so.

"König?"

He shuddered a sigh, taking a moment to himself.

She felt hollow. Not raped, not assaulted, not abused. Just hollow, knowing what had happened between them would not be a recurring thing. That there was no 'them', not really. Not in the real, actual world.

"You can let go of me now," she whispered, although that was the last thing she wanted him to do.

But he did as she proposed, lowering her down and sliding out of her only after her feet had met solid ground. He pulled out carefully, gently, like he was leaving his beloved. Warm fluid descended down her left thigh in a streak, indicating that it had been a while for him.

Her head was full of dumb thoughts, such as whether he had a girl waiting for him somewhere back home. In Germany perhaps — no, in Austria. And if he had, just how lucky that person was.

She wondered if he had found someone here, and if they were in the military or not.

She wondered if there was no one, if he was alone, and if he curled up in a fetal position every night before he fell asleep in some bed that was too small for him.

And whether he would get into trouble for violating orders.

"You were," he started, eyes directed to the ground, "magnificent."

Was I your first, King?

"You weren't that bad yourself," she complimented him back, and he huffed.

"You liked it?" He asked in a way that made her heart squeeze tightly in her chest.

"Wasn't it obvious?" She couldn't help but smile. Couldn't… Wouldn't.

"Ja," he chuckled while looking down at his boots with an interest that was totally born from shyness. "I'm glad I could please you," he said before tucking himself demurely back into his trousers.

She wondered if he was as aware as she was of the fact that neither of them had played out the part they were supposed to. It had all gone out the window the moment he had touched her again. Practically thrown out, as if they were defying death itself together.

He gathered her boots and helped her step first inside her panties and then the cargo pants. He had to go around her back and reach from behind to zip her up and put her belt on, and it was such a mundane, cute act that she thought that this was indeed the cruelest form of torture she had ever witnessed. He hovered over her after he was done, and stole a brief caress of her waist before crouching to lace up her boots.

He rose, and came back in front of her, and the silence between them stretched to a short eternity. There were so many things she wanted to say, things he probably wanted to say, thoughts buzzing in both of their heads like bees as his seed cooled down on her thigh and made her pants stick to her skin here and there.

She thought about thanking him for being gentle, but what was she really thanking him for? Raping her tenderly? With the attentiveness and passion of a lover?

Was it rape if she had enjoyed it? If she had had one of the most powerful orgasms of her life?

He was… she had no words for him. The way he had unraveled her in mere minutes was shocking. Devastating, to say the least.

"I will find a way," he promised for the thousandth time. "I will not let them hurt you."

She nodded slowly, continued to do so while looking at him, her eyes welling with tears.

“Hey, kleine Süße, don't worry.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, soft and sweet. "I will be your Siegfried."

She didn't have the heart to remind him that both Siegfried and the valkyrie died in that story.

Part 2:

[minkyungseokie]

第一章| Getting the Job

warnings; age gap love(R: 23, S:39, T: 50), gxg, throuple, controversial age gaps, random German and Scottish pet names,

note; first chapter! Idk how many chapters this’ll have. I know it’ll include moodboards, smaus, blurbs, and specials that you guys can request!

note2; I don't really like Bianca, so she won't be appearing a lot in this series. I don't hate her, but I don't like her either. If you have an issue, don't complain, just stop reading ❤️

Taglist is open, but only for 19 more people

note3; I decided to give her cochlear implants because I want too. She’s deaf now

fc; imleslie(on a Chinese Instagram app called Xiaohongshu)

Come Talk to Me

Driven by Destiny Masterlist | Next

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Toto Masterlist |

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

Susie huffed, looking down at the sheer amount of paperwork she had on her desk. She wanted to grab a bite to eat, but she had so much to do and she needed a lot more help than what the employees around her can provide. She pulled out her phone and texted her husband, Toto, for some advice. She was a strong independent woman, but even strong independent women need a bit of advice from their spouses sometimes.

And what she got from him was beyond helpful.

A personal assistant.

She was going to hire a personal assistant to help her around the Academy. The list of requirements wasn't long, but it was specific and the requirements that were listed were important for the assistant to have or they wouldn't work well together. Susie typed out the application furiously, making sure that all her requirements were stated clearly and made sure that whoever was filling out the application knew what they were getting into. She made sure they knew what they would be doing, an estimate about the schedule, and what she expected of whoever applied.

Susie finished up and posted it to the F1 Academy website. She also made a Instagram post about it that was a joint post with the official F1 account and the FIA account. With a sigh and a satisfied smile, Susie closed her laptop and put it in her bag.

Now all she had to do was wait for the applications to roll in. She didn’t expect too many since a lot of people were only interested in watching F1 or were, since the fans were mostly men, protesting against the F1 Academy.

Y/n looked at the link that her sister, Rachel, had sent her. Y/n had told her that she needed a new job after finishing college and Rachel had sent her a bunch of applications to different jobs. They were all just random jobs she had found on the internet, which led to where she was now.

She was staring at an application to be a personal assistant to some billionaire's wife who was the leader of some academy for girls who like driving glorified go-karts. It paid more than any of the other jobs that Rachel had sent applications for. Y/n mumbled on her thumbnail, pondering whether she should aim high and apply for the PA job or should she just go for what she knows that she would be able to get.

Y/n was deep in thought when she was startled by the loud sound of her FaceTime ringtone, which happened to be one the songs from her brother's group. "Ah, shit!" Y/n yelled, nearly falling out of her chair, "Who the fuck?!" The dark haired girl growled, grabbing the phone off the table. "Hello?" Y/n answered, "Hey, Y/n. What are you up to?" The deep voice of her younger brother exited the phone as she set it up so he could see her.

"Ah, baby brother! How are you? Loving the new comeback." Y/n said, standing up to grab a bottle of water from her fridge. "I'm great. The comeback has been good so far. Have you heard the entire album?" Felix asked, "Yeah, of course." Y/n answered, sitting at the table once more. The two of them sat and talked about her brother's most recent comeback before the conversation turned to her.

"So, what've you been up to?" Felix asked, shoving what seemed like a chip into his mouth, "When did you get those?" Y/n questioned, pointing to the box of fried potato sticks. "Ah, Chan bright them to me a bit ago." Felix answered, shoving another one in his mouth, "Well, I was thinking..."

"Uh oh."

"Shut up, Lix. Anyway, I was thinking that now I finished University, I should get a new job. One that fits my expertise better, you know? So I asked Rach to help and she sent me some applications she found online..." Y/n said, looking at the open webpage. "Yeah?" Felix spoke, urging her to continue her words, "She sent me one for some F1 Academy. It pays well and I fit the requirements, but..."

"But what?" Felix urged, "I don't know what the F1 academy is and it's in Monaco." Y/n sighed. "Where's that?" Felix questioned, "It's, like, right beside Italy, I think." Y/n answered, "Okay, so what's the issue? It sounds like a good opportunity." Felix said. "I don't want to move away from our parents and sisters." Y/n set her head on her hand, using it as a way to keep her head up, "I don't think mum and dad would want you to hold back for them. Neither would Rachel and Olivia. They would want you to go. They wanted me to go." Felix spoke up.

"Felix, that's because it was your dream. Your dream was to be an idol, so of course they weren't going to hold you back from doing it." Y/n groaned. "Y/n it doesn't matter whether it's your dream or not. It's a better job opportunity for you until you're able to start modeling the way you want." Felix suggested.

Y/n thought about it. It would be nice to make money until she finds a modeling agency that wants to sign her because waiting around for something to happen won't make her any money. She needed to pay rent and keep herself fed, plus, from what she researched about Monaco, they did not collect personal income tax or capital gains taxes. There were no property taxes in Monaco, but rental properties were taxed at 1% of the annual rent plus other applicable charges.

Monaco sounded like a dream. She really didn't think that places like that existed, but knowing that she'd keep every penny of her hard earned money sealed the deal. Y/n applied for the PA position and closed her laptop, "Okay, now to wait." Y/n let out a breath as she looked around her house.

There was no way she wouldn’t be getting the job. She was once an extremely popular Formula Two driver before she ended up quitting. She had met the likes of so many old Formula One drivers who were excited to see her race alongside them when she was ready, but she unfortunately couldn’t continue due to her mother not having enough money for her to have a seat and unfortunately no sponsers wanted to sponsor her.

Y/n stood up and threw her water bottle away. She hadn’t kept up with Formula One since she had left Formula Two and she was kind of curious how her friends from karting and F2 were doing. They were obviously doing better than her since they refused to keep in contact with her, but it’s alright. She could barely remember anything about them anyway so it didn’t matter. It did when she was younger though.

After she left and they stopped talking to her, she felt like everything was falling apart for her. She was living in the UK at the time, but decided to come back to Australia to be near her half siblings and step mother and start her career in modeling or something in the industry. Of course, her plans to model next to the likes of the Hadid sisters or other popular models, had fallen through and she had only become famous as the half sister of Felix Yongbok Lee, the freckled cutie with a deep voice of the famous Korean pop group, Stray Kids.

Y/n pulled out her phone and ordered some food, hoping that it wasn't a bad decision to put in only one application for a job that might be out of reach for her. 

Oh well.

It had been a week since Y/n had sent in the application and she had been waiting for the call back. She was sitting on her couch, staring at the large flat screen TV that was playing a Sidemen Reacts video that popped up on her feed while shoveling hwachae* into her mouth when the sound of another song from her brother's band rang through the air. Y/n picked up her phone with the spoon hanging from her lips and looked at the screen.

It was an unknown number. Y/n didn't usually answer the calls of numbers she didn't know, but something within her told her to answer it, so she did. After pausing the video, Y/n hit the green button on the screen and put the up to her ear, "Uh, hello?" Y/n answered, accent thick. "Uh, hello. Is this Miss Y/n L/n?" A sweet feminine voice that was paired with a Scottish accent, asked, "Uhm, yes. This is her. How may I help you?" Y/n asked, setting the bowl onto the table and sitting up straight. "Yes, this is about the application you put in for the PA position at the Formula One Academy." The woman said.

Y/n sat there for a hot minute before her eyes widened, "Oh! Yes, ma'am. What about it?" Y/n asked, "I wanted to call and let you know that we are interested in having you in the position, but first we need to schedule an interview. Is there a specific time that you're available?" The woman asked.

"Uh, I'm currently living in Australia and not moving to Monaco until a next month." Y/n said. Truthfully, she didn't want to being that up, but she knew that it would be suspicious if she scheduled the meeting so far away. She knew that the fact she was living in Australia could possibly ruin her chances of securing such a good job, but she just didn't have it in her to lie to the very sweet sounding woman.

"Okay, um, I'll be right back. Hang on tight." The lady said, "Okay, ma'am." Y/n said. Once the woman put her on hold, Y/n put the phone on speaker, muted herself, and continued to watch her video until she heard something from the woman on the other line. 

"Uh, hello?" The woman's voice spoke up. Y/n paused her video and quickly unmuted herself, "I'm here." Y/n spoke up. "Okay, so, we usually wouldn't do this, but we really think you'd be a good fit for the position, so I'll tell you what. Save this number. My name is Susie Wolff. Once you're moved into Monaco and finally settled down, give me a call." The woman, Susie, said. "Okay, thank you, Mrs. Wolff. I'll call you once I'm in Monaco." Y/n said, "Alright. See you then. Bye." Susie said before hanging up.

Y/n looked down at her phone with wide eyes before jumping up and onto her couch with a large smile, "I got it! I got it!" Y/n cheered loudly, jumping up and down as if she was a child on a super bouncy bed. "Holy shit, I have to let Felix know." Y/n said, jumping down from the couch and grabbing her phone, which fell out of her hand after she jumped up onto the couch. Instead of calling him, she texted him since she never knew his schedule.

누나- Noona? 아, 누구세요?- Oh? Who are you? 현진- Hyunjin 릭시에게 전화기 좀 주실래요?- Can you give Lixie the phone please

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎… ⋙

Y/n quickly went to the room that held the boxes that she would use to pack away her things and smiled. It was never too early to begin packing.

Susie cheered. She had finally found the person she was looking for after a week. She was super lucky that she had decided to continue searching through the online applications rather than giving up on looking at the mediocre applications and deciding to hold a hiring fair or something.

Not only was Y/n L/n the most perfect candidate for the PA position, but she had the most relaxing and attractive voice Susie had ever heard other than her husband's.

Susie cleared her throat and looked at the work she had on her computer. She had never been as excited as she was now other than the time when she found out she was pregnant, had Jack, and started the Academy. Okay, she had been this excited before, but this is different. She can tell that she was going to be good friends with Y/n and shoe couldn't wait to work with the younger woman.

This was going to be fun

↳ ❝ [Taglist] ¡!❞

@evie-119 @exotic-iris13 @alliwantisadonut @cheyxfu @xoscar03 @sunnylikesfrogs

[sadlilghostt]

BURN A MOTH

Characters : angel dust, alastor, vox, valentino x human reader.

๑ | synopsis : angel came back to the hotel with a beaten bruises on his face, once you saw this your heart dropped at the sight that you started bombarding him question which he refused to answer, but you kept pestering him. Once he finally admitted, oh dear Satan hell have never been more hotter than your rage.

๑ | tw : cursing, bit blood will be mentioned.

๑ | a/n : this is actually an adaption of the small comic I made, click here to see the art!

Master list | master list

Sipping your coffee as you him yourself a tune while reading the book in your hand as the hotels door slammed opened revealing your favorite spider demon.

Upon seeing his figure, your mood brightened seeing him as you dropped your book and skipped to the tall spider.

" Angeeeel! " you beamed, but after seeing his whole form stopped from you from pouncing on him as your felt your heart dropped.

Angel was covered in bruises and a busted lip and a black eye on his right eye.

" holy shit- angel, what happened to you?! " you scurried closer to him trying to reach for his cheeks but failed due to his height and leaning away.

" I'm fine toots, just got into a fight. " he murmured as he held your shoulders refraining you from jumping on him.

" nah nah, don't give me the "just" angge, you're literally a mess! " you huffed as your grabbed his hand and pulled him to the sofa. " sit. "

" toots- 's ok- I'm fi- " you cut him " sit. The. Fuck. Down. " that was enough for him to shut his mouth and flipped himself to the sofa.

He flinched when he felt your fingers into his busted lip, his other arms went to grab your waist while his other set of arm were on your shoulders and his other arm was on your wrists, stopping you from touching his face further.

" what the f- angel! Let me look! " you groaned as you climbed into the sofa in between his legs as you reached out to his face.

" 'm tellin' you! I'm fine! " he groaned as he pushes you away but you kept pushing yourself into him.

" fine?! Bitch- you're literally bleeding! "

" angel... Please? "

Angel groaned more as his grip from your waist and hand lessen finally giving you an access to him. Your hand softly touched his cheek with him flinching in the process, angels head turned away from you, away from your eyes. You could see tears swelling up into his eyes as your eyes scanned his injuries more.

Angel felt terrible, he felt worse, he felt... Dirty, he hated it.

He sighed deeply before turning to you.

"Satisfied? " he asked but stopped once he saw your dark expression.

".... Y/n?.. "

" angel.. I want the names. "

" huh? Why? - "

" names. Please. "

Angel sighed in defeat " fine.. It's my boss, valentino.. Don't know the fuck happened to that dick but that jerk suddenly barged in 'ta my room and started roughin' my shit up. " he groaned, at the story he just told you, everything around you gone blank as your vision started to go red.

"... Uh y/n?.."

Alastor was just in his room, playing soft songs to his radio while he enjoyed his venison when he heard footsteps outside of his door before his door was barged open.

His smile became strained as his brows knitted as he saw the certain spider demon out of breath in his door step.

" ever heard of knocking before or have you just loose your manners entirely. " alastor scowl but his smile still remains.

His antlers becomes larger as symbol starts to appear around him as the statics became loud.

" this better be very important or I'll have your head on my wall for disturbing my dinner like that and barging into my door without my permission. " he growled as his neck snapped side way.

Once angel finally catches his breath he raises his head to face the radio demon.

" i-its.. Pant it's the human! Fuck- hurry and get your ass out of here! "

The sound of the television bugging and short circuiting and crashes filled the bee's tower.

" OW- WHAT THE FUCK- HOW ARE YOU THIS POWEFUL?! " valentino screeched as he tried to fly away but only to be stabbed by a thrown butcher knife on his wings by you. " FUCK! " he cursed as he glanced at his pierced Wing trying to tug the butcher knife off of his wings, he glanced back at his fellow tv demon but his eyes we're blown wide only to see a hanger piercing into his screen. Val stopped from his movements when he saw your shoes.

He slowly tilted his head up to see you glaring at him with another butcher knife on your hand.

Before all of this chaos, the vee's were just peacefully doing their thing when screams and crashes echoes below their floor. When vox came to check it out, he saw his staff beaten up and then a human in the center of the room, walking towards his direction, vox tried to stop you but only to be shoved away by you. Vox didn't like that so the two of you fought for a moment before the moth overload finally came down and aw the two of you in each other's neck, once you saw the sight of him, your attention quickly changed to val. And then this happened, but with vox now laying on the floor with a hanger on his screen.

" I'm gonna fucking tear that shitty ass wings and give that shitty lookin cottond to nifty and make it my door mat and hang your head into my wall. " you grinned as you raised your butcher.

" might as well chop your dick off and feed it to the cannibal~well if you have one. " you giggled as you saw val paled.

Valentio screamed as you swung the butcher towards him only to be you pulled back.

" alright that's enough. " a familiar static voice called behind you.

Alastor held you by the back of your T-shirt as you still tried to advance to Val as he screams.

" AAAAAAAAAAAAAA "

" as entertaining this is but I cant have my little human wiping out the vee's just like that! Imagine! Getting killed by a mere human! " alastor humored as his eyes landed on a defeated vox.

" oh how pathetic! "

Angel was just behind alastor, his mouth was dropped open as he saw the massacre you made.

"... Holy shit.. "

[beanghostprincess]

Silly vampire buggy being so very normal about it while the rest are absolutely FERAL is so funny.

Buggy, before Roger passed, still on the Oro: hmm, I'm kinda thirsty-

Shanks, ripping his already open shirt further off: Oh Dear, Oh My Look At ALL THIS So Very BITEABLE SKIN, Sure Hope There's No VAMPIRES Thirsting Near Me, Wink Wink!!!!

Buggy: I bet Gabban still has some juice boxes. I hope he has that guava one. I'll be right back!

Shanks, half naked and drooping: 🥺😟😥😫

<><><><><><><><><>

Mihawk: I read this interesting novel yesterday which gave me much to ponder.

Buggy: oh? Awesome! Which was it?

Mihawk, side-eying Buggy pointedly: it was a supernatural romance between a human and vampire. It was rather explicit and had many scenes which piqued my interest.

Buggy, absolutely Not Getting It: oh man. I usually hate those. It's a toss up between bad writing or the vampire is always a top. Like? Give me gay bottom vampires too, we deserve to be recognized!! Oh, Hawky, can you hand me my sunscreen?

Mihawk: ........... here.

Buggy: thanks, love!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Crocodile: hey you drink blood.

Buggy, sipping A+ out of a care bear cup: yeah?

Croc: does it work on Logia users? Or would your fangs need Haki to pierce us?

Buggy: hm. Good question? I dunno, actually!

Crocodile: seems this could be a learning experience. Would be a shame to not experiment. I know how much you like your science.

Buggy: I do like science. Yeah. Yeah. You're right! I SHOULD experiment on that!!

Croc, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging down his cravat: uh huh, well, I suppose we ought to get to it- where are you going

Buggy: to my workshop! Science waits for no man!!! Nor clown, in my case. Man clown? Vampire? Who knows. Wait. Am I a man...? Hm, what is the gender today... wait, have I eaten at all? I don't remember. Anyway, I need to grab my suit, I'm low on sunscreen again. Oh, remind me to add that to the next shipment request. Oh, I should also grab a bloody mary!! That sounds great! Okay. Bye bye!!

Croc, halfway undressed, watching Buggy run outside, start swearing bc he didn't pull up his hood and is cursing the light, before tripping flat onto his face: ............. shit.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy rarely pushes the limits of his abilities BECAUSE of the vampirism. If he uses his DF more than usual, it makes him hungrier. And once he hits a certain point, he begins to lose his already loosey-goosey sense of humanity. It scares him to be so cold and uninterested, especially since he always feels things turned up to eleven. When his hits that point, EVERYTHING turns off. At best, he'll be mildly annoyed, angry, amused - but it's like being in a glass bowl, watching things happen from the outside. It terrifies him.

His partners...? Well. It does things to them too, but terror isn't exactly the dominating feeling... 👀

((Also, the romanticism of blood. Of life energy. Of an exchange of that out of love. Of giving parts of yourself to sustain and satiate another. Carrying pieces of someone else in your body to propagate your own life. Of giving and taking consensually the liquid which carries your time. The inherent provocative nature of taking someone else's essence into yourself with full permission and full understanding because they receive so much from you in turn that it is simple, easy, logical to consent to this.))

Vampires 🥰

THE FIRST ONE IS SO REAL EFJKBWEJKBWJEKBF Shanks does that constantly he's DYING for Buggy to bite him and the clown won't even notice he's trying so much. It's ridiculous. Shanks and his failguy moment simping for a vampire that doesn't want his blood.

Mihawk and Crocodile trying to flirt and failing miserably because Buggy is always oblivious to what they do is amazing and no matter the AU it's always like this. I adore. They just want their vampire boyfriend to bite them :(( Failguys.

The last thing you said is so real. Vampires can be something so romantic and I think usually books/TV shows/Media in general don't focus on the important stuff. I want to see teen!Shuggy with Buggy and Shanks traveling together right after the crew disbands (before Roger's death) and Buggy not having access to other types of blood. So Shanks offers him his blood and they have like-- This moment of realization of how intimate it is. And Buggy will forever remember what it felt like to feel Shanks' embrace while sucking his blood without any complaints. And!! Both Mihawk and Crocodile wanting to do the same but it's definitely just for the horny, they don't expect it to be so passionate and intimate, and romantic.

Also, I agree with Buggy, the vampire should be the bottom. Really necessary for this situation.

[strnilolo]

open arms

summary: open arms by sza, situationship with chris where he can’t get his shit together.

warnings: angst angst angst, use of ‘ma’, use of y/n, one curse word, two parts, lowercase intentional, not proof read.

an: i love this sm, part two coming soon.

||navigation , gotta let you go |

“i hate myself to make you stay.”

getting into this situation with chris, you knew what was to come. chris was always a situationship kind of guy, never one for labels. knowing that, you still allowed yourself to be fooled by the girlfriend treatment you were getting behind closed doors, ignoring the fact that you were completely hidden from everyone, including his brothers.

you and chris had been sneaking around for about 10 months now, way too long for anyone’s comfort. anytime you brought your situation or discomfort to chris, he would tell you that he doesn’t do labels, or he’s not ready for a relationship.

“cmon ma, you know i don’t do labels, let’s just keep this between us. you’re having fun, yeah?” chris grabs your hips from behind, pulling you flush against his chest.

“not now chris, i need to go home. i’ll talk to you later or something”

“oh come on y/n, don’t be like that, you know i’m not ready for a relationship”

“no chris, i don’t know that” you lash out at the man infront of you, infuriated. “we’ve been at this for ten months chris, you give me every aspect of girlfriend treatment , how could you not be ready” chris is silent, carefully watching your movements from his spot beside the bed.

“chris i don’t think you understand. i am so devoted to you, i have been for almost a year, and this is how you’re treating me.”

“y/n-” you cut him off.

“no, absolutely not. im not done. chris i’m tearing myself apart for you, why can’t you see it?” tears well up in your eyes, upset by his lack of emotion.

“come here” chris pulls you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“im sorry, i promise ill get my shit together, i’m just- it’s hard y/n.”

“i’m going to get it together. love you, ma”

you stand silently in his arms, accepting his apology for what you tell yourself is going to be the last time.

“please get it together chris, i can’t keep this up for much longer”

“i know, i know. i’ve got you. i need you, im going to make this work”

who needs self esteem anyway?

|| likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated :)||

ps i do not consent for my work to be translated or posted on any other site without my permission or credit

| 🏷️ @bananabread-nana @abbie13sworld |

[zyonsay]

Two for One LN4&OP81

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: You and Oscar decide to try out Lando

Warnings: Calling it suggestive is a far stretch, but yeah

Now playing: 'Popular' by the Weeknd

AN: loads of cuddling, i absolutely hate cuddling but i love the idea of it <3 Also this one is very short, but its the middle of the night in my country rn so im quite tired lol

Anyways, im gonna get fucked over by a Physics exam tomorrow, wish me luck!

Lando knew it was wrong to chat you up. But he just couldn’t resist that dress shirt with the top few buttons left open, or your sweet, longing eyes. He was grinding against you, enjoying the music, and taking another sip of his drink, when- Shit.

Oscar had his eyes set on Lando, while he was dancing with his boyfriend. The young brit almost started panicking, but before his nerves could go haywire, Oscar mischievously smiled over to him, then shot his boyfriend a knowing look. “He’s giving you permission, Lan”, you leaned backwards, pressing yourself further up against him. His perfume smelt incredible and laced your mind with a hazy feeling. Your words made Lando feel confident, as he left teasing kisses on your neck, locking eyes with a smug Oscar.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Aussie approaching you two. You snuck one of your hands onto Oscar’s chest. “Sorry to tell you mate, but we only come as two.���, you and your Boyfriend exchanged a quick look, before focusing on Lando.

“I’d rather have both than none.”

And that’s how you ended up in this situation, it was 4 am and you were all in Oscars hotel room. The moon shone brightly, and the light lingered in the room. The balcony door was open, and a certain curly-haired brit was leaning against the railing, enjoying the fresh air. You were awake, Lando’s shuffling had woken you up. With Oscars arm around you, pulled closely to his chest you couldn’t exactly move to see what Lando was up to.

Though shortly after, he made his way back to bed, he then noticed you facing him, while the Aussie behind you nuzzled into you. ‘Lay back down’, you whispered softly, smiling at the man standing by the edge of the bed. That was convincing enough for him, he’d do anything for your sweet voice.

You pouted lightly as he laid quite far away from you and Oscar. With a swift turn you kissed the tip of Oscar’s nose, before turning back to Lando, pulling him towards you. A gentle wind played through the curtains of your room; the balcony was still open.

Now his head was resting against your chest, while you played with his dark curls. He could hear your heartbeat and he could smell your sweet scent, mixed with Oscars and his own. Breaths falling into a calm melody, you drifted back to sleep, pulling the two men around you closer.

[pensat-i-fet]

Not a crush (Pedri x Reader)

**I got this request and thought it could be cute and fun. It’s true that the Spanish press has been talking about this arms situation a lot, so it’s a good blend of fiction and reality. But then it turned into one of those writing projects that changed 7 times before its final form. For a second I even thought about turning this into a series. My brain! Anyways, enjoy reading! ❤️**

ETA: I ended up writing a series based on this imagine that you can read here!

Word count: 2685

Masterlist

Wattpad

“All those years in uni to end up doing this”, you muttered. “I’m never going to be taken seriously”.

“What are you talking about?”

“This article I have to do”.

Your colleague Jordi moved his chair closer to yours to peek at your computer screen.

“You know that we can’t use the computers for personal stuff, right?”

You put your head on the table. Really, no one was going to take you seriously.

“Huh?”

“Why are you looking at photos of shirtless Pedri? Got a crush?”

“Shut up! I have to do an article about the evolution of his body in the last couple of years”.

“That’s cool”.

“It’s stupid!”

“I’ve done worse when I was an intern. Don’t be so negative”.

You guessed he was right. It could be a lot worse. And you didn’t have a crush but…there were worse ways to spend a Tuesday afternoon than looking at photos of a cute player. And being given an excuse to stare at his body, which had definitely changed in the last couple of years. You didn’t visit the gym much but liked it when others did. Especially if that was the result of their gym sessions.

Writing the article actually took a good chunk of your day. Between getting the right photos and videos for it and asking for permission to use them, the actual writing and your colleagues' stupid comments about it, it wasn't as easy as you thought it would be at first. But it was a good article. And once the editor saw it and was happy with it, it was posted on the newspaper's website.

The following day you posted a link to it on your social media accounts and a little later you started to go through the comments. So many of them talked about how you were only picked to do that article because it was about a man's body and you were a woman. Right…nothing new on Twitter.

“Stop replying to hate comments”.

“It’s therapeutical”.

"It's pointless".

Just one more…

                                      **

It wasn't just the press or people on social media talking about Pedri's muscles. His teammates loved to tease him joking about that too.

"Here comes the Spanish Lewandowski", laughed Eric.

"So funny".

"Please don't be mad at me. I'm afraid you'll use those big strong muscles to punish me".

Pedri did use his muscles to push his friend and get him out of the way. He knew it was just banter but it all got boring after a few days.

"There needs to be a big signing or something so your arms stop being the topic of the week", told him Ferrán, who was looking at his phone.

“Yeah, I saw Barça posting about it on social media too. People are so overdramatic”.

“Totally, but I didn't mean that. I meant the new article”.

"What new article?"

Ferrán showed him your article and Pedri sat down to read it properly. It was a great article. You took the time to analyze the way his game could be influenced by this body change and picked different photos than the ones used by everyone else. He guessed there were still proper journalists out there. What a plot twist.

"It's a good article", he said, giving the phone back to his friend.

"The internet seems to disagree".

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know if they disagree but the girl who wrote it was getting a lot of shit on social media".

"Why?", Pedri couldn't hide his frown.

"I didn't look much into it but I saw people saying nasty things to her and then they found some old tweets and …seems like she used to have a crush on you and now she writes about your muscles or whatever and people on Twitter are the way they always are".

"Right", he murmured. He had listened to everything his friend said but also got stuck on how you used to have a crush on him. And he didn't even know who you were but footballers…they just loved being loved.

                                     **

"No point in deleting them now", said Jordi.

"I wasn't going to…".

People had too much time on their hands. That was the conclusion of the day. Somehow, just because of your article, someone decided to check your entire Twitter history to see if there was anything they could accuse you of. They probably were mad to find no offensive tweets but they found two where you retweeted a Barça fan page and wrote about liking Pedri.

The funniest thing was you barely remembered those tweets. You saw him, thought he was cute and posted that. Then you moved on. There were many players you found cute but had no time for crushes. Pedri got a mention purely for the fact that he signed for your team.

But now this was being used against you. So childish.

"Are you busy next week?"

You looked up to see your boss talking to you. He never talked to you.

"I guess. I mean, I'll be here working. So…".

"Do you have a passport?"

"Yes".

"Your English was good, right?"

"Pretty good, yeah".

He only had to look at your CV to see all the qualifications you had, including all the diplomas that proved your English was more than good but…no one cared that much about an intern.

"You're going on the US tour", he said and left. How could he drop that bomb and leave?

Your jaw was on the floor and Jordi was staring at you with a similar expression.

"Wait!", you said, finally able to get up and follow your boss. "What do you mean I'm going on the US tour? There is a group of people chosen for that already. It was decided months ago".

"I know", he said casually. "But one of them can't go and you'll take his spot".

"But I'm just an intern".

"Do you not want to go?"

"I do! Of course I do!", you said quickly. "But it doesn't make sense".

"Look. You're doing really well here. And you've gotten people to visit our website more than ever with just one article so…you earned it".

You had heard about all the visits to the website after the Pedri article was posted. But the way your boss was avoiding holding eye contact told you everything you needed to know.

"Am I just going because people think I have a crush on one of the players that'll be there?"

"If you weren't a good journalist, that wouldn't be enough for me to send you with that team. But it doesn't hurt".

"Ok, I'll start packing".

This was a great opportunity and you weren't going to reject it just because of some of the reasons surrounding it. But the excitement you felt when you first heard about the trip completely vanished.

And when you checked your Instagram and saw a certain player was looking at your stories…it was even worse.

No one took you seriously but you'd prove them wrong.

                                     **

The pre-season was both loved and hated by players. Pedri didn't really have strong feelings about it. It was just part of the job and they got to visit some different places so there were positives to take from these couple of weeks.

Another positive was having you around. After finding out about your article and your past crush on him, he checked your social media accounts. There wasn't much on any of them, since they were professional accounts. But there were a couple of photos of you and your dog.

Stories were something you also used to mostly promote your work and it was while checking those he found out you were going to the US too. He was hoping you'd meet at some point but didn't expect you'd be the one to interview him.

"Hi, nice to meet you", you said, extending your hand for him to shake. So professional.

"Nice meeting you too. I really liked your article about me".

Something changed in your expression and he couldn't understand what it was but you quickly got back to professional mode.

"Thank you. Let's get this done quickly. I was told we only have 15 minutes".

The interview was pretty uneventful. You asked good questions and Pedri gave you good answers in return. But you were so serious. He didn't know you personally, so maybe that was how you always were. But Pedri had a feeling there was more to it.

"Was that good?"

"The interview? Yes, thank you for your answers. They were really good".

"Easy when the questions are good too".

You nodded, quickly looking away.

"Are you ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it seems like you would want to be anywhere but here".

You closed your eyes and sighed.

"Is it because of what people said about you?"

His words made you open your eyes and you finally looked at him. Instead of answering, you simply nodded.

"Don't pay attention to them".

"Easier said than done. Especially when they are the reason I'm here".

"The reason…".

"I'm not here because I'm good at my job. But because people thinking I have a crush on you got us a lot of attention. And now this interview will get more attention. So I'm basically just a pawn and I guess so are you".

"I'm sorry".

"It's not your fault".

Picking up your things, you got ready to leave but Pedri stopped you.

"I don't read what people write about me but my parents do. They like to keep the articles and print the photos and all that. Things parents do, I guess", he shrugged. "I read your article because Ferrán showed it to me and thought it was great. And then my parents told me about it, praising your writing multiple times. Your newspaper might be using you but you're good. You showed it to me in this interview too so don't feel sad".

"I don't have a crush on you".

"What?", but then he realised what you meant. "I didn't praise you because of that. God, you really need to get out of that mindset".

When Pedri started to laugh, you were more confused than ever.

"It's not you against the world. And people will praise you just because they genuinely want to…but now I'll be the one who's sad".

"Why?"

"I liked thinking you had a crush on me".

Now you were laughing too. Finally, he got to see the smile he had seen in those photos.

"Thank you for your words. I needed them. And you must go to train. I'll see you around".

"Yes".

The interview was posted just a couple of hours later. And even if Pedri's words helped, the comments you got still hurt.

Got what she wanted. To meet him.

"Yes, that's all I wanted in life. I can retire now".

"Why are you looking at your phone like it offended you?", asked one of your colleagues.

"It's the people inside it that offend me".

"Are there people living inside your phone?"

You half laughed at his bad joke.

"I know what you need to cheer up".

"Really?"

"Yes. Thoughts on karaoke?"

That made you laugh. You were such a terrible singer. "I like it. People don't like hearing me sing, though".

"I want to hear you sing so you're coming with us tonight".

                                   **

One of the easiest ways to get in trouble during pre-season was to go out and wake up to paparazzi photos of the party. But when it was the coach that took you out…then it was fine?

Pedri wasn't really into parties anyways but he thought karaoke night could be fun. He wasn't planning on signing but knew which teammates would. His phone was going to record all of it to tease them in the future.

"It started already", said Xavi, who was the first one to get inside the bar.

And he was right. There was someone leaving the stage while they found their tables. And someone else took the previous person's place immediately. Pedri wasn't interested in the random people who were going to sign but still looked up to see who was talking to the guy that controlled the machine.

And it was you who was on the stage.

"Well, that's a surprise", he said, almost to himself.

"What is?", Ferrán was now looking at the stage too. "Who is she? She's hot".

"The journalist who wrote about my muscles".

"The one that doesn't have a crush on you?", he laughed. "That's funnier now that I know she's pretty".

Pedri rolled his eyes and continued staring at you. He could see you were giggling and it was such a change from the super serious woman he met for the interview.

You picked a Franz Ferdinand song. They were one of your favourite bands when you were a teen and after seeing them live at the FIB, you were back to listening to all their songs on repeat.

Oh, when I woke up tonight, I said I’m

Going to make somebody love me

I’m going to make somebody love me

And now I know, now I know, now I know

I know that it’s you

You’re lucky, lucky, you’re so lucky

Your voice wasn’t great but who cared about that on karaoke night? Pedri didn’t. He just stared at you. You looked so relaxed. Just having fun instead of the worried version of you he got for his interview.

“Whoever she chooses would be lucky. She isn’t lying”.

Ferrán’s words took Pedri out of his daydreams. “What do you mean?”

“The song”.

“I’m not really paying attention to the lyrics. What do they mean?”

His teammate explained the meaning of the lyrics quickly and Pedri had to agree. Whoever you chose would be very lucky.

“I wouldn’t mind being the chosen one but you saw her first. Shame she doesn’t have a crush on you anymore, Pedrito”.

Yeah, it was a shame.

When you finished your song, you felt so much better. This had been the right plan to improve your mood. None of your colleagues wanted a drink, so you went to the bar to get one. It was needed after all that singing.

“I didn’t know you were a singer too?”

You turned to face Pedri and snorted. “Yes, it was my plan b if journalism didn’t work out”.

“There is always autotune to help”.

Pedri was pleased to see you laughing at his words. It was the second time in just one day he had achieved that.

“Do you want a drink too?”, you asked him when the bartender was taking your order.

“Just water, please”.

Once you got your drinks, none of you moved from the bar to go back to your friends. You just kept chatting.

“I mean, who knew writing about someone’s arms could lead to so much drama”.

Pedri followed your eyes which were now staring at his biceps. “Want to touch them?”

Yes. “No”.

“After reading the article I wondered if you knew more about my body than I do, you know? So it’s ok, you can touch”.

You bit your lip, trying not to blush. "I know you hear every day about how good you are at everything and that makes you overly confident but you aren’t as great at flirting as you might think".

"I heard about how great I am from you too. So you're at fault".

"I've barely written about you apart from that article".

"Yeah, but the old tweets…".

"I told you I don’t have a crush on you”.

“And the way you’re blushing says something different”.

When he leaned closer, you noticed how your knees were touching beneath the bar. They had been touching for a couple of minutes and you hadn’t even noticed. Nor did you feel the need to move.

“Not here”, you said.

“What?”

“Not where people can see us”.

“I thought you didn’t…”.

“I just want to test a theory”.

“What theory?”, he asked, smirking at you.

“If the crush I had on you two years ago is still there”.

[kaylinlmfao]

Dark ethan finding out you got pregnant and an abortion by reading a text mindy or tara sent you hoping your feeling better i think ethan would lose his shit

the abortion (1\3)

type of piece(s): imagine, oneshot, drabble, series

type(s) of writing: smut, angst, fluff, dark, suggestive

warning(s): swearing, mentions or abortion, mentions of sex, suggestive content, abuse, toxic and dark relationship dynamics

pairing(s): dom!ghostface!dark!toxic!ethan landry x shy!sub!reader

summary: after ethan finds out (y/n) aborted his child, he is furious

A/N: ohh my gosh I love this. thanks for requesting and keep requesting! (especially for dark ethan. im such a whore for him, Jesus)

I heard a short, quick knock on my dorm room door and I rushed to answer it, thinking it was tara and mindy to come hang and cheer me up. "hey tar-" I stopped abruptly seeing my boyfriend ethan standing there looking angry. "oh, hey ethan. what's going on? come in." I say, pushing the door open further and making way for him to walk in. "hi princess." he said, looking me up and down, his eyes dark and angry. it looked like he was looking more at my stomach. does he know? oh shit. but there's no way. mindy and tara are the only ones who know and they would never tell anyone without my permission.

"e, what's wrong?" I ask, scared. I love ethan but sometimes he gets violent and dark and I hate that. " you know exactly "what's wrong" " he says in a mocking tone. "no I don't. e?" he comes rushing at me, pinning me against the wall and gripping my throat tightly, almost to where I couldn't breathe. "don't fucking play stupid, bitch. this will go so much faster if you'll just tell the truth. hm, sweetheart?" I grab and try to scratch and pull his wrist off of my neck because I was starting to get lightheaded. "ethan" I choke out. "please" "please what? you want me to let go? you want to fucking breathe?" I struggle but I nod. "well guess what I fucking wanted? MY FUCKING BABY TO BREATHE" he yelled in my face as tears were streaming down my cheeks.

my knees buckle underneath me as I wane in and out of consciousness from the lack of air. ethan quickly let's go off my throat and lifts me back up, slamming me against the wall again. "eth-" I get cut off with a hard slap on my cheek and I let out a sob. "how do you know?" I breathe out gently. "think about when you left me alone with your phone."

last night

I sit on my bed, scrolling on tiktok when suddenly, ethan flops next to me. "hey gorgeous." "hi!" I say, giving him a quick kiss on the lips so he doesn't suspect anything. I stand and walk over to my closet as my phone dings with a message from the groupchat with tara and mindy.

"hey, y/n. how're you feeling?" tara's message reads.

"did the abortion go ok?" mindy asks.

"yeah, im fine. I feel alright except for feeling really guilty."

"it's ok, y/n. you did the right thing" tara says.

"you know that neither you or ethan are ready for a child. you wouldn't have been able to give it the life it deserves, y/n" mindy's message says

"yeah I know"

"how about we have a girls night tomorrow night? ice cream, popcorn, alcohol" tara voices

"and horror movie binges!" mindy adds

I smile widely and quickly type a fast response of yes as I hear ethan climb out of the bed. I grab a robe and walk out to my room. "im gonna take a shower ok?" I ask as I plug my phone up to my charger on my bed. "of course, pretty girl. you want me to come?" he asks and winks. I would say yes but I'm afraid that having sex might screw up the abortion. "no, it's ok." I smile and walk to the bathroom, closing and locking the door. I start the shower, strip, and climb in.

third persons pov

"she seems like she's hiding something. she's more distant. and she spent way to long in her closet just to get a robe" ethan thinks and glances toward her phone. he looks over at the bathroom to still hear the water running and quickly picks up her phone and types in the pass code. good thing he's snoopy and found out what it was. he opens her phone and the group chat with tara and mindy is still open. he scrolls up the night before and reads everything from the moment y/n told her friends that she was getting the abortion to the last text sent.

"yeah, let's do it! i'm gonna go hop in the shower. love you guys!"

all ethan sees is red. he was gonna kill her. he was gonna gut her from the inside out. she killed his child. he was fuming as he stood up, putting the phone exactly where it was before. he needed to leave before he hurt his little princess too bad to where she can't come back from it. he'll go take out his anger on someone else. he opens the door and slams it closed behind him, going to find his next victim.

now

the realization seeped into her slowly as she looks up at him with big eyes full of tears. he's much taller and bigger than she is. he could kill her. he could actually kill her and y/n is sure he'd get away with it. she listens to him breathe heavily and angrily full of fear. "ok. it's ok. I'm not mad anymore sweetheart, ok? we'll just keep trying until we make another one. and I won't let you kill it this time." he looks at you with dark eyes before throwing you over his shoulder and walking to your bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind him.

1.1k words (I got carried away)

hope you liked it! thanks for requesting and keep em coming! I'm open to write anything for anyone as long as they are over 18 and I know who they are. thanks! -kaylin ;)