Mine

The training facility of Bastard München was usually a place of sterile discipline and grueling physical labor. However, whenever Angel walked through the corridors, the atmosphere shifted from professional athlete focus to a thick, suffocating tension.

Today, she was wearing a pair of denim shorts so short they practically disappeared under her oversized vintage baby-tee, which she had knotted at the waist to show off her midriff. Her legs, though slender and delicate, seemed to go on forever, ending in white ruffled socks and sneakers. To Angel, she was just dressing for the heat of the afternoon. She often looked in the mirror and saw a girl who looked more like a middle-schooler than a woman—small, flat-chested, and bony. She assumed the stares she received were out of curiosity or perhaps judgment for her eccentric style.

"Hey, guys!" she chirped, waving a small hand at the group of elite athletes cooling down on the pitch.

The reaction was instantaneous. Ness tripped over his own feet, his eyes widening as he took in the curve of her hips. Grimm and Gesner stopped their conversation mid-sentence, their gazes traveling up her pale, smooth legs.

"Angel," Ness breathed, his face flushing a deep crimson. "You're... you're here early."

"I brought those protein snacks I promised," she said, tilting her head with a playful, fluttering blink of her lashes. She leaned over to set the bag on the bench, the movement causing her shorts to ride up even further. "Is Michael around? He didn't answer my text."

"He’s in the showers," Gesner said, stepping closer to her, his voice dropping an octave. "But you don't need to wait for him. Why don't you come with us to that new lounge tonight? I'll buy you whatever you want."

Angel giggled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, that's sweet, but I wouldn't want to bore you! I'm not exactly 'club material,' am I? I'm so tiny, I’d get lost in the crowd."

The men around her exchanged looks of sheer disbelief. She truly had no idea. To them, her small stature made her look like a piece of fine porcelain that they desperately wanted to break—or protect.

"You wouldn't get lost," Grimm muttered, stepping into her personal space. "I'd keep my eyes on you the whole time."

"Back off."

The voice was cold, sharp as a guillotine. Michael Kaiser walked onto the pitch, his hair damp and his blue-rose tattoo peeking out from the collar of his training shirt. He radiated an aura of absolute dominance that immediately made the other players recoil.

"Don't you have drills to finish?" Kaiser asked, his blue eyes icy as he scanned his teammates.

"We were just talking, Kaiser," Gesner grumbled, though he took a step back. "She's not your property."

Kaiser stepped between Angel and the group, his tall frame completely shielding her from their predatory gazes. "She is a guest of the club. Don't cross the line, or I'll make sure your next match is spent on the bench."

Once the others had scurried away, Kaiser turned to Angel. His expression softened, but his jaw remained tight. "You shouldn't wear those things around them. They're animals."

Angel pouted, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes. "What? My shorts? Michael, it's eighty degrees out. Besides, it's not like they're actually looking at me like *that*. They're just being friendly because I'm small and non-threatening."

Kaiser felt a vein throb in his temple. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to tell her that every man in this building had imagined her pinned under them. "You're delusional," he muttered, reaching out to flick her forehead gently.

"Speaking of friendly," Angel said, her tone turning uncharacteristically shy. "Benedikt asked me out for dinner tonight. Since you're always so busy with 'king' stuff, I thought... well, I said yes."

Kaiser froze. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees. "You said what?"

"A date! We're going to that Italian place by the river," she said, oblivious to the storm brewing in his eyes. "It'll be nice to finally go out with someone who doesn't treat me like a little sister."

"He doesn't treat you like a sister, Angel," Kaiser hissed, but she was already waving goodbye, heading toward the exit with a skip in her step.

***

The date was a disaster for Kaiser’s mental state. He spent three hours staring at his phone, imagining Gesner’s hands on her, imagining him leaning in to kiss her. By the time 11:00 PM rolled around, Kaiser was standing outside Angel’s apartment door. He didn't knock; he practically pounded.

When the door opened, Angel was already in her pajamas—a silk camisole and matching tap pants that left almost nothing to the imagination. Her eyes were wide.

"Michael? What are you doing here? It's late."

He pushed his way inside, slamming the door behind him. The scent of her perfume—vanilla and something sweet—filled his lungs, driving him to the edge of his patience.

"How was it?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Angel blinked, startled by his intensity. "It was... fine? Benedikt is nice. He tried to kiss me, but I felt a bit weird, so I told him I had a headache."

Kaiser felt a wave of dark satisfaction, but it wasn't enough. He walked toward her, forcing her to back up until her calves hit the edge of her sofa.

"You're so incredibly stupid," he whispered, looming over her. "You walk around in those clothes, looking like a literal invitation, and then you act surprised when men want to devour you."

"I told you, Michael, I'm not—"

"Shut up." He grabbed her waist, his large hands nearly meeting around her spine. "You think you're not enough? You think because you're small, you don't drive me insane? I’ve spent months keeping them away from you because I wanted to be the one to break you myself."

Angel’s breath hitched. The "cute and flirty" mask she usually wore shattered, replaced by a raw, heated realization. "You... you like me?"

"I'm obsessed with you," Kaiser corrected, his voice a growl.

He didn't wait for an answer. He crashed his lips against hers, a kiss that wasn't gentle or sweet. It was a claim. He tasted like mint and desperation. Angel moaned into his mouth, her small hands flying up to tangle in his blonde hair. She had always felt like a child around these giants, but the way Kaiser was looking at her now—with pure, unadulterated hunger—made her feel like the most powerful woman in the world.

Kaiser hoisted her up, her light frame lifting easily as he carried her toward the bedroom. He threw her onto the mattress, following her down before she could even catch her breath.

"Michael," she gasped, her face flushed.

"I’m going to make you forget anyone else ever looked at you," he promised.

He was rough, driven by a day’s worth of jealousy and months of repressed desire. He stripped her clothes away with trembling, impatient hands, his eyes devouring every inch of her pale skin. When he saw her completely bare, he let out a jagged breath. She was perfect—delicate, narrow, and trembling for him.

He didn't give her time to adjust. He wanted her to feel the full weight of his obsession. He entered her with a forceful thrust that made her back arch and a sharp cry escape her lips.

"Too much?" he grunted, his muscles bulging as he braced himself over her.

"No," she wheezed, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "More. Please, Michael."

The sex was frantic and primal. Kaiser moved with a rhythmic, punishing intensity, his hands pinning her wrists above her head. He wanted her to know she was his—not the team’s mascot, not a "cute" girl to be trifled with, but his possession. Every time she whimpered his name, it fueled him further.

He watched her face as she peaked, her eyes rolling back and her body shaking beneath him. She looked like a broken doll, exactly as he had imagined. The sight sent him over the edge. He let out a low, guttural growl, his grip on her wrists tightening as he delivered several deep, heavy lunges.

He didn't pull away. He didn't even think about it. He filled her completely, the heat of his release searing through her as he collapsed against her chest, his heart hammering against her ribs.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing. Kaiser buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

"Don't ever go on a date with another man again," he muttered against her skin, his voice possessive.

Angel, still dazed and tingling from the intensity of it all, reached up to stroke his hair. "I think... I think I can manage that."

Kaiser lifted his head, a smirk finally returning to his lips—the arrogant, confident smirk of a king who had secured his prize. "Good. Because if I see you in those shorts around the pitch tomorrow, I’m taking you right there in the dugout."

Angel giggled, though she knew he wasn't entirely joking. "I'll wear a tracksuit, then."

"Too late," Kaiser whispered, leaning down to bite her earlobe. "I already know what’s underneath."