#because if the leader leaves the mission

[sevplays]

THAT SAID

favorite Duviri build is to grab as many status effect causing decrees as possible, then chase it down with damage boosts - there’s at least one that boosts your own damage based on the number of npcs with status effects on them in your vicinity, and that combined with ‘melees hit twice’ means that eventually, you just start oneshotting enemies, at least on the Drifter side.

It’s very fun and makes solo play a lot easier than you’d expect, at least once you start GETTING decrees. Because admittedly, it can be a struggle in the beginning, when you’ve got like... none.

[benevolentvampire]

oh my fucking GOD im SOBBING

[tempo-takoyaki]

From an anonymous freeform prompt for SVSSS Action, may I present to you... Delicious in the Abyss! A SVSSS x DunMeshi AU!

More info about the different characters (with some sketches) under the "read more" :

In Delicious in the Abyss, we follow various groups of adventurers as they explore the "abyss" a mysterious place filled with various fauna and monsters. No matter their race or age, most of them have the same goal: becoming the master of the abyss... However, some have a very different idea of how one should explore the abyss. Take for example a certain group led by an elf named Shen Yuan who desires one thing only... eat as many different monsters as possible!

Shen Yuan's party :

Shen Yuan: Elf, 87 y/o, Mage. His wish is to eat and study as many monsters as possible. He started exploring the abyss about twenty years ago, but had to stop abruptly after taking in Luo Binghe. On the surface, his studies seem to merely be for the sake of curiosity... But are they?

Luo Binghe: Tiefling, 63 y/o, Tank (and cook). Thrown into the abyss at the age of 38 (since tieflings are a long-lived race, it means he was about 14), he got stuck in the lowest levels for few years before Shen Yuan saved him. He regards him as his savior (and one true love) and would do anything for him... even if it means cooking the monsters (he hates it, he hates it so much).

Shang Qinghua: Gnome, 87 y/o, Healer. Shen Yuan's oldest friend and the author of many infamous books. He stopped writing them about twenty years ago though, after he started to explore the abyss with Shen Yuan. He seems to be looking for something in the abyss, or rather: someone.

Liu Qingge: Tallman, 26 y/o, Swordsman. One of Shen Yuan's friends. He used to be part of the Cang Qiong guild but left it after a disagreement with one of his colleagues. Now he works for Shen Yuan with his younger sister, Liu Mingyan. "Uh? My goal? Get stronger. Mh."

Liu Mingyan: Tallman, 24 y/o, Swordswoman. Liu Qingge's younger sister, she accompanies him on each of his missions. She got an offer to work with Cang Qion mountain once but refused it once she learned her brother had left the guild. She's quiet but efficient, however, Shang Qinghua suspects that she might stick around for other reasons...

Cang Qiong Guild:

Yue Qingyuan: Tallman, 48 y/o, Tank. The leader of Cang Qiong, he's a respected individual amongst adventurers. However, he seems leniant on the vices of his vice-leader: Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu: Tallman, 40 y/o, Swordman. Vice-leader of Cang Qiong. He's the reason Cang Qiong is exclusively made of tallmen, as he has a strong distate for any other races, especially elves. The only exception to this rule is his adopted daughter: Ning Yingying, a dwarf. He's the one who abandoned Luo Binghe into the abyss after discovering his true nature.

Mu Qingfang: Tallman, 29 y/o, Healer. The group's medic.

Qi Qingqi: Tallman, 31 y/o, Swordswoman. She wanted to create a branch specifically for women in Cang Qiong Guild's but because of Shen Qingqiu's veto on recruiting other races she couldn't make it work.

Ming Fan: Tallman, 19 y/o, Mage. A cowardly young adventurer. He has a crush on Ning Yingying.

Ning Yingying: Dwarf, 51 y/o, Tank. Despite being older than him, she's Shen Qingqiu's adopted daughter whom he took in when she was merely 30 y/o. She likes her father a lot, however she can't forgive him for what he has done to Luo Binghe. (She'll leave Cang Qiong to join Shen Yuan's part at some point).

(Side note, Cang Qiong is still specialized in cultivation, hence why most of them look so young)

The Tieflings hideout:

Tieflings are a race that I made up for this AU specifically, inspired by D&D. They're inhabitant of the dungeon, tall and sturdy, with pointy ears akin to elves, horns of various shapes and tails. They can also use magic like elves, tallmen or gnomes, however their magic rely on its own set of rules.

Mobei-Jun: Tiefling, 92 y/o, King of the Northern tribe. Leader of one of the numerous tiefling tribes hidden in the abyss, he met Shang Qinghua twenty years ago in the abyss and has made him swear his loyalty to him since then. He has sensed change in the abyss since Luo Binghe's arrival, and decided to trust Shen Yuan's party to solve this issue... With the compensation of Shang Qinghua.

Sha Hualing: Half-ogre half-halfoot, 15 y/o, Princess of the Eastern tribe. Adopted daughter of the king of the eastern tribe, she's a bastard born from the forbidden union between an ogre and a half-foot and was abandoned into the abyss at birth. Of short stature, with a short life spawn, she makes up for it with her keen senses and her strength. She later on joins Shen Yuan's party.

The first Tieflings:

Tianlang-Jun: Tiefling, ??? y/o, Master of the Abyss. The master of the abyss, his powers are beyond anything imaginable. He claims to have eaten what has given him those powers and since then has known hunger beyond what any mortal could endure. He has once fell in love with a tallman woman by the name of Su Xiyan, but she has left the abyss years ago, and he doesn't know what her whereabouts are... The only thing he knows is that she's the only one capable of satisfying this hunger that eats him from the inside.

Zhuzhi-Lang: Beastman (snake), ??? y/o, Guardian of the abyss. Tasked by the Abyss' Master to protect its inhabitants, he'll kill anyone who gets in his ways indiscriminately at the exception of Shen Yuan, who saved him years ago when exploring the abyss for the first time. He only obeys the Abyss' Master orders, and because of that, has forced the Tieflings deeper and deeper into the abyss regardless of how they felt about it. As a chimera, he's more snake than the tiefling his soul has been mixed with.

Other groups:

Huan Hua's guild (the governor's guild): The one guild financed by the governor of the state in which the abyss is located. Its members are from various races. Despite the guild stating they're open to anyone, only those from a wealthy background can become a part of it.

Zhao Hua's guild: Specialized in magic. They have rounds to reanimate unlucky adventurers in the abyss.

Tian Yi's guild: Specialized in training new adventurers.

And that's it for now! What awaits them in the abyss? Many adventures and delicious cooking, that is, if Luo Binghe can handle it.

"Freed from the abyss at long last... Forced to cook the monsters with seasoning this time. I've been cursed there's no other way to explain it... Damn it, it's good though, I really am a great cook."

[gravegoer]

OMG sevika x reader who fills in for silco after he dies?? 🤍 but sevika is oddly shocked at her kindness—

Sevika's boss ꩜

i absolutely love this idea ! sevika pledging her loyalty to you whilst you pledge yours to her !! so this is how you met + how you treat her on the job.. and off (i fear silco didnt provide a safe work environment)

visit my masterlist HERE , part 2

Zaun needed a new leader, and you just so happened to be the second in line to the throne.

You had the option to throw Sevika out if you really wanted a different right hand man. But in your opinion, if she worked for SIlco; she would work for you.

You'd never met her before, only heard the things that Zaunites whispered about her on the street

" She took on three men at the last drop yesterday. I think Silco put her up to it. "

" The way she looked at me made me think I was going to meet my end. "

Silco was no gentle ruler, he was strong and fierce. You could only imagine how he treated his goons, and and only Gods know how he treated Sevika.

You sat in his office chair, displeased with the scattered papers on his desk and the old whiskey in a glass that now smelled rank.

You had called her in to have a chat, so that you knew who you were really working with. Not knowing what to expect; you watched as the door creaked open and you nervously drew in a quick breath.

In walked a tall woman, definitely over 6', obviously muscular with one prosthetic arm. Your eyes traveled up to her face, and now you knew why everyone talked about her gaze. It was steely and almost frightening. She looked you up and down with something in her eyes that you couldn't place. Her skin was littered with scars, the biggest one was smack dab across her cheek. How intimidating.

You spoke to her, firmly but gently, "As you know, I'm taking over for Silco until things can be.. sorted out-"

She cut you off with a brisk, "Get to the point."

You eyed her full lips as she said this, the gap between her teeth was more prominent when she spoke. Not to mention her husky voice, she sounded tired but with still a hint of determination.

"I'm not demoting you or anything, just so you know," you spoke while raising an eyebrow at her, "I just wanted to get to know you before I start ordering you around, y'know?"

She narrowed her eyes at this statement. Its obvious she expected you to immediately ask her to do things for you the way she did for her former boss. Always running around the city cleaning up his mess, fighting his battles. But no. You weren't Silco. There was something different in the air around you.

Now that you've officially met its time to put this girl to work !!

She was almost always available. This concerned you. If you asked for her presence she would be there within minutes. It was like she was waiting for you at the door 24/7.

This made you bring up off days to her, "You know, if you ever need time off or anything don't hesitate to ask me. I don't bite"

She was confused at your willingness to let her do nothing but sit around while you did the work. And even after you said this she never asked to be called off.

"Okay, you know what. If you're injured after a mission don't even think. About trying to leave your house," You called her in to run some errands but what she didn't tell you is that she got stabbed roughly in her side the night before.

This made her angry, did you think she was weak? You're making her take a break because she didn't do her job good enough for you? Trying to cut her pay by putting her out of work?

But no, surprisingly in the next few days you sent her out again, and when she came back you slid a hefty bag of coins her way. She questioned your ways but she wasn't complaining.

You tried never ask absurd or unnecessary things of her. If you needed to talk with someone in the city you would go down and do it yourself. She caught you out one day, talking to a shop owner about prices.

"Why the hell are you out without me."

You turned around to meet her eyes (also having to crain your neck to look up at her.) "Well, I don't need a body guard to walk around you know that right?" You said, tilting your head to the side.

She drug her hand over her face at this, "You could have asked me to do it for you, I'm free. Plus don't you know anyone could be trying to get at you? Are you an idiot?"

"I can handle myself Sevika. But if you're soo worried about me ill let you come next time," You teased before turning around to speak to the owner again.

She grumbled to herself before taking a seat in one of the old chairs behind you and crossing her arms. If you didn't know any better you would think a small embarrassed blush kissed her cheeks.

When you walked around in the streets with you she always walked behind you, looming over your shoulder. Sometimes you thought she would start barking if anyone came up to you. You slowed down a bit to match her pace before latching onto her arm.

Her body tensed at your touched and she looked down at you, though you didn't meet her gaze as you continued looking forward. The neon lights illuminating the angles of your face. She shook her head at your willingness to touch her, but didn't comment on it.

You felt the flex of her bicep when she tensed up at your fingers. Her arm was hot under your touch and you could feel the scars that littered her skin.

This became routine, when Sevika walked you home late at night she would get comfortable enough to drape her arm around your shoulder, her poncho sheltering you from the cold.

And yes, she started walking you home at night because she stayed in your office to keep you company whilst you did paperwork into the late hours. Saying, "Its the least I could do since you don't let me do it for you."

Lighting a cigarillo she sat on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. The smoke wafted from her position to your nose, the smell oddly comforting.

When you groaned and dropped your head into your hands it was her queue to get up and pull your chair out from your desk.

"Its too late, you should get home."

Sometimes you'd fall asleep in at your desk, but this was no problem. Sevika would pick you up, gently as to not disturb you and carry you to your home. And she was careful to walk through quieter places in the city so that the hustle and bustle of people didn't wake you.

And yes she tucks you in.

If you really insisted on staying to do paperwork she would grumble a few curses but stay anyway.

You were starting to grow on her. Maybe being cuter than Silco gave you some brownie points.

thank you for reading ! if you sent an ask in the past few days, don't worry, I'm getting to them all :) I appreciate all the support !! ♡♡

[cloudystevie]

scary my god you're divine

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pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 3235

summary || he would do anything for you.

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex

author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.

Sometimes literally.

Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.

Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.

You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary. 

The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.

“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know. 

Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.

He doesn’t.

“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…” 

The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.

In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them. 

“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.

You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious. 

Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.

On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion. 

“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way. 

He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours. 

The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James. 

His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.

You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.

You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy. 

“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand. 

You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours. 

“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length. 

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine. 

Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.

If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.

Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”

Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits. 

“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.

He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul. 

His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive. 

A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself. 

A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents. 

“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, misogyny, loss of virginity, mentions of blood (heavy mentions), mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), anal play, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Even Captain America deserves a reward after an intense, grueling mission.

𝐀/𝐍: Here we go! 16.3k words. Written very quickly. Not edited so please be forgiving. Also I don't have much knowledge on Shield and all that, so yeah! Final warning to PLEASE read the warnings! Anyways, enjoy!

“The girl’s ready, Captain.”

Steve nods at the SHIELD agent tersely, “She’s in my room?”

“Yes, sir. And all your specifications have been followed.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

The agent bows his head before leaving the office, and Steve finds himself pacing. He often paced after gruelling missions, as if trying to get all the leftover adrenaline out. Tonight had been particularly challenging; a local university under threat from HYDRA. Thousands of screaming staff and students, the air painted with gunshots and screams of chaos. But Steve’s team had come to the rescue. Just like they always did.

His team all had different ways of dealing with it, the trauma and evil they saw every day. Clint had his family to go home to, and some middle-of-nowhere farmhouse that Steve would’ve found quaint if he’d given more of a fuck. Tony’s solution was alcohol – copious amounts of it. And maybe that would’ve been Steve’s fate too, stumbling out of a bar at three in the morning having no idea where he was, but of course, he had the serum to thank for avoiding him that. Natasha immersed herself in her friends, Sam partied a lot, Bruce locked himself up in his lab because God knew he was wrestling more demons than anyone else. Except maybe Bucky… But even Bucky had a girl to help him cope.

That left Steve. But Steve had this.

I deserve this. He thinks it to himself as he makes his way out of his office and down the hall toward the elevator. There are SHIELD agents scattered here and there, chattering mindlessly about the successful mission and how, thanks to the Avengers, there were no civilian deaths. But they all hush when they see him, parting like the Red Sea, their heads bowed in respect as he walks past them. The Captain. The hero. Their leader. He’s still in his suit, the shield still on his back and bloodied cuts decorating his face. Nevertheless, he’s the face of the Avengers. Everyone in this building looks up to him.

Everyone on the face of this Earth looks up to him.

And a few minutes later, when he gets off the elevator and to his private floor, walks over to his bedroom door and opens it, he finds a large pair of eyes looking up at him too.

You jump, the fear on your face so evident that Steve can almost smell it. Standing in the corner of his room as if you want to permeate through the wall or maybe disappear altogether. Your arms hug your body in a bid to hide it from whoever you thought was going to enter this room, but you seem to relax once you see that it’s him.

“C-Captain, it’s you! Oh, thank God!” Your shoulders sag in relief, although – much to Steve’s displeasure – you continue to cover your body with your arms, “I-I don’t know what happened, but there’s some bad people here, and they took me while I was being evacuated from the university, a-and they brought me here and they wouldn’t answer my questions and–”

Steve frowns as you drone on and on, talking about a mile a minute – a quality he doesn’t particularly care for in a woman. But his eyes drink you nevertheless. You look young – a college student, no doubt – but he finds he doesn’t mind that. In fact, it makes his cock harden, seeing how wide-eyed and naïve you look, a lot younger than him. A pretty face, and an attractive body too despite the fact that you seemed hell bent on hiding it from him.

“Put your arms down by your side.” He commands you, watching closely as you stop mid-sentence, your voice trailing off. He can tell you’re uncomfortable, confused, and probably tired out from fighting and arguing with his agents. But he knows already what’s going through your mind: that you’ll obey because it’s Captain America, and Captain America was a hero who always meant well. Hesitantly, slowly, your arms fall down to your sides.

Steve had very specific tastes, and his agents knew to follow his instructions to a tee. Which was why you stood before him, your body sheathed in the prettiest, most expensive vintage lingerie. All lacy and intricate, just how Steve liked it – white and silky, hugging your body like a second skin and accentuating your curves, making you look like half angel, half seductress. He’d long ago, in a different lifetime, pored over old pin-up magazines, just like any other boy his age would. He’d likened the white lingerie in the pictures to be what his innocent bride would wear the night he deflowered her. Back in the forties, back when he’d been a different man, a man who actually cared about trivial things like marriage and family. Years of war and fighting had beaten that out of him.

And yet, almost a century later, Steve still has a partiality for white, lacy lingerie.

After every mission (successful or not) SHIELD would bring him a girl in vintage lingerie. Always an unsuspecting girl who had no idea what she was being pulled into. They came in all sorts of varieties; crying, kicking, screaming, paralysed in fear when they realised the reason they were in his bedroom. But Steve deserved it, for every single sacrifice he’d made for his country, for the world – he deserved this one bit of pleasure. Bucky had his girl, Sam had his parties, Tony had his alcohol, Bruce had his lab… And Steve had this.

And it was the least you could do, the least all those girls before you could do, because hadn’t Steve saved you? Saved all of you? This was his payment. You were his reward.

“C-Captain?” He notices how you can’t help but stutter, and he finds it amusing despite the fact that he’s used to having this effect on women – especially immature college girls like you. You gesture down to your body, “Th-This isn’t how I was dressed – they put me in this, those bad guys! N-Now I don’t know where my clothes are, and, and…”

Once more, your voice trails off as Steve walks past you nonchalantly. He heads to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open so he can keep an eye on you lest you try to escape. Not that you’d get very far – this whole floor was his and every lock required his facial recognition to open. In the past, other girls had tried to escape, and sometimes Steve enjoyed the chase. But tonight, he felt tense. He’d wanted to capture all the HYDRA agents but two of them had escaped. To Steve, that was failure, and failure made him tense. Angry. Frustrated. He needed someone submissive, obedient, quiet…

“C-Captain, I’m gonna be okay, aren’t I?” You ask, voice high-pitched and shaky, and Steve almost smirks. He stands in front of the sink, surveying the scratches on his face. They’d heal overnight, and once more he’d be the perfect face of the Avengers. The face of America. The face of hope, the face of good. If only they knew what went on behind his eyes, the thoughts he thought, the darkness behind the façade.

He washes his hands, observing the blood as it swirls down the drain of the sink.

“Sir… Captain… Is there a way I could call my family? They’ll be worried about me, and those people took my phone so I don’t–”

“Get on the bed.”

“H-Huh?”

“Get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself.”

Steve’s voice is soft, levelled, yet commanding. And he knows you’ll listen. He’s been over this with so many of the other girls brought in for him as a post-mission reward. You still trust him, he can see it in your eyes. You know him as the superhero you see on TV, where he’s all clean-cut and politically correct as he commands the hearts of millions through his motivational speeches and actions. And by the looks of it, you’re so naïve that he knows you haven’t yet figured out what “get on the bed” truly infers to.

And so you do, gingerly settling down on the edge of his king-sized bed, shaking like a little leaf but he can tell that you’re trying to keep a brave face as you look up at him, determined to trust the super-soldier that the whole country trusted. And breaking that trust, breaking that spirit that shone in your innocent eyes, that was the sweet release he needed tonight, or any other night after each mission made him grow more disillusioned. Breaking your trust, breaking your body so all of this was worth it.

Sometimes, Steve wonders when exactly he had changed. He remembers how plucky and optimistic he used to be. A little bit sardonic, a little bit sarcastic, but he really did have a heart of gold – at least that’s what people told him. Even after they’d dug him out from that iceberg, he’d still been that same guy. But that was years ago, and each day he grew more disillusioned with what he preached, what he stood for. He could never settle, never feel like he fully belonged in the world he kept risking his life to save over and over again. Even Bucky, who’d gone through so much, had managed to find fulfilment through finding love.

Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think love exists.

What does exist is you… Sweet, quivering, innocent little you. The SHIELD agents know his tastes down to a tee, and physically, you’re everything he likes, everything he prefers. It’s nights like these when Steve really feels alive, when he snuffs out the innocence of some unsuspecting girl and reaps his reward for saving countless lives. He deserves this. God knows he deserves this.

“What’re you doing?” You whisper, eyes round as saucers as he reaches out to stroke your hair. He bristles slightly, annoyed by your persistant questions. You should know better – he was your superior after all. But you’d learn by the time the night was over, and so Steve resumes petting you, slipping his hand down to rub your cheek, feel your smooth skin under the rough callouses of his hand.

The same hand that had choked two or three HYDRA bastards to death earlier tonight.

“You will address me as Captain.” He says, dismantling his shield from his back and placing it on the floor against the bed. He follows your gaze, how your mouth drops open in awe despite how scared you are. His cock hardens, knowing you’re impressed by him. By his size, because he’s aware he looks even bigger in person than on the news – enough girls have told him that. And by the shield too, because it reflected his power, his status, everything that he supposedly stood for.

You clear your throat nervously, “S-Sorry, uh, Captain, I just, uh, I was wondering when you’d take me home,” you say the last few words quickly, as if you’re mouth’s dry and you’re rushing to get all your words out. “I n-need to get home, my parents will be worried about me, Captain, and I have homework–”

Steve almost snorts at that. Homework. You were even more innocent than he thought you were, if one of your biggest concerns was whether you’d get your homework done or not. And this naivete amuses him, enamours him, but most importantly, it gets him hard.

“You’ll be taken home tomorrow.” He informs you, his tone clipped and formal, clinical like a doctor informing his patient when they’d be discharged. He liked to keep it like that between him and his “rewards.” Steve didn’t believe in intimacy, and didn’t feel the need to waste kindness on you or any of the previous girls. He faked kindness and heroic optimism all day, it was only at night in the privacy of his quarters that he could shed all that away and allow his darkness to take over.

“T-Tomorrow? Why? Why not tonight? And why am I here, anyways? Everyone else was evacuated together!”

“Enough.” He says sternly, and you shrink back like a chastised child, or an injured puppy. He watches your lower lip as it juts out, and he wonders if you’ve done that on purpose as a way to appease him. He wouldn’t fall for it though, he was wise to women and all their cheap tricks they used to wrap weaker, lesser men around their fingers. Steve would never be one of those men. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”

Your lower lip quivers, “I don’t understand…”

He sits down next to you, acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. Leisurely, his eyes drink in your body now that he’s much closer to you. The bra pushes your breasts upwards so they spill out attractively over the creamy white lace of the lingerie, and he watches them rise up and down as you breathe heavily, probably trying to keep yourself from crying. He wishes you would cry – tears have always turned him on. But the night is young, and he knows he’ll see some tears soon, he always does.

“C-Captain, please, please help me! I’m so confused and I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know how I got into this outfit, I think they drugged me, and I’m scared, and I have homework, and I gotta go now, so pl– OW!”

Steve yanks you forward by your hair, till your face is inches from his, and he can practically smell your fear. Eyes as big as saucers look up at him, shining bright with unshed tears of both fear and pain. He loosens his grip slightly, despite the fact he isn’t holding you too tightly – but the serum gives him inhumane strength, and you’re just a weak little girl after all.

“Once again, I’m telling you not to speak without permission. Do not make me repeat myself one more time.”

You swallow harshly, bowing your head once he lets go of your hair. But your lips are now pressed tightly together, as if you’re hoping he’ll take you home if you shut up and listen. There’s still light in your eyes, you’re beginning to question him inwardly but you still trust him, Steve knows you do. And it’s not long now before he crushes that trust completely.

He sighs at your compliance, stroking your quivering bare arm, thrill shooting straight down to his cock because of how soft and smooth you are. He likes the juxtaposition between the two of you right now: you, so soft and small, so much younger than him, like a doll in your pretty lingerie that he’d picked out. And him, more than double your size, jaded with age that didn’t physically show, bloodied and scratched suit, rough hands, dark thoughts.

“C-Captain, I’m scared,” you whisper, and you really do look like you’re about to wet yourself, and it turns him on so much that he doesn’t even bristle at you speaking out of turn again.

“Good.” He murmurs, continuing to stroke you like you’re his little doll. There’s something about you, something so pure that he can’t really put his finger on. In the past, he’s been detached, unforgiving, often just throwing his “reward” on the bed, holding her head down against the mattress while he fucked the living daylights out of her. He would be detached and cold with you too, but this time he feels a peculiar need to savour you at the same time.

It's when he grabs your hand and places it on his hard crotch that you start crying in earnest, finally realising your fate.

“What’re you– No, please, not that! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, please–”

You try to snatch your hand back, but he holds it steadily in place. You’d never be a match for his strength, no matter how hard you tried – he had more brute power in his pinkie finger than you did in your whole body. And that turns him on even more.

“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he repeats, not even sure why he’s explaining anything to you, because he usually doesn’t speak to the girls brought for him at all, let alone reassure them. “Tomorrow, you’ll see your family but tonight, your body is mine and I’ll do with it what I please.”

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, but quickly you shake your head, blinking rapidly as if you’ve misheard him. “N-No, Captain, I don’t want to! Y-You can’t make me,” you look at him pleadingly, trying to tug your hand back but he holds it firmly against his covered cock, “You won’t make me, will you, Captain? Th-That’s wrong! An’ you’re a good man so you’d never do that!”

“Take it out.”

A different man would have perhaps consoled you, told you it would all be over soon, or maybe even made up an excuse to manipulate you into sleeping with him. A better man would’ve taken pity on you, given you your clothes back and taken you home. But Steve wasn’t like any of those men. All Steve was right now was impatient, and more than ready for his reward. I deserve it, he thinks once more to himself, before pressing your small hand down on his crotch meaningfully.

“Take my dick out.” He repeats sternly, and when you still don’t comply (probably because you’re frozen in shock and fear) Steve can’t help but quickly undo his fly before pushing your hand down his suit pants, letting out a hiss when he feels your dainty palm and fingers on his rock-hard flesh.

“No, no, no, please no,” you cry softly, rivulets of tears streaking your face, “This is wrong, Captain, please.”

He makes you wrap your hand around his cock, smirking to himself when your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around all the way. The serum had made him a lot bigger than average, and a lot thicker too. So much so that every time he had sex, no matter how much he stretched the girls out, there would always be blood. He’d grown to become turned on by the sight of it.

“I’ve seen you on TV,” you whisper desperately, and he knows you’re in that state of mind where you’re just so scared that you’ll say anything and everything, “I’ve seen how you are, a-and you’re supposed to be the good guy, Captain. Please, let me go, y-you’re a good man so please–”

“Shut up.” He says simply, making you take his dick out. That quietens you up for a second, and you gape at his huge dick as it slaps up against his abs which are still covered by the suit. He hasn’t had sex or jacked off in about a week now (missions, press conferences, community work and other bullshit had kept him busy) and his dick is almost angry hard, the veins so prominent as he throbs in your hand.

“Stroke it.” He instructs you.

You shake your head, hand limp around his hard cock, “You c-can’t, this is wrong.”

“Drop the coy act,” he orders you, feeling a surge of impatience when he’s tried to be level with you for so long, “I know what you kids watch these days on the internet, and all the vulgar movies on television. Now do what I fucking say, or else.”

You look both taken aback and hurt by his sharper tone, and immediately you’re shaking your head.

“N-No, Sir, please. I don’t watch any of that stuff, I’m not allowed to, okay? A-And this is wrong on so many levels, you’re meant to be a good guy!”

Steve finds his cock hardening even more when he hears how you’re not allowed to watch the vulgarity that’s become so normalised in the media now as compared to back in the day. Were you, perhaps, a girl with morals? Someone who was raised well? He had yet to run in to such a girl in the twenty-first century.

“I’ve seen you on the news,” you try again when he doesn’t speak, “you and the Avengers, you’ve saved c-countless people. You’ve won wars for us. I w-went to see you when you gave a talk at my school last year, the one about good versus evil. You’re an inspiration, Captain, you wouldn’t do this!”

You’re talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows you’re doing it to prolong time till your inevitable fate. He’s tortured enough men to know that goners loved to run their mouths. As for what you’re saying, it has zero effect on him. He didn’t believe in what he said, what he stood for – you could never use that to persuade him to take a higher road.

He starts moving your hand up and down on his dick, hissing again because of how pleasurable your dainty hand feels on his rock-hard length, not to mention how much it turns him on that you’re still trying to pull your hand away, looking anywhere but at his cock, embarrassment mixing with the bone-chilling fear on your face.

“Y-You’re not a good man!” you finally sob out, shaking from head to toe as realisation finally seeps through your head.

Your words bristle Steve for whatever reason. In the past, his “rewards” have often back-talked him, insulted him as if they thought their words would have any impact on him – which they never did. But seeing you, with your bright, optimistic eyes that clearly looked up to him up until this moment, hearing you call him a bad guy… It makes him feel defensive.

“I saved you.” He spits out, “HYDRA attacked your university and I saved you and all your little friends. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

You nod desperately, “I-I know, Captain, that’s why I don’t understand why you’re doing thi–”

“I deserve this.” He says simply, cutting you off. “I risk my life to save unthankful people like you, over and over again. Even a super soldier deserves payment, or at least an incentive to do what I do.”

Your jaw drops open, speechless and horrified. Steve couldn’t care less, and he feels another wave of impatience. Two weeks ago, he’d endured a similarly gruelling mission, and his reward had been waiting for him in his room. She’d been mouthy, of course, as most women of the twenty-first century were, but he’d fucked her and sent her packing within fifteen minutes. So why, on this particular occasion, was he sitting here making idle chit-chat with some dumb-witted college girl who was half his age?

He's always been quick, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, his rough fingers digging into your soft skin. He drags you into his lap, till you’re crying on top of him, your back to his chest. You struggle and flail against him, but it’s to no avail as he presses you down on top of his thigh, spreading your legs and locking them with his own.

“Stop struggling,” he orders you through gritted teeth, although he has to admit that having a weak girl like you fighting against him with all her might while he held you down with just his one arm was quite arousing, “It’ll be easier for you if you just stay still.”

“Please don’t, I-I’m not ready for this, I’ve never done this before, I–”

Steve snorts at that. He knows you’re young, but he also knows that girls in this century are promiscuous, and that’s putting it kindly. How many lies would you tell before you realised they’d all be in vain? He was goddamned Captain America, and he was going to have his way with you tonight no matter what came out of that pretty, pouty mouth of yours.

Grabbing your soft, bare thighs with his hands, he pushes them further apart, all while you cry and quiver in his arms like a wounded animal. Your white, lacy panties hide your pussy from his greedy, impatient gaze, and he wants nothing more than to rip your lingerie apart and ravage you to soothe the ache of his hard cock which is currently pressing against your back.

“Push your panties aside.” He commands, “and don’t even think about arguing with me. One more word of insubordination out of you, and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”

You’re sobbing and sobbing as you gingerly do what he says, and he licks his lips when he sees your bare pussy, trussed out for him as he holds your legs apart. He can’t help but press a finger on your bundle of nerves before swiping downwards over your slit. He frowns. You’re not wet. That simply won’t do.

Of course, he’s been in this situation before. Not often, because truthfully, women got wet the second they looked at him, turned on by his size, his power, his authority. But sometimes, like now, when one of his “rewards” was very scared and non-compliant, she wouldn’t be wet. Steve didn’t care, and he’d go in dry if he could except, with the sheer size of his dick, it just wasn’t physically possible. Often, he’d tell the SHIELD agents to prep his rewards before they were sent to his room – stretch their pussies out by whatever means (he didn’t care) so long as they were able to take his girth.

But you… Oh, he reckons he’ll have fun with stretching you out all by himself.

“Touch yourself.” He says into your ear, holding you in place tightly.

“I…I…I don’t know how, I don’t– I don’t do this, I’ve never done this, I–”

There’s something about your frightened demeanour that makes him realise that maybe you’re not lying after all. He raises a brow, “You’ve never touched yourself?”

“N-No, Sir – I mean Captain – I’m not allowed to. My parents are very conservative, Sir, I haven’t even had my first kiss. Please don’t make me do this!”

Steve didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder, but it does. So big and painfully hard, it presses against your back almost indecently as he licks his lips, now infinitely more interested in you. So you were a girl raised right in these godforsaken “modern” times. His mind conjures up different ways in which he could teach you, mould you, ruin you… He doesn’t remember the last time he had a virgin – it was probably back in the forties, back when women were pure and of good heart and good intentions.

Maybe tonight’s reward would be sweeter than any other.

He grabs your hand, pressing it against your petal-soft folds. He takes your pointer finger and slowly, gently, circles it around your clit. You fight against him but it only takes you a few seconds to realise that your efforts are completely futile. Steve does not care for what you want, not in the least. You’re his reward, and he deserves this.

He leaves your finger on your clit, shooting you a deathly look that conveys that you better keep circling it or else. His own eager fingers explore your core, slipping down to probe you, finding that not even one of his fingers fits inside your little fuckhole. In fact, he tries pushing his pinkie finger up inside but to no avail at all. Fuck. You weren’t lying – you were definitely a virgin. Another telltale sign is how it only takes a handful of seconds before your wetness begins to spread, and you whimper softly – probably at all the foreign sensations you’re feeling as Steve continues to probe your hole.

“Feels good, huh?” Steve hears himself say softly, and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering wasting words on you. He never spoke to any of his other rewards – they were only there for his pleasure, and may as well have been inanimate objects to him. Dolls brought in for him to use and then promptly taken away when he was done with them. But you? Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him.

“I-It won’t fit, Captain, please stop,” you cry softly when he tries to force his finger into you again. You’re adequately wet now, but your pussy continues to reject his finger, and he knows there’s no way you’ll be able to take his dick if he doesn’t stretch you out with his fingers first.

“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, throwing you aside on the bed and standing up quickly. He sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting your sweetness and shutting his eyes for a second to savour your taste. And then he shoots you a warning look, “Stay there.”

He smirks when you don’t move an inch – probably paralysed with fear – as he walks over to the dresser next to his bed. Rummaging through his drawers, he sorts past all the sex toys that some agent had probably stocked up inside. Steve didn’t have much use for them, as he considered himself too traditional for toys. But he can’t help but be turned on by the idea of using a large dildo on you, or stuffing your virgin ass with a cute plug. But for right now, he grabs the bottle of lube – it’s half empty because of how often he’s had to use it on his past partners. Since the serum, his dick was way too big to go in naturally, especially when it came to a sweet virgin like you.

Roughly, he pushes you down till your back is pressed against his king-sized mattress. He climbs on top of you, rolling his eyes at the fight left in you, how you flail and fight against him despite his body being more than twice your size. He uses his arm to hold you down, but truthfully, he could’ve done it with just his pinkie finger.

“Stay still,” he commands, pinning your limbs down flat against the bed. You resort to sniffling and crying silently, your wary eyes watching him as he spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. A sudden feral urge takes over him, and he rips your panties in half, the flimsy material landing gracefully on his sheets. Your bare pussy glistens up at him, now wet with your sweet cream despite how much you continue to cry. He can smell your sexy aroma; the scent of a virgin pussy and it goes straight to his dick.

With an animalistic snarl, he dips his head down between your legs. Using two fingers to spread your creamy petals, he lays his tongue flat against your quivering fuckhole. You scream in shock, body jerking underneath him but he doesn’t care. He grips your thighs, lifting your ass and lower back up off the bed, watching carnally as your wetness drips down to between your ass crack. He spreads your cheeks, smirking when you wail in surprise. He digs his eager tongue between your cheeks, probing your puckered, virgin ass before licking a straight line all the way back up to your pussy, ending with a harsh suck on your clit as he holds your hands at bay.

It’s come out of nowhere, this sudden need to taste you. Back in the forties; Steve had rather enjoyed going down on women. He knew he was skilled at giving head, he’d been told more than enough times. But he can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Never with any of his “rewards,” who were only ever good for fucking on their hands and knees like dogs. But you, you were different.

You wiggle, crying and begging him to let go of you but you may as well be a fly with how weak and inconsequential your pleas are to his ears. Instead, he laps at your baby cunt like he’s starved. Like a starved caveman, he spits down on your clit, wanting to make your pureness as messy as possible. He spreads his saliva all over your core with his fingers, marking you up with his DNA. He encases your now engorged bundle of nerves between his lips once more, giving it another hard suck but this time his teeth graze against it.

“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”

It’s when Steve finally forces his one finger inside you that you squirt, drenching his digit as your walls clamp down around it. And God-fucking-dammit, he can’t believe how tight you’re squeezing his one singular finger, how tight and sexy and soft you feel around it. How your slippery walls pulsate around his digit like you’ve never cum before in your life – which would explain how quickly you’ve come undone. Some of your wetness lands on his face, some of it on the sheets beneath you, and that’s when Steve realises he’s given a virgin her first orgasm.

He can’t help but smirk, his finger still lodged inside you, but not even halfway because you’re still so fucking tight.

“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop after all, sweetheart.” He says, not realising he’s used the pet-name on you until it’s already out of his mouth. He sets the lower half of your body back down on the bed, his finger still inside you.

You sniffle as your whole body shakes with the remnants of your orgasm, “P-Please,” you say faintly, and you can’t even raise your head to look down at him, “Please, can I go home now?”

Steve’s lip curls into a snarl, and he drives his finger inside you with renewed force, curving it upwards even when he feels resistance. You scream bloody murder, and he knows if your orgasm hadn’t sapped all your energy, you’d be flailing your legs again. But for now, he easily holds you down, feeling your soft walls encase his finger which is now up to the hilt inside you. That’s when he grabs the bottle of lube, squirting out a generous amount onto the rest of his fingers.

“N-No, Captain, please, I can’t take another one, I can’t, I can’t!” You plead, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Captain – Steve – please listen to me, please, look, I can’t take another finger, pl–”

His palm lands on your clit with a wet smacking sound, and you howl in pain, your pelvis lifting off the bed except he pins you back down with just one hand.

“Don’t fucking use my first name. You will address me as Captain. One more slip up and I won’t do you the favour of stretching you out.” His intense blue eyes meet your tear-filled ones, “And trust me, you want to be stretched out for when I fuck you.”

With gritted teeth and a cock that’s now painfully hard, he gets to work trying to stuff another finger into your pussy. His other hand grabs your hip in a bruising grip, and his fingers stroke your smooth, bouncy ass every so often like he can’t help it. You’re turning him on so fucking much; with your crying, how you’re begging him to stop, how weak and small you are, how fucking tight your pussy is. It makes Steve want to say something just so he can hear you speak in response, despite the fact that he’s never vocal during sex.

“Tell me, why is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me.”

You sniffle again, shooting him a pleading look that he doesn’t even bother acknowledging. He just looks at you with waiting eyes as he nonchalantly continues to force his second finger inside you. He wants to hear you say naughty things with your innocent little mouth, and talking would get you to fucking relax so he could penetrate you with his digits properly in order to stretch you out in preparation for his dick.

“I-I’ve never done this before…” you scrunch your eyes shut, but a quick slap to your thigh has you opening them again.

“You’ve never fingered yourself?”

“No!”

“Tell me why not.”

You bow your head, “I don’t know… I just… I never did, okay? I’ve never done any of it.”

A wicked thought crosses Steve’s mind, “Oh yeah? You’ve never done anything naughty, huh? You’re a good girl?” His second finger curves up to join the first, and your hips jerk forward as you suck in your breath. It makes him smile, and he slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and out of you, “You’ve never, say, humped your baby cunt against your pillow at night? Or your stuffed animals?”

The way you freeze and how your eyes widen is all the confirmation Steve needs. He chuckles darkly.

“So that’s the type of girl you are. Riding your pillow at night when you think no one’s watching, and you probably touch your body all over, too, don’t you?” Lightning quick, his other hand leaves your hip, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to your chest. Through the material of your bra, he makes you cup your breast like how he would, wanting to watch with dark eyes as you play with your tits, trying to imagine how hot you’d look doing just that all alone in the privacy of whatever girlish bedroom you had.

Steadily, he continues to finger you, pumping his digits in and out of your greedy, wet pussy, and it makes slurping sounds as it swallows his fingers in over and over again. And he observes you carefully, notices your wide eyes, the sweat on your brow, the way your lips are parted as your breathing shallows out. He even sees the slight buck of your hips, and he knows he has you where he wants you, hanging on to his every filthy word despite your mind screaming at you to continue resisting.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve mutters lowly, “I know that’s what all innocent little girls like you do when they think they’re alone. You play with your tits and you rub your cunt all over your pillow, till you’ve got it all wet and messy. All while you fantasise about a man like me fucking you, taking care of you, huh? I’m right, aren’t I?”

You’re full on panting now, as if his beguiling words have made you forget all about your resistance, and you rock your hips harder against his thick fingers, little pants and moans sneaking past your pouty lips as he watches you closely.

“And then you act like a good girl, and you lie to me and tell me you’ve never touched yourself. But you and I both know that’s not true. Not when you spend your nights alone in your bedroom riding your little pillow while mommy and daddy sleep in the next room, and then when you’re done, I bet you bring it up to your face, just so you can smell your own wetness, right?”

This time, he gives your ass a swift slap when you don’t reply, and you cry out in pain before squeezing your eyes shut.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe softly, so softly that he barely catches it. But it makes him grin wickedly all the same. He hasn’t had this much fun with a reward since God knows when. He never bothers speaking to the lowlife girls brought to him as post-mission rewards, let alone engaging in dirty talk with them as he was with you, hanging on to your every word because it makes his dick so fucking hard.

“Of course, I’m right,” he mutters, “Captain always knows. I know you’re a little slut in the making just like all the other college girls of this century. You bring your pillow up to your face and you smell your cunt on there, and you lick it too, don’t you? You taste yourself because you’re curious, and you don’t have a man like me to show you how it’s done.”

He slips his fingers out of your cunt, your walls automatically squeezing around them as if they want to keep him inside you. But his digits are dripping wet, and he brings them up to your face. He shoves them past your lips, and you protest but all it does is create vibrations around his fingers as he smears them inside your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he orders you, “suck on daddy’s fingers, don’t be shy.”

It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s just referred to himself as daddy. He hasn’t done that in a while – not since the forties, at least. Back then, it was quite common for women to call their man daddy, and Steve remembers enjoying it when he used to fuck the show girls during tours. But now? He usually stuck to being called “sir” or “captain” or just nothing at all. Because “daddy” was way too intimate, it suggested that he was going to take care of you. And he wasn’t going to take care of you – he was going to ruin you before you’d be taken away tomorrow.

And yet you look so sweet and cute as you suck on his fingers, too scared to fight back any more although your eyes blaze with objection, and tears stream down your face. He doesn’t think you’ll stop crying at all tonight, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that. Not when your pouty lips look so hot sucking yourself off his fingers.

“That’s right, get ‘em nice and wet,” he murmurs lowly, before deciding he misses the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his fingers – and he still has to stretch you out, too. He removes his digits from your mouth, watching as you gasp to breathe. He trails them down your front, down your chest, down your torso, all the way down to your clit. He gives it another smack, loving how you jerk upwards like you’re so damn sensitive.

He grabs a pillow, putting it underneath your ass so he has your cunt propped up and he can examine it better. Your cream is pouring out of you almost, dripping down to the pillow below you while you cry and pretend you don’t like it. But the signs are all there, he can even see how your pelvis shakes and humps upwards, because you need a man to fill you up no matter how much you protest.

“Tight little baby cunt,” he says softly as he spreads your pussy lips once more. You look so wet and slippery and yet he knows he needs to pour some more lube into your fuckhole, which he does. And then, without giving you much time to react, he shoves three of his fingers inside you, pushing harder and with more force when he’s met with any barrier.

“STOP, NO, PLEASE! STOP, CAPTAIN – TOO MUCH!” You scream so loudly that the walls seem to vibrate around the two of you.

“Shut up and take it,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes up at you before he focuses back on your gorgeous cunt, watching as your leaking hole finally swallows his three digits, “Look at this greedy little virgin pussy, so ready for my big dick to split her in half.”

You shake your head violently, crying and protesting, but it’s when you bat at his head that he sees red. How fucking dare you hit him? Just now, when he was thinking you’d been raised well, but clearly not if you didn’t think it was a problem to hit your superiors.

“You raise your hand at me again, and I’ll hit you back twice as hard.”

His menacing words make you freeze, and you whimper quietly in absolute fear as he continues to play with your pussy. He fingers you in earnest now, three of his digits stretching you out as he scissors you open, amused by the squelching sounds your cunt makes as it swallows his fingers over and over again.

“Apologise to me,” Steve demands, “say you will not raise your hand at your superior ever again.”

You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”

“Sorry, who?” He pinches your ass unforgivingly.

“Sorry, Captain! I won’t raise my hand at my superiors, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You squeal the last few words, your pitch going higher and higher as your hips begin to meet his thrusts. And bless your innocent fucking face, you look so confused by what’s happening. Your pussy’s jammed tight but he knows it must’ve started feeling good. All greedy little girls like you needed was a little push in the right direction.

Off their own accord, your thighs lock around his hand as you cum for a second time, your walls squeezing and pulsating against his fingers so fucking tightly as you mewl and cry above him. You’re absolutely gushing with wetness now, and the pillow below your ass is stained dark with your juices. For someone who kept claiming she didn’t want this, you sure were receptive to his touch.

Steve snatches his fingers out of you, smirking when you, despite everything, cry in protest at the loss of friction. He bets your pussy feels all gaping and empty now, because he knows how big and thick his fingers are. A normal-sized man would’ve had trouble stretching your virgin cunt out with his dick – Steve had had that same problem with just his fingers.

But he knows he’ll somehow manage to fit his cock inside you if he prepped you well enough. Or else he’d spend the whole night trying to. Often, with the women he’d slept with in the past, he’d be too impatient and couldn’t be bothered to prep them properly. Because of that, he’d only be able to fit half his dick inside them, and he’d grown used to fucking them like that, only because it was physically impossible to go any deeper. He won’t let that be the case tonight.

He climbs up your quivering body, and you look spent already after two orgasms, your eyes fluttering like you’re about to pass out. Steve can’t have that though, and he taps your cheek not so gently, hovering on top of you till you open your eyes and meet his gaze.

“Please, Captain,” you whisper faintly, “E-Enough, please. Can’t take any more.”

Steve ignores you. He’s grown distracted by your lips. How wet and warm and pouty they look, glistening with a mix of your salty tears, your cum and your saliva. Fuck. He never kissed any of his “rewards” before, it was too intimate and Steve didn’t do intimacy. But maybe…

He spits down on your face, his saliva landing on your cheek as you cringe. Fuck intimacy, Steve thinks, using his hand to smear his spit all over your face, till it’s shining with a mixture of both your bodily fluids. So messy yet so pretty…

“N-Never been kissed before!” you blurt out once more all of a sudden, as if you’ve read his mind. Your eyes plead up at him, a tiny bit of hope in your eyes as if you truly believe he’ll show you empathy and spare you, “P-Please, Sir. I’ve never been kissed, a-and I want it to be special…”

How cute. You were worried about him spoiling your first kiss as if he hadn’t just finger-fucked you to two orgasms in the span five minutes. Amused, he brings his thumb up to your mouth, stroking your pouty bottom lip gently.

“You don’t let the boys at your college kiss you?” He asks, again not fully understanding why he’s even bothering to talk to you, but he figures it’s simply because he finds it amusing.

“N-No, Captain.”

“Why not?”

“I’m t-too shy, and they’re not… they’re not interested in me,” you sound so shaky, peering up at him as if you expect him to just get off you now you’ve told him your sob story about wanting to save your first kiss to be something special.

Steve snorts. And just how fucking naïve could you be? You’re fucking delectable, he bets the lowlifes at your college creamed their pants thinking about you. Suddenly, he bristles at the thought of sending you back tomorrow, back to the dumb idiots you went to college with. But he shakes the thought out of his mind to focus solely on you.

“There’s nothing special about kissing,” he tells you, “Love, intimacy, saving yourself for that special someone – none of that’s real. The sooner you realise that, the better.”

He kisses you, cupping your cheeks with his hands so that you don’t move your face aside. At first, he’s rough, unforgiving, pressing his tongue into your mouth because you taste so sweet and he needs to get more. And then he slows down, registers your soft, quivering lips on his, how rigid they are as you don’t kiss him back. He snorts inwardly, not caring in the least. He’d kiss you all he wanted – he doesn’t care if you don’t respond.

Steve sighs into your mouth, so tuned in to your senses that he feels your breath hitch, and a tiny squeak sounds past your lips and straight into his. His thumbs, seemingly moving off their own accord, stroke your cheekbones, and he feels your body instinctively relax underneath his – probably because that’s the first and only gentle gesture you’ve felt from him this whole night.

Slowly, he sucks your bottom lip almost sweetly, as if lulling you into a false sense of security. You’re still too scared or shy to kiss him back, but that doesn’t make the kiss any less enjoyable for him. His tongue plays with yours coaxingly, because he can’t remember the last time he kissed a girl and liked it so much. And then he feels you give a tiny little kitten lick, as if you’re testing the waters as you move your tongue shyly against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick.

He pulls away slightly to watch your face, amused when he sees your eyes scrunched shut and your lips slightly pursed, as if awaiting another kiss. And that’s what he does, giving you one, two, three quick pecks that have you inhaling deeply, and your eyes open cautiously. But they flutter shut almost immediately when they find him staring back at you.

Steve goes in for another kiss, as if one wasn’t enough because suddenly it’s like he’s parched, and his raging hard on would have to wait a second longer. His dick is as hard as a metal rod, resting against your bare stomach as he makes out with you. One of his hands reach down to cup your breast, and he can feel your nipple, hard as glass, poke against his palm even through the material of the bra. You squeak into his mouth again, as if him touching and playing with your breast is making your body invertedly respond to him.

He can definitely feel you kissing him back now, even though it’s shy and periodic… Your tongue moving slowly against his for a few seconds before you remember you’re not supposed to be enjoying this and you freeze. And then you start again, your tongue timidly stroking against his once more. Then you stop again. Repeat. It makes him smirk against your lips, feeling a rumbling in his chest like he wants to chuckle in amusement.

He pulls away, examining how breathless and cute you look. And you gaze up at him with glassy, wet eyes, those perfect, pouty lips still slightly puckered, as if you’re asking for more. But he continues to just drink in every detail of your face and how you look a mix of scared and curious, afraid and confused.

“W-Was I bad?” you breathe, and your innocent face is begging for reassurance. He knows because little girls like you always want reassurance, are always seeking out the approval of men like him. And a part of him wants to tell you no, no you weren’t bad at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed kissing you. But he keeps his mouth shut, because it wasn’t his job to reassure you. And maybe he wants you to be a bit insecure; you’d work harder in pleasing him if you thought he didn’t like your kiss.

He’s still cupping your breast with one hand, and he suddenly feels a wave of irritation at the lacy material of your bra. Quick as a wink, he tears your bra apart, the two ripped pieces now lying on either side of you. A hungry growl emanates from him, and he feels like an animal, he really just wants to suck on your tits but his dick is growing impatient, and you’d probably pass out from fear and dread if he stretched this out any longer.

He reaches to grab a condom from where he stashes them in his bedside drawer. Protection was a must for him – who knew what kinds of diseases all these modern, promiscuous girls were carrying? And yet, his hand falters before he draws back completely, his mind clouding with thoughts of how sexy your soft pussy would feel around his dick if he fucked you raw. Yes. He had to fuck you raw, feel your tight virgin pussy around him as he ruined it. He deserved as much.

Instead, Steve grabs the lube once more, acutely aware of you watching him with eyes round as saucers as he squirts a generous amount of it on his dick. He looks back at you, lying deathly still underneath him, looking like you’ve seen a ghost. He wonders if your pussy’s still tingling from the two orgasms he’s just given you, and he absentmindedly pumps his dick at the thought. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before in his life, his dick so hard he feels he’ll blow his load right there and then.

He lines his cock up against your entrance, his hands holding your silky soft thighs apart. A part of him wishes you’d fight back just one more time, just so he could exert his dominance over you once more, just so it would highlight how weak and small you are. But you lay there, quivering in fear, definitely too scared to fight back, or too distracted by his dick he glides it up and down your wet slit in anticipation.

Suddenly, you grab his arm as if to stop him, and Steve narrows his eyes.

“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.

“Yes.”

You whimper, your grip on his arm tightening as another tear trickles down your cheek, and you look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Please, Captain, p-please could you… could you make it hurt less? Please?” You beg him so prettily, and he can’t help but focus on how your tears get caught in your lashes, and how you sniffle like a baby. “Please, I’m sc-scared, I– maybe if you were slow–?”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Steve says briskly, feeling impatient beyond belief, and yet a part of him wants to brush and collect your tears. “In fact, if I go in slowly, it’ll hurt more.” He wonders if he should say more, say anything at all to ease your discomfort. But he reasons that that’s not his job – he’s not a lovesick boyfriend who needs to worry about your feelings. This is for him. He deserves this.

You start crying softly once more, your whole body shaking. Steve tries to ignore it, focusing on your cunt instead. His dick is twitching with excitement, the tip an angry red as he brings it up against your fuckhole. He grits his teeth and pushes in, but he can’t. You’re too tight – and he’s way too big. He sighs in frustration.

“Stop being so tense.” He orders you, pouring another decent amount of lube all over his cock as well as your entrance. He’d scissored you open with three of his fingers, but it had been an extremely tight fit. And three of his fingers didn’t compare to the girth and thickness of his dick – not even the tip of it. He frowns down at you, “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”

A panicked look flits over your face as you look down at his dick, and he knows you’re intimidated by his size. But then you take a deep breath, close your eyes and he feels your body get less tense underneath him. He smirks.

He grabs his cock by the base and lines it up against your hole once more. You flinch away from him, your innocent, puppy dog eyes blinking up at him. He doesn’t give a fuck though, and with a lot more determination this time, he grits his teeth and forces his way inside you.

Your scream is earth-shattering. But it’s music to his ears.          

“NO, PLEASE, NO, TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT! TOO BIG!”

You thrash violently underneath him, limbs flailing before he pins them down. But for a handful of seconds, he can’t even really focus on you. Not when he’s finally basking in the glory of being inside your tight little snatch, and it feels almost euphoric. You feel so sexy around him, so hot and velvety, squeezing the life out of his fat cock. Well, he’s only got a bit more than his tip inside you, but it already feels fucking heavenly.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, trying to get a grip and not get too lost in the feeling of your gorgeous fucking pussy. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and yet he feels like his balls are about to blow with how fucking hot it feels being inside you like this.

“It hurts! T-Take it out, Captain! Please!” Your tiny hand grabs his forearm again, lips puckered so sweetly, even the grimace on your face looks beautiful. You’re beautiful when you’re in pain, and he’s addicted to the sight of it. For a split second, he imagines it’s his wedding night, and you’re his beautiful bride – sweet, innocent, beautiful bride and he’s just popped your cherry and now you’re his forever.

The thought makes him shudder, and he quickly pulls out (not that there’s much to pull out, since only his tip had entered you. You were crying and screaming just from being penetrated by only his tip, and this makes Steve smug, despite everything).

You’ve barely caught your breath when he drives his dick back inside you, and this time he really forces it in. Now that he’s got a taste of your warmth, he wants to be completely enveloped in it. His hands grab your hips tightly, forcing his fat cock inside you inch by inch. He doesn’t care if it takes all night, he was going to fully penetrate you if it was the last thing he did.

“Shhh, shut up and take it,” he orders you as you scream and protest. If any other one of his girls had screamed bloody murder the way you were doing right now, he would’ve smacked them unconscious. Not you though, and he doesn’t know why that is. “God fucking dammit, how is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“Y-You’re too big,” you answer, shaking your head over and over again, “th-this… this isn’t normal, Captain, y-you won’t fit! Please stop, something’s gonna break, I-I’m scared, I–”

He wants to break your pussy. He wants to break you.

“Shut up,” he snarls, before a thought occurs to him. Out of nowhere, he kisses you once more. Silencing your protests as his tongue works against yours, and he finds that he was already missing kissing you. God, you felt so good. Your warm, sexy lips against his and your warm, sexy pussy gripping his dick. God, fuck… So this is what great sex was, huh? Maybe he’d been fucking the wrong girls this whole time. Maybe he should’ve sought you out from the beginning – or someone like you. Someone young, innocent, unexperienced, delicate, fragile, a cry-baby. Just the complete opposite of him.

Despite everything, you kiss him back once more. Steve bets it’s because your girlish mind is trying to convince him (and yourself) that you’re a good kisser. He makes a mental note never to give you this reassurance – that way you’d just keep kissing him as if you had something to prove. Or at least that was the hope. Nevertheless, the kissing distracts you enough for him to still inside you (he’d only gotten less than a quarter of his huge dick in) and then he pulls out.

The third time he penetrates you, he does it with more force than ever before. And he bites your lip hard, grunting against you till he can taste your blood. That’s when he finally pushes more than halfway inside you, and he hears something rip from within. And you scream, you scream so fucking loudly and straight into his mouth, but he continues to kiss you, basking in the feeling of being inside you properly now. His dick feels so constricted inside your tight walls, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.

He breaks the kiss to look down into your eyes, and savour your reaction to being impaled by him, to being filled up by only half his length. But your head lolls to the side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You’ve passed out.

“What a fucking baby,” Steve hisses, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. “Can’t even take daddy’s dick inside this tight little snatch of yours without passing out, can you?” Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to pull out, he’s so obsessed with how good your pulsating pussy feels around his dick. But he knows he needs to draw back so he can thrust back in even deeper. He’s only got half his dick inside you now, but he’s determined to get in balls deep before the night is over.

“Wake the fuck up!” he commands, wanting you alert as he defiles you. He slaps your cheek lightly several times, to no avail. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water on his side table. He dips his fingers into the liquid before sprinkling the water over your face. He slaps your cheek again, harder this time, and it turns him on when he hits you, taps into his darkest, most masochistic desires that he keeps under wraps from even himself.

It's only when he pulls out and slams back into you that you suddenly rouse, and it takes you a nanosecond to start screaming again, panicking and flailing underneath him once more. But he’s not having it this time, and quickly plasters his palm over your mouth to silence you.

“Tell me... how does daddy’s dick feel?” He asks you darkly, and he can sense the sadistic smile on his face fuelled by the sheer power he has over you right now. “And I’ll backhand the fuck out of you if you start screaming again, so don’t even try it.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and focuses on pushing more into you, and you pant underneath him, silently sobbing and cringing in pain. And yet you swallow and look up at him bravely.

“I-It hurts!”

“Address me properly.”

“C-Captain, it hurts!”

He narrows his eyes, “No. I asked you how does daddy’s dick feel?”

Your jaw drops open, and it looks like you’ve momentarily forgotten that he’s currently trying to impale you with his huge dick. Your face has the audacity to look mortified, and he wonders how innocent you truly are.

“I can’t… I can’t call you… That’s wrong!” you sputter, looking almost – dare Steve think it – cute. With your wide eyes and indignant gaze and delicious pouty lips in the shape of an o. You seem to blurt out your next words without even thinking: “Y-You’re not my dad!”

Steve barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, but he straightens his face almost immediately, reaching up to grip your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Faced with your horror-struck reaction to calling him daddy, he now wants you to address him as that and nothing else.

“Listen, sweetheart. You may have noticed by now that you don’t get much of a say in what happens to you tonight,” he licks up your jawline before his lips brush against your mouth, and he speaks in a whisper, “Now answer my question. And address me properly. Or else.”

You look mortified, scrunching your eyes shut as you breath rapidly in and out. “It… It hurts…daddy.”

Steve feels like he’ll bust a nut right there and then. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. You’re so small and shy, so tiny and naïve and scared like a baby, and now you’re calling him daddy in that sexy, shaky voice of yours. Goddamn, what a sexy little slut you were. And he’d take care of you tonight, just like any daddy would. Oh… damn right he’d be your daddy tonight. God fucking dammit, you were such a little slut for calling him that!

With a renewed, carnal type of lust, Steve grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. You yelp as he folds you in half like a goddamned pretzel. And the juxtaposition, the visual of your naked body underneath him still in his bloodied suit from the mission – God, it turns him on so much. He presses another kiss to your lips, guiding you into making out with him, wanting you to get obsessed with the idea of kissing him. And then he pulls away, and looks you right in the eye.

“Now you can scream.”

“Huh?”

He slams into you so fucking hard, he’s sure you see stars. And if you were screaming loudly before, it’s nothing compared to now. His entire floor is sound-proofed, but he’s sure the people above and below can hear you. He’s pushed himself far deeper into you, so deep that he senses something rip inside you again. And you’re crying, your little fists pounding against his chest, and yet Steve grits his teeth and mutters, “take it, just fucking take it,” pushing into you bit by bit, inch by inch, so determined to finally get his cock all the way inside you. Pulling out a bit, then pushing in some more while your tight walls try to push him out but he’s so much fucking stronger than you.

A deep rumble emanates past his lips when he finally – fucking finally – bottoms out inside you, and he leans down to press his forehead over yours so he can savour the moment. You were his, completely, irrevocably, undeniably his. You whimper and cry underneath him but it’s music to his ears, your sweet reaction to him popping your cherry, completely snatching away your virginity and possessing it as his forever. He looks down to where you two meet, sees your pussy stretched out completely around his girthy dick, and it makes him want to spontaneously combust.

“You’re mine.” Steve breathes against your lips, and for the second time tonight, the image of you as his little bride flits through his mind. Yes, you’d make a very fitting bride for him. Small and submissive and innocent. And he’d never taken marriage seriously before now but… well, how could he give you up? When he’d taken your virginity and made you his? How could he possibly send you back to wherever you’d come from? The mere thought fills him with vitriolic rage. No. You were to stay with Steve, and you’d be his bride. His wife. His. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You don’t argue this time, or even hesitate. He knows he’s broken you when you look up at him, dazed expression on your face. “I’m – I’m yours, daddy.”

Fuck. And you’d gone and called him daddy again without him even having to prompt you. Yes. That more than sealed your fate. You would be his now. His girl. His wife. He’d keep you locked up in his room forever, the same reward that he’d look forward to coming home to after every mission.

“How does it feel to have your baby pussy split open on my cock, sweetheart?” He presses kisses down the nape of your neck, excitement rippling through him at his impulsive decision to make you his wife. The thrill of finding a bride as cute as you makes him want to kiss you even more, and he nips at your neck before reaching your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times. All while you look up at him with glassy, wet eyes and a pitiful expression mixed with something else.

“Please,” you breathe quietly against his lips, and with sapped energy you manage to grab a fistful of his suit, pulling it to get his attention, “Please, make it hurt less. Please.”

Steve smirks, pulling out of you and preparing to slam back in. But he grows distracted by the sight of his cock, completely coated scarlet with your blood. Your virgin blood. The pillow under your ass is stained with drops of dark crimson too, and he’s never seen anything like it. Fuck. He’d really done a number on you, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even begun fucking you yet.

I deserve this, he thinks to himself.

He slams into you again, the gasp dying in your mouth when he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look down at where you two meet. Your eyes grow wider, your mouth dropping open as you shake your head in disbelief at the sight of your pussy so stretched out to accommodate his girth.

“What’re those conservative parents of yours gonna think when they find out their good little girl just got her pussy ripped apart by a man twice her age?”

You swallow and shake your head, “I–I…”

“Answer me!”

“They’d be d-d-disappointed!” You cry out, ripping your gaze away from the sight of his dick penetrating your formerly virgin pussy, instead looking up at him instead, your mouth looking so deliciously pouty.

Steve smiles wickedly, “It’s a good thing you’re not their little girl anymore, huh? You’re mine now, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Th-They like you! They’re fans of you… They wouldn’t like this at all! OH MY GOD!” You gasp, and he has to hold you down to keep you from sliding upwards from the power of his thrusts. You cry out once more, “W-Was supposed to – ah! – wait till I was married…”

The mention of marriage has Steve imagining you as his little bride once more. He already owned your body, mind and soul – but the marriage certificate would make sure he owned you under the eyes of the law too. His kept woman you’d be, fluttering around his apartment like a bird in a gilded cage. Or maybe he’d move you into one of the suburban properties he owned, where he could come home to you and relieve all his tension and worries. Yes. It would be perfect. He’d make all the arrangements tomorrow…

For now, he focuses back on fucking you silly. Pulling out all the way, he rams his dick straight back into your cunt, and you let out a sound that’s a mix between a squeak and a moan. He looks down at you curiously.

“You like that? You like daddy’s big dick?” He grabs your hands, squeezing them tightly.

“T-Too big!” Your eyes flutter shut as if you’re about to pass out again. “C-Captain, please slow down! H-Hurts so bad!”

Steve bristles. Hadn’t he explicitly told you to call him daddy? After all, he’d be your daddy now. You wouldn’t be your father’s property after tonight. No, you were Steve’s. He was your daddy, and he’d take care of you because you’d soon become his bride. But he wouldn’t have an insolent, insubordinate wife who couldn’t take instructions well. That wouldn’t do at all.

He grunts, letting go of your hands and wrapping his fingers around your throat instead. You squeal in protest but it lands on deaf ears. His other hand presses down over your mouth once more.

“Shut up!” He snaps, “Stop squealing like a little bitch. It hurts but you’re just going to have to take it. And you better start calling me daddy, or else I’ll drag you back downstairs and fuck you in front of everyone.” He only means it as a threat, but he knows by the way your breath hitches that you’re innocent enough to believe him.

He removes his hand from your lips and taps you roughly on your cheek, “Tell me you understand.”

You nod, receiving a harder tap on your cheek and a menacing look.

“I-I understand, daddy, I – oh – oh my!”

He thrusts into you with such force, he knows you’re seeing stars. And it’s subtle, but Steve catches it. He catches the shift in your expression, this unfamiliar spark in your eye as if you don’t know what’s happening with your body. But Steve knows. Your body is finally starting to respond to his cruel ministrations – just like he knew you would. You were an innocent little baby but you were also a horny little slut who was enjoying getting fucked by a man like him.

“It’s starting to feel good, huh?” Steve whispers against your lips, imagining the different ways he’d take you for the rest of the night. Of course, you’d probably pass out again once he was done with this first round. But after that? Maybe he’d put you on top of him, bounce you up and down on his cock and get in even deeper that way. Or he’d make you suck his cock, or maybe he’d manhandle you till you were on his face, rubbing that sweet, gorgeous little baby cunt on his –

“I-I don’t understand!” You cry, and he feels you wiggle your hips subtly as if you’re trying to do it without him noticing, “Feels…feels…oh, oh god!” With abandon, your head lolls back and you rut your hips up against his dick, meeting his thrusts. Steve chuckles, a satisfied feeling spreading across his chest.

“All that crying and screaming, just for you to enjoy getting fucked by me,” Steve murmurs, brushing your hair off your face so he can gauge your expression better. You look so pitiful, biting your lip and looking up at him with wet eyes, humping up against his dick and your eyes reflecting the confusion you felt. “But don’t worry, all little girls like you love getting fucked by their daddy. It’s only natural, sweetheart.”

“D-Daddy, please,” you pant, and now your hands come up to grip a fistful of his suit, and he knows that you don’t even understand the pleasure you’re slowly starting to feel. And you’re gripping his cock so tight as he rams in and out of you, building up a steady pace now. He knows he’s found your g-spot and he’s pounding against it, but you have no fucking clue and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.

“Look at you, humping your baby pussy up against daddy’s dick,” Steve shakes his head as if he’s reprimanding you. He spits down on your face, wanting you even messier. His hand leaves your throat as he shoves two of his fingers past your lips, spreading them open and spitting again. His saliva lands on your tongue, “Swallow it, you nasty fucking slut. I knew I’d make you my little slut before the night was through. I said fucking swallow it. That’s right. Good girl.”

“Ah, ah, ah– tingles… I – daddy! P-Please, I don’t know what’s – AH!”

 Your breathless moans and nonsensical garbles are like music to his ears, but nothing compares to the way you clamp down on his cock when you suddenly squirt around it. The way you squeak and clutch him tightly, and he fucks you through your orgasm. Your very first orgasm while getting fucked, and it’s so fucking sexy the way your tight walls flutter around him. God, he could get used to this feeling – buried deep inside your wet, tight snatch every single night from here on out.

“Did daddy make you feel good?” He breathes, hips moving like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your pussy as he continues to fuck you.

You nod timidly, wiped out from your orgasm to say anything else. He smirks, watching your breasts bounce up and down as he fucks the living daylights out of you and you just lie there beneath him and take it. As if a part of you had understood that this was to be your job from here on out – his little fuckdoll, his little prize after God knows how many listless years of saving the world, saving people who he didn’t give a flying fuck about.

He’d won countless medals of honour, rewarding him for his bravery in serving his country, in saving his people. But you were his true prize, with your tight cunt that was his and his only. And how jealous every other man would be! He knew they already envied his physique, his fame, his authority. Now all those assholes would have another reason to envy him – because his little bride was the most innocent, most vulnerable, most beautiful girl they’d ever lay their eyes on. And it would be his bed in which you’d be, night after night, waiting with spread legs for him to fuck you.

Of course, he’d fuck other women if he so wanted to. Steve didn’t believe in love or monogamy. He believed in ownership, though. And he owned you, every part of you from your cunt to your soul. You wouldn’t even look at another man ever again, or else Steve would have you killed. And the thought of you with another man is what incenses him even more.

With a low growl, he pulls out of you. Your eyes shoot open, your mouth pausing mid-moan to look up at him desperately. Your cunt shamelessly humps the air, and he can’t believe what a little harlot you’ve turned into after your first taste of sex. He looks down at his blood-covered dick, grabbing it by the base. He lays his fat cock on your stomach, painting your smooth skin scarlet with your own virginal blood. The sight turns him on even more, and with another growl, he puts your legs down and flips you over on your stomach.

He grabs your ankle, dragging you to the foot of the bed while you squeak in protest and confusion. He gets off the bed, standing up to his full height as you cower beneath him, looking back at him over your shoulder warily, a trail of blood on the sheets from where he’d dragged you.

“Hands and knees,” he orders, “and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.”

This time, you do obey pretty quickly. Mustering up whatever energy you have left, you shakily get on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips just in time, keeping you upright before your body has a chance to collapse. Your legs are shaking and he knows your body can’t take much more. He doesn’t care, because he owns your body and you’ll take what he gives you.

“Nice ass,” he smirks, squeezing and kneading your ass cheeks liberally before giving your ass a hard smack that has your knees buckling. He hoists you back up by your hips, “Thank me for the compliment, sweetheart.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You answer almost at once, and Steve grins wolfishly. He’s broken you. He bets you’d do just about anything to please him now. He bets you’ve forgotten about your life back home, and all your tiny mind can think about now is your daddy and his big cock.

With a grunt, Steve pistons his fat cock inside you once more. And god, from this angle, with your gorgeous, perky ass right in his fucking face, he feels like he’s going to blow his load any second. You start moaning again, rocking your hips backwards, garbling “please” and “daddy” and other nonsense. Your ass bounces with each thrust, and Steve can’t help but slap it brutally hard, over and over again, wanting you even more bruised and bloody than you already are right now.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he asks, slapping and pinching your ass while he watches his dick disappear inside your sexy cunt over and over again, “you tried to act all innocent and cute, telling me you had fucking homework to do tonight, fuck!” He lifts your hips up off the bed to get a better angle, till he’s holding your entire lower body up in the air.  It gives him better leverage, since he’s so tall, and he fucks you on his dick like you were nothing more than a fleshlight.

“I – ah, daddy! – I d-do have h-h-homework – OH MY GOD!”

It just gets Steve even harder, hearing you be so innocent despite being held up and fucked like a dog. You’ve got your elbows propped on the mattress to keep you up, your legs flailing helplessly as he holds your hips in the air, ramming you repeatedly with his fat cock till he knows you’re seeing stars.

“Forget about your fucking homework from now on,” he spits out, grabbing your ass lewdly and jiggling it, fascinated by how it bounces so cutely. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that college of yours.”

“Wh-What?”

He doesn’t answer, and the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, the carnal sound of Steve staking his claim on you. With all his other rewards, he’d be done in about fifteen minutes. You, he’d have you all night if he could. Well, he can – he’s built like a fucking tank with stamina for days. You, on the other hand, keep looking like you’re going to pass out and he’s pretty sure he’s done some type of damage to your pussy. He’d have SHIELD’s physician check you tomorrow.

He throws you back down on the bed, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath before he’s on top of you, flipping you on your back and urgently pressing his lips to yours. Much to his smugness, this time you respond as if it’s muscle memory, kissing him back as best as you can. And for a person who’s just learnt how to kiss, you sure were extremely desperate for it. You keep kissing him even when he enters back into you for the third time, fucking you on your back and this time you wrap your arms and legs around him like a goddamned koala bear, your kisses growing more fervent till Steve pulls away and chuckles against your lips.

“You like kissing me?” He finds himself asking you, holding you in place beneath him as he fucks you hard, but his one hand comes up to grip your chin so you don’t look away, “be honest, baby. You like kissing daddy?”

Your eyes widen in fear at the direct question, and he watches the panic on your face. But then your features contort in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you, and you nod desperately, surging up to kiss him again but he pushes you back down.

“Use your words.”

“Ah, y-yes, I do, okay!? I like it! P-Please!”

You start doing that thing again, humping pathetically up into him as if to meet his thrusts. And he wonders if you realise how easy he’s truly going on you. He reckons he’s using about five percent of his power right now as he rams into you repeatedly. Any more than that and he’s sure he’d shatter your pelvis or cause permanent damage.

“Kiss me, then.” Steve says, not knowing why he sounds so gentle. He probably had something stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t dwell over it because, like a good little girl, you obey him. Your needy lips, your desperate tongue poking against his in a perfect kiss. He groans into your mouth, his thrusts going sloppy as your cunt squeezes around him because you’re so turned on by him kissing you.

“Am I… A-Am I doing this right, daddy?” You breathe, batting those fucking sexy, innocent eyes up at him.

Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”

You’re more than fine, of course – but he doesn’t need you knowing that. He needs you to be as insecure as possible. It made you even hotter, the look of self-doubt that you have on your face right now. He’s violated your body, he’s still violating your body, and yet all you seem to be focusing on is the fact that he thinks your kissing is “fine.” Not good, not great… but fine.

You kiss him once more, even more desperately this time, as if you’re trying to prove something. Steve relishes how easy it is to play with your mind, how naïve you are. How much he’ll enjoy playing with you when he makes you his wife. He continues pistoning his dick inside you as he lets his mind wander.

All the others would be so fucking jealous of him – even Bucky, who had a girl already but Bucky’s girl was nothing compared to you. He’d drag you around the whole building, the whole headquarters, the whole compound, showing you off like a shiny, new toy. That’s what you were – his very own toy.

He’d take you into meetings with him, make you sit on his lap and play with you in front of everyone. And he’d chop the dick off of anyone who looked at you in a way he didn’t like. He’d make you wear pretty dresses, make you look like a cute little housewife, train you to answer his every command. Fuck yeah, you’d be his reward. He deserved you, after all he had sacrificed for his country, for the world.

“D-Daddy, I’m feelin- tingly again!” you moan, your words shaky from how hard he’s fucking into you. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist and in return he clutches you harder, determined to make you squirt again before he had his own release.

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”

“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”

He swats your clit harshly, making you howl in what he knows is pleasure. His dick hammers in and out of you unforgivingly, and you’re such a fucking slut, humping up against him, crying for your release. And it’s such a far cry from how much you were resisting him at first, he can’t believe what a little slut he’s reduced you to in such little time.

“Stupid girl, can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he mocks, pinching your clit meanly, bullying it as he rubs it fiercely. Till you’re thrashing underneath him, so desperate to cum that you don’t even care that your body is betraying you. “Tell me you’re a stupid little girl!”

“Oh fuck! I’m a – a – a stupid little girl!”

He can see the remnants of your tears stained to your cheeks, and he feels a carnal level of possession within him. With a growl, he lewdly licks the side of your face, claiming his territory, tasting your salty tears. Roughly, he tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side and biting down on your neck. So hard that he draws blood, and then he licks that up too. God, what a little slut you were – a slut disguised as an angel and you were making him act like a motherfucking animal.

And now the side of your neck sported his bite mark, your porcelain perfect skin marred by his branding of you. And this was just the beginning – Steve already knows that he plans to mark you in many different ways. Tomorrow, he’d get one of the agents to bring over a tattoo artist to tattoo his initials somewhere on your body. Maybe right above your baby cunt, just so you would always remember who you belonged to. He smirks, and wonders what your conservative parents would think of that.

“What would your parents think now, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it over his shoulder for a better angle. And you’re so pliable, so easily going along with whatever he’s doing to you like a perfect little doll. “What would they think of their perfect little girl getting fucked by Captain America like it’s her fucking job?”

You panic, as if the mention of your parents is a reminder of how wrong this all is for you – not that Steve gives a fuck. Biting your lip to keep from moaning at all the sensations you’re feeling, you shake your head. Only for him to slap you not so lightly on the cheek.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

“They’d – ah – they’d hate this, they’d be upset, they’d – OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream out all of a sudden, your pussy walls gripping him like a vice, “O-Oh, I’m feelin– I gotta–”

“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.

But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. Babies like you couldn’t hold orgasms for shit. And you cum, crying for him and gripping him tightly, and Steve feels like he’s going to lose it with how sexy it feels. It feels like your cunt is trying to swallow him up, crying for his seed as it pulsates around his fat cock that continues to move in and out.

“Bad girl,” Steve chastises, giving you another not-so-gentle slap on the cheek because you look like you’re about to faint again. He jostles you with the forces of his dick, still ramming in and out of you at lightning speed. “You do things without permission a lot at home?”

You have the audacity to, despite everything, look indignant: “N-No, never, I never–”

“Then what made you think you could cum without your daddy’s permission?”

Your lips purse as if you’re about to cry, and you blink up at him so goddamned innocent. Steve’s honestly surprised he’s still going, surprised he hasn’t busted a fucking nut with how goddamned cute and sexy you are.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I couldn’t – ah! – I had to, I–I–”

“Give me another one,” he orders you darkly.

“Wh-What–”

“You heard me. Cum for daddy again. Since you like doing it so much.”

Frantically, you shake your head, “C-Can’t! Too much, daddy, it’s too much– O-O-HHH GOD!”

He reaches down to strum your clit before a dark thought crosses his mind. His fingers slip lower, gathering the wetness of your pussy along the way. Lower, between the cleft of your ass cheeks. He can’t resist giving one of your perky cheeks a hard smack, before going straight for your puckered hole. He circles it with his thumb and your body stiffens in shock and horror.

“N-No, daddy, no please, that’s wrong, that’s–”

Steve shoves his finger in your tight, virgin asshole. He hadn’t been planning on defiling that third hole tonight, but oh well. And it’s even tighter than your pussy, and you clench against his digit like a fucking whore because he knows you like it. You like your daddy’s finger up there. His fucked up little wife-to-be… God, you were so perfect for him.

 With his fat cock, Steve fucks your pussy and at the same time, his huge finger fucks your tiny ass. Pumping in and out of your tiny hole while you cry and yet once more you slowly begin humping up against him. As if the depravity of it all turned you on even more – which he knew it did.

Your hand tugs at his bicep, making him shift his gaze back up to you.

“It’s happening again, daddy, it’s– d-don’t stop, I–”

Steve licks his lips, “Say you’ll marry me.”

Your eyes widen the most they have all night, “Wh-What?!”

“Say it!” He orders, “Say it or else I’ll fucking stop and leave you hanging. Say you’ll marry me, be my wife and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

“N-No, I–”

He stills his hips, only for you to shake your head and grip his arm harder in desperation, humping up against him hopelessly.

“Say it. Say you’re daddy’s little bride. Fucking say it.”

“I-I’m daddy’s little bride, okay? I’ll do it, daddy, I’ll marry you, I – OH FUCK, PLEASE – I’ll do whatever you say, I, just please, I–” You’ve lost it, completely lost it as new tears swell from your eyes and you beg him as if you have no shame at all. And Steve feels all the pride and smugness in the world as he resumes fucking you, knowing he won’t last any longer after this carnal display of submission from you.

“Cum.” He orders you, “right now, sweetheart, do what I say and cum for daddy.”

You squirt so violently around his cock, that your whole body shakes and shudders, you’re so overwhelmed by pleasure. Toes curled and tears streaking your face, you hold him so tightly that he’s surprised by your strength, and you keep moaning his name, you keep moaning “daddy” over and over again as if he got his agents to reprogramme your brain and it’s all you know how to say now.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he mutters lowly, “squeeze that pretty little princess cunt around daddy’s dick. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy,” your meek response, barely audible by how quietly you say it, is not something he expected, and it goes straight to his dick. Not you, not his little bride, thanking him for deflowering you in the most brutal way possible? Fuck, he’d broken you. You’d be licking the palm of his hand by tomorrow; he just knew it.

The thought makes him shudder, his dick twitches and then he unloads inside you. Spurt after spurt unloaded straight into your pussy, and it’s such a satisfying feeling, pumping you full of his seed. Filling you the fuck up, and he’s glad he didn’t use the fucking condom. And there’s so much of his cum, because of the serum of course, so much that it doesn’t even fit inside you. It pours out of you and you watch with wide eyes before letting out a soft cry.

“I’m not… I’m not protected, I don’t take birth control, I–I…” Your voice trails off, too weak to voice any more protestations as Steve continues to empty himself inside you, your words having no effect on him whatsoever.

“Good. You’d be lucky to carry my child.” Steve informs you, his cock already thickening again at the thought of him knocking you up. He’d never had an interest in having children before now, but fucking a whole family into you seems like the hottest fucking thing he could do right now. Captain America: the family man. It made sense for his image.

Your protests fall on deaf ears, and he remains inside you, till he’s finally emptied out and your poor, raw pussy is overflowing with his cum. But he stays on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he watches you underneath him. Your chest rising and falling as you breathe, and you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but lean down to kiss you again. Once, twice, three times. He frowns when you don’t kiss him back, drawing back to take another look at you.

Your eyes have fluttered shut. Your body couldn’t take it. You’ve passed out once more.

Steve smirks, feeling himself hardening up again inside you. He had absolutely no qualms with fucking you back to consciousness again.

***

It’s gone past midnight when Steve hears a knock on his door. He calls for them to come in, and two SHIELD agents appear in his doorway. The same two who always come to take away his rewards after he’s done with them.

The female agent’s jaw twitches at the sight. Steve on the bed, having changed and washed up with a quick shower. And you’re next to him, passed out on the bloodied sheets. Steve reckons you look beautiful, like you’re sleeping.

“Would you like for us to take her away, Captain?” The male agent asks.

“No. She will stay with me. Contact her family and let them know, make them pack a bag for her and make sure it arrives here by tomorrow.”

The male agent nods, but the female – it’s always the damned females, Steve scorns – she hesitates.

“Captain, she looks like she’s in bad shape. Maybe–”

“That will be all.” Steve interrupts, “you can leave now.”

They do, and Steve turns his attentions back to you – his little girl, as you begin to stir.

“Shhh,” he orders, when you open your mouth to speak. Your eyes look bleary, you look confused, wondering whether all this was a dream or not. Steve’s in no mood to indulge you, and yet he presses his thumb past your lips. And fuck, it goes straight to his dick when you readily accept it, sucking his thumb like a baby as you blink up at him.

His beautiful, broken little bride.

“Go back to sleep.” Steve tells you, “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for us. You need all the rest you can get.”

Yes, tomorrow. When he’d parade you around his teammates as Captain America’s little bride. It would be perfect. His forever reward.

Tony had his alcohol, Sam had his parties, Bruce had his research and Bucky had some girl. But Steve? Steve had drawn the best cards out of all of them. Because he had you. Your submission, your devotion. You.

He deserved this.

AKFSLA THE END!! Steve's inner monologue was unhinged af. I know! Please, please let me know what you think!!! It would mean the world, please do reblog and leave feedback!!! I have been writing this for around two weeks and would love to know what you think!!! As usual, thanks so much for reading my work and supporting me!!! I love you guys!! SORRY IF IT SUCKED ASDAGNL.

ALSO please forgive me if i got anything wrong about shield or hydra or any of that. like i literally am not an expert asnglagl okaybye!!!

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker.  I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you. 

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point. 

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it. 

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow. 

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.." 

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here." 

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?" 

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?" 

"I don't have time for this-" 

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?" 

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans. 

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks." 

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now." 

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching. 

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-" 

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!" 

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall. 

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly? 

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out. 

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big. 

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing. 

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm. 

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain. 

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies. 

"What happened?" He strains. 

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-" 

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye. 

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-" 

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple. 

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile. 

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you. 

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?" 

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does. 

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now. 

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?" 

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan. 

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact. 

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-" 

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-" 

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-" 

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it. 

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?" 

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?" 

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to. 

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts." 

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears. 

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down. 

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning. 

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before. 

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now. 

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home. 

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time. 

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear. 

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?" 

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?" 

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?" 

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me." 

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me." 

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard. 

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes… 

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.  

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate. 

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you. 

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding. 

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?" 

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?" 

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?" 

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?" 

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?" 

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters." 

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word. 

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface. 

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head. 

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla." 

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning. 

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?" 

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this." 

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you." 

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

_

_

_

[thewitchblue]

You've been a hero for years, but you play the same prank on every member of the Batfamily. You have regenerative powers to the extreme that your injuries heal in seconds if you allow it. The first time gets them every time.

You have metal claws and a fury that burns. You shine under stressful situations. You are the key to their success oftentimes. You are a soldier through-and-through with a surprisingly high level of intelligence. You never told them the extent of your experience, but you've shown and proven yourself in combat, so you never had to. So, you started having fun with it.

Dick thought he hit you too hard in the temple with his weapon and panicked when you, taking the opportunity, crumpled to the ground. He's never run so fast. Being the leader, he really didn't want to be charged with murder nor kill one of his greatest fighters.

Tim, poor Tim. He was so exhausted he grew sloppy on a mission. Sloppy enough that you needed to jump in front of a blade for him. Somehow, the blade managed to slip between your ribs and puncture your left lung.

Well, that woke Tim up. He never finished a fight quicker. He speed ran a fight. He was on a timer, and he felt it. You were, seemingly, bleeding out because he stubbornly refused to sleep the night before, and you had to jump in front of a blade for him. He felt guilty and horrified. What does he tell Batman? What does he tell Jason? He'll need to hang up the suit, and he'll never leave the house again. You were the soldier everybody needed. The rock everybody can rely on despite your jagged edges. He knelt beside you. He wanted to check for a pulse, but he knew it was too late. He was fighting the goons for too long. There was no way you survived. Then, he heard your laughter. You laughed in his face, and your eyes opened. You laughed so hard you cried. Tim nearly collapsed on top of you in relief. He won't be killed by Jason or Bruce tonight, and, mostly importantly, you survived. You were a dick about it the entire way back to HQ.

Bruce was frozen in terror. His son's significant other just died on his watch. He was getting flashbacks from the time Jason died. Jason. How was Jason going to forgive him? How was he going to forgive himself? He was the one to suggest you come with him on the mission. He thought it would be easy. A simple mission against Scarecrow. You were the best pick because your system cleared out the fear toxin the fastest out of everyone else. You've seen worse horrors than what the fear toxin could conjure up, so you never falter in the fight. Scarecrow actually feared you because of this. He has yet to find a combination that is strong enough to put you down. Now, Bruce's best soldier was gurgling blood with a slit throat. He's failed you. He let you die. You didn't have a family to mourn you. He didn't know enough about you to properly set up a funeral. How could he let this happen? After everyone was jailed, he let the police take over and ran to your body. Your blood had dried and caked on your neck. He knows a dead body when he sees one, and you are very much dead in his eyes. He sighed heavily as he picked you up, only to almost drop you immediately as you opened your eyes and grinned at him.

"How?"

Was the first question he demanded. He knew your healing factor was very powerful, but to recover from a slit throat seemed like a lot, especially after seeing how much blood you let yourself lose before closing the wound. You playfully punch his shoulder with a grin,

"You know how, old man."

He laughed. Touché. He knows your abilities likely better than you do yourself.

Damian wanted to give you a funeral fit for a king. He liked you the best out of everyone, including Jon. He threw a knife that managed to cut through your skull and lodge into your brain. His panic was immediate but short-lived as you pulled the knife out of your brain and closed to the wound. You scowled because it caused a headache, but you survived quite easily. In that single moment, he considered seriously contacting his grandfather to put you in the Lazarus Pit, but he knew you wouldn't want a second chance at life. He knew you would happily die a warrior's death than live a coward's life. He respected that. Damian nearly cried as he ran to you. He clung to you all day and refused to say why to anybody. You simply returned his hugs and ran your fingers through his hair affectionately. You murmured about forgiving him, and he clung tigher. He knows he doesn't have to guard you on missions, but he's a lot more protective of you outside. Chihuahua privileges.

Barbara watched with horror on the CCTV footage on a local building as you get decapitated. She had flashbacks to her run with the Joker that left her paralysed. The Joker struck again. Instead of taking you hostage, you fought too much. You fought like a whirlwind of adamantium and controlled fury. Joker wouldn't have stood a chance if someone didn't come up behind you and cut your head off. She screamed as your body picked your head up from the ground and put it back on without so much as a wince. Joker ran the second the claws came out.

Cass was petrified. She's seen death before, but your healing factor hadn't seemed to help at all when she found your corpse. You were beaten to death by Bane. She gave an appreciative whistle as she pushes your head to the side to look at the handprints around your neck. He did not go easy on you, that's for sure. She wondered how he didn't die with you. He was skewered like a kebab on your claws, limb limp but claws still out and buried into his heart. She checked and he was still alive. Barely, so you must have been just shy of puncturing the organ. You went down fighting, and that was the best she could have hoped for with you. She went to radio on comms about the news only to be stopped by a clawed hand. She watched in stunned silence as your body heals itself in less than one minute. You sat up and stretched like a cat before removing your claws from Bane. Bane groaned in agony, but you didn't mind him. You merely wiped your claws clean on his shirt with a cheeky smile on your face.

"Well, that was fun. Next time, show up faster, yes?"

Cass could only nod, dumbstruck as you laugh at her expression. Cass knew your healing factor was insane, but you were so clearly dead to her. She never underestimated you again as you told her it was self-control that stopped you from puncturing Bane's heart, not death.

Duke hadn't known fear until he watched Ra's Al Ghul gut you like a fish. Ra's used his fear as a chance to escape, and Duke couldn't find it in himself to chase. He collapsed at your side. It all happened so fast. He had no time to react. No time to stop it.

He screeched when your hands both retracted their claws, and you stuffed your organs casually back inside your body as it healed itself. His eyes were wide as you chuckled at his misery.

"Gotcha. Now, let's get the bastard, yeah?"

Duke could only nod. He was still in shock as you ran your way to catch Ra's. Talia, for what it was worth, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before sauntering off into the night herself.

Jason was furious, to say the least. Here he was, on his knees over your seemingly dead body only for you to jumpscare him while your body healed.

You cackled like a witch on Halloween as your body heals immediately. You can control your healing factor. To whatever degree you want to. You were never in any danger.

You put the fear of God in many people because of this prank. Jason was fuming.

"Why the fuck would you do that, pipsqueak?!"

His scream echoed in the alleyway you were "murdered" in. You merely laughed. Your claws come out in the moment and you slit your own throat but quickly heal yourself.

"I'm sorry, birdie. You were the last one to do this on."

That was the wrong thing to say because that pissed him off even further,

"THE LAST ONE?! YOU'VE DONE THIS BEFORE?!"

Everyone on the mission watched with amused expressions. It's true. Your prank, admittedly, was mean. Especially to your boyfriend who came back from the grave himself. Fondly, you cup his face with a smile. You said confidently,

"God doesn't have the nuts to kill me, Birdie."

Jason rolled his eyes, scoffing and throwing a tantrum like a toddler. He drops your body. He could never truly be angry with you, but he's pissed you put yourself in the position of needing to be healed in the first place.

"Alright, smartass. I'm not saving your sorry ass next mission. You can do that yourself."

Jason tensed immediately once he hears the snap of your spine breaking, but you weakly laugh and heal it in seconds. Lovingly, you say,

"Bones are harder than organs, asshole."

Now Jason laughs. He was still pissed, but hey. That saves on medical supplies.

[bratzkoo]

offside | seungcheol

Author: bratzkoo Pairing:  Hockey team player/captain! Seungcheol x Physical Therapist! reader Genre: fluff, chaos Rating: PG-13 Word count: 6.5k Warnings/note: i wrote this to start chaos. have fun reading!

summary: seungcheol's hockey teammates just wants a break from their captain's strictness with hockey practice and decides to force him to join a dating app.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

"Desperate Times Call For Desperate Teamates"

"We need to do something," Seungkwan declared dramatically, sliding down the practice room wall. "I can't feel my legs, and I swear I saw Dino's soul leave his body during that last drill."

The maknae in question was indeed face-down on the floor, only managing a weak thumbs up to confirm his continued existence.

"He's gotten worse," Jeonghan observed from his position on the bench, watching their leader through the glass as Seungcheol reviewed practice footage. Again. "Yesterday, I caught him making a spreadsheet comparing different practice intensities. He color-coded it."

"That's... normal?" Vernon tried optimistically.

"At 3 AM, Vernonie. 3 AM."

A collective groan echoed through the room.

"Did you know," Mingyu started, still catching his breath, "he named his new hockey stick? I heard him calling it 'Dedication' while cleaning it."

"Better than last week's 'Discipline'," Wonwoo muttered, not looking up from his phone where he was apparently documenting their captain's concerning behaviors.

Jun raised his hand like a student in class. "Question: is it normal that he's memorizing the ice rink's maintenance schedule? He knows when they resurface the ice better than the zamboni driver."

"The driver's married, by the way," DK added helpfully. "Even the penalty box has more romance than our captain."

Hoshi suddenly sat up straight, eyes wide with his trademark tiger enthusiasm. "THAT'S IT!"

"Indoor voice, please," Woozi grumbled, rubbing his temples. "Some of us are still recovering from this morning's 'voluntary' extra practice."

"No, no, listen!" Hoshi was now pacing, his energy seemingly restored. "What does our Coups-hyung need?"

"A life?" Minghao suggested.

"Sleep?" from Joshua.

"Therapy?" Wonwoo pushed up his glasses.

"A GIRLFRIEND!" Hoshi announced triumphantly.

The practice room fell silent. Twelve pairs of eyes shifted to look at their captain through the glass, who was now rewinding the same play for what must have been the twentieth time.

"That..." Jeonghan started slowly, a mischievous smile spreading across his face, "might be the first useful thing you've said all year, Hoshi-yah."

"Hey!"

"No, no, he's onto something," Joshua leaned forward, already pulling out his phone. "Remember when Seungcheol-hyung had that crush on the girl from the coffee shop last year?"

"Oh yeah," Dino suddenly revived from his floor position. "He actually left practice on time for like two weeks."

"Until he scared her away by talking about hockey stats," Seungkwan reminded them.

"That's why," Jeonghan stood up, commanding attention like the second eldest should, "we need a plan. A mission."

"A mission impossible," Vernon quipped.

"Exactly!" Jeonghan pointed at him. "We need to get our captain a girlfriend before he turns this team into an Olympic training camp."

Woozi raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you propose we do that?"

"Simple," Jeonghan's smile grew wider, more dangerous. "We form committees."

"Oh no," Joshua muttered, knowing that look.

"Oh YES," Seungkwan perked up, loving that look.

And thus, Operation "Mission Impossible: Get Seungcheol a Girlfriend Because We're Afraid He's Gonna Be More Strict With Practice Like Let Him Get a Life Pls Pls Pls" was born.

"We need a shorter name," Wonwoo noted, already typing it in his phone.

"M.I.G.S.A.G.B.W.A.H.G.B.M.S.W.P.L.H.G.A.L.P.P.P?" Vernon tried.

"Perfect," Jeonghan clapped his hands. "Now, for the committees. Hoshi, you're in charge of daily tiger horoscope readings-"

"That's not a thing," Woozi interjected.

"It is now. Joshua, you're documenting everything. Mingyu and Minghao, you're on style watch - make sure he doesn't wear hockey jerseys on dates."

"Bold of you to assume he owns other clothes," Mingyu muttered.

"Seungkwan, you're our drama department-"

"I was born ready!"

"Wonwoo, you're researching dating apps. Vernon and Jun, you're our social media experts. Dino... just try to survive practice for now."

"What about me?" DK raised his hand.

"You and Woozi are our emergency extraction team. If any date goes wrong, you pull him out with a fake emergency."

"Can the emergency be my dying leg muscles?" Dino asked from the floor.

"Speaking of," Jun suddenly pointed at the glass. "Incoming!"

They scattered like startled cats just as Seungcheol opened the door, looking suspiciously at his suddenly innocent-looking teammates.

"Break's over. Let's run that play again."

The collective internal screaming was audible.

"We start tonight," Jeonghan whispered as they lined up. "For our legs."

"For our legs," twelve voices whispered back.

-

6:00 PM - Team Lounge Preparation

"Places everyone!" Jeonghan's voice commanded through the earpieces he'd borrowed (stolen) from the broadcasting team. "Hoshi, status on the PowerPoint?"

"Forty-seven slides of pure tiger-themed conviction!" 

"It was supposed to be five slides," Woozi muttered, sitting at the piano he'd somehow smuggled in. "Also, why am I composing 'The Ballad of Single Seungcheol' again?"

"Emotional impact," Seungkwan explained, practicing his dramatic slides across the floor. "We need background music for my monologue about dying alone."

"No one's dying alone," Joshua sighed, reviewing his crisis management notebook:

- Plan A: Direct confrontation

- Plan B: Emotional manipulation

- Plan C: Vernon's interpretive dance

- Plan Z: Release the embarrassing photos

Meanwhile, Mingyu and Minghao were strategically placing furniture.

"The chair needs to be exactly 45 degrees under the spotlight," Minghao insisted.

"We don't have a spotlight," Mingyu pointed out.

"VERNON!"

"On it!" Vernon appeared with a desk lamp and determination.

At the same time - Y/N's Clinic Break Room

"You need to date," Krissa, Y/N's coworker, declared while stealing her lunch. "When was the last time you went out?"

"I go out!" Y/N protested, thinking about her weekly grocery runs.

"The old lady with the hip replacement asking you to dinner with her grandson doesn't count."

"Mrs. Kim is sweet..."

"She's also convinced her grandson is the next president. He collects rubber ducks, Y/N. Rubber. Ducks."

6:30 PM - The Ambush Begins

Seungcheol was having a good day. He'd organized new training menus (color-coded by intensity), named his newest hockey stick ("Perseverance"), and only spent three hours analyzing game footage.

The first sign something was wrong: the lounge lights were off.

The second sign: Mingyu trying (failing) to hide his 6'2" frame behind a plant.

"What-"

"HYUNG!" Seungkwan's voice echoed dramatically. "Do you know what day it is?"

"...Thursday?"

"IT'S YOUR INTERVENTION!"

The lights flashed on. Seungcheol found himself surrounded by his teammates, each wearing matching black hoodies with "Code Red: The Captain NEEDS a GIRLFRIEND" printed in glittering letters.

"Are those... rhinestones?"

"Focus!" Jeonghan stepped forward. "Seungcheol-ah, we need to talk about your relationship with hockey."

"My perfectly normal-"

"YOU TRIED TO INSTALL AN ICE RINK IN YOUR APARTMENT!" DK interrupted.

"It was a small one-"

"Exhibit A!" Hoshi clicked to his first slide, featuring a pie chart of Seungcheol's daily activities:

- 60% Hockey

- 30% Thinking about hockey

- 9% Basic human needs

- 1% Everything else

"That's... not accurate?"

"Exhibit B!" Another slide: a photo series titled 'The Evolution of Our Captain's Dating Life' showing:

- 2019: Attempted to explain offside rules on first date

- 2020: Brought hockey stick to coffee shop

- 2021: Asked team manager for practice schedules during blind date

- 2022: "Is being married to hockey valid?"

Meanwhile - Y/N's Evening Commute

"Just download the app," Krissa had insisted, practically forcing Y/N's thumb onto the install button. "Trust the algorithm!"

Now, squished between a businessman and a grandmother on the subway, Y/N found herself mindlessly scrolling through profiles.

Too posed. Too filtered. Too... is that guy posing with a fish?

Then she saw it.

'Cheol, 26'

The first photo was clearly candid - a genuine smile, caught mid-laugh. Someone had badly edited out what looked like hockey gear in the background, leaving obvious white spaces.

The second photo: attempting to look serious but his eyes gave away suppressed laughter. More suspicious white spaces around him.

The third: clearly taken without his knowledge, feeding a stray cat.

Bio: "Just a guy who likes ice sports and dad jokes. My friends made me download this. They're currently holding my training menus hostage. Send help."

Y/N found herself smiling. There was something refreshingly honest about him.

Back at the Ambush...

"And THAT'S why penguins mate for life!" Hoshi concluded slide thirty-seven.

"What do penguins have to do with-" Seungcheol started.

"EVERYTHING!" Seungkwan was now lying dramatically across the floor. "Even flightless birds find love, hyung!"

"Woozi-hyung, music!" DK cued.

The opening notes of 'The Ballad of Single Seungcheol' filled the room, accompanied by Vernon's unexpected contemporary dance.

"When did he learn-" Seungcheol tried again.

"STOP DEFLECTING!" Jeonghan commanded. "Mingyu, the phone!"

"For our legs!" Mingyu declared, executing a perfect phone-grabbing maneuver.

"YAH!"

"Jun, Minghao, initiate synchronized intervention dance!"

"We have a dance?!" Minghao looked panicked.

"Improvise!"

- After 15 minutes of improvised dance, they managed to make Seungcheol agree in making a dating app profile: "Bio first," Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, phone in hand. "Interests?"

"Hockey!" Seungcheol offered from his chair, where he was being guarded by Mingyu and Jun.

"NO!" Eleven voices shouted.

"Put 'enjoys sports'," Joshua suggested diplomatically.

"And dad jokes," Jeonghan added. "He needs to warn them early."

"What about: 'Looking for someone to share ice cream with'?" Vernon suggested.

"That's... actually cute?" Woozi sounded surprised.

"Add 'good with kids'!" Hoshi insisted.

"I've never-"

"YOU LITERALLY TUCK US IN AFTER PRACTICE!" Seungkwan interrupted.

Photo Selection Committee:

"No hockey photos," Mingyu declared, scrolling through Seungcheol's gallery.

"That's 98% of my photos-"

"We know," Minghao sighed. "That's the problem."

"Oh! This one!" Dino pointed. "From team dinner!"

"Too many hockey players in frame," Joshua vetoed.

"We could edit them out?" Jun suggested.

"NO-" Seungcheol started.

"Wonwoo, your Photoshop skills!" Jeonghan commanded.

"On it."

"Is that... why is there a white blob where Mingyu was standing?"

"Artistic choice," Wonwoo muttered, concentrated.

Meanwhile - Y/N's Apartment

"You're overthinking," Krissa's voice came through the phone as Y/N stared at Cheol's profile.

"His friends clearly made this profile-"

"That's cute! It means he's not a player."

"But what if-"

"Y/N, I swear, if you don't swipe right-"

"His smile seems genuine..."

"SWIPE. RIGHT. NOW."

Back at the Ambush:

"And done!" Wonwoo announced. "Profile complete."

Seungcheol looked horrified at the final result:

Photos:

Team dinner (now with mysterious white blobs)

Feeding cat (only half-edited hockey stick visible)

Candid laugh (suspiciously cropped)

Bio: "Just a guy who enjoys sports, dad jokes, and ice cream. Good with kids (and teammates). My friends made me download this. They're currently holding my training menus hostage. Send help."

"It's... honest?" Joshua offered.

"Too honest," Seungcheol groaned.

"Now we wait-" Jeonghan started.

ping

Thirteen heads snapped toward the phone.

"Is that..." Dino peered closer.

"A MATCH!" Seungkwan actually collapsed.

"Someone check if he's breathing," Woozi muttered.

Y/N's profile lit up the screen.

Seungcheol felt his ears turn red as he read:

"Physical therapist who loves dogs, rainy days, and helping people recover. Looking for something genuine. Probably swiping through this while drinking coffee."

Her smile was warm, natural. No filters, no posed shots. Just... real.

"She's perfect!" Hoshi declared. "The stars-"

"If you say the stars align one more time-" Woozi threatened.

"But they do!"

"Quick, say something!" Mingyu urged.

"I can do this myself-"

"The last time you messaged someone, you sent hockey statistics," Jun reminded him.

"One time!"

"Three times," Joshua corrected, consulting his notes. "Four if we count the referee explanation."

Seungcheol looked at Y/N's profile again. Something about her eyes seemed kind, understanding. Before his teammates could interfere, he typed:

"Since you're a physical therapist, any advice for teammates who dramatically fall during interventions?"

Across Seoul, Y/N was curled up on her couch when the message came through. She laughed out loud, typing back:

"Depends. Was it a planned fall or genuine distress? In my professional opinion, dramatic interventions require proper falling technique."

In the team lounge:

"She has humor!" Seungkwan had revived just to faint again.

"And medical knowledge for your old joints!" Dino dodged another flying pillow.

"Mission status?" Jeonghan asked formally.

"Phase one..." Joshua consulted his notebook, "surprisingly successful?"

"Now what?" Vernon asked.

"Now," Jeonghan smiled mysteriously, "we begin Phase Two: Operation First Date."

"We have a Phase Two?" Woozi looked concerned.

"We have phases up to Z," Joshua showed his notebook.

"God help us all," Seungcheol muttered, but he was smiling at his phone.

Little did Y/N know that her simple right swipe had initiated not just a potential romance, but had inadvertently involved her in the chaos of thirteen hockey players' most ambitious mission yet.

And somewhere in the lounge, Hoshi was already preparing his "Why Tigers Make Great Wedding Mascots" presentation.

-

“How To Text While Twelve People Read Over Your Shoulder"

Team Lounge - 10 Minutes Post-Match

"Don't just stare at her message," Mingyu urged, practically draped over Seungcheol's shoulder.

"I'm thinking-"

"That's your problem!" Seungkwan had recovered enough to offer wisdom. "Less thinking, more heart!"

Seungcheol typed: "My teammate's falls are an art form. Years of practice-"

"NO SPORTS REFERENCES!" Twelve voices yelled.

Delete, delete, delete.

"Just be yourself," Joshua advised.

"But not too much yourself," Jeonghan added.

"What does that even mean?" Seungcheol groaned.

Meanwhile - Y/N's Apartment

"He's taking a while to respond," Y/N muttered, watching the typing bubble appear and disappear.

"Maybe he's nervous?" Krissa suggested through the phone.

"Or composing poetry," Y/N joked.

"Or being attacked by friends," Krissa laughed.

If only she knew.

Back at the Lounge:

"Okay, how about..." Seungcheol tried again.

"You have to match her energy!" Hoshi was now doing his tiger-energy dance.

"Stop pressuring him," Wonwoo adjusted his glasses. "Statistically, overthinking first messages leads to-"

"No statistics!" Jun covered his ears.

Finally, Seungcheol managed to type:

"Would you believe me if I said one teammate has a dedicated falling technique for every emotional situation? We're currently at 'betrayed by captain who won't date' level dramatics."

Send.

"OH MY GOD HE SENT IT-" Seungkwan started hyperventilating.

"Quick, everyone act natural!" DK suggested, immediately striking the most unnatural pose possible.

Y/N's response came quickly:

"😂 As a professional, I'd love to analyze these techniques. For medical purposes, of course. Does he take appointments?"

The lounge erupted:

"She's funny!" from Vernon.

"She used an emoji!" Dino noted.

"Medical purposes," Woozi smirked.

"RESPOND FASTER!" Mingyu shook Seungcheol.

Meanwhile, in another corner, Operation Phase Two was already underway:

"Gather round," Jeonghan whispered to his secret subcommittee. "We need to prepare for every possible first date scenario."

Joshua pulled out a new notebook labeled "First Date Contingency Plans A-Z":

Plan A: Coffee Shop

- Pros: Casual, easy escape

- Cons: Might talk about hockey

- Solution: Remove all sports channels from café TVs

Plan B: Dog Café

- Pros: Cute animals, natural conversation

- Cons: Seungcheol might be allergic

- Note: Test for allergies immediately

Plan C: Restaurant

- Pros: Traditional, romantic

- Cons: Too much pressure

- Solution: Have team occupy all surrounding tables

"Should we include Plan T for Tiger Zoo?" Hoshi asked hopefully.

"No."

Back to the main conversation:

Seungcheol: "He's currently booked solid with interventions, but I hear he's willing to demonstrate for medical professionals 😊"

Y/N: "How generous! Though I should warn you, my professional opinion might include prescribing more social interactions for certain hockey-focused captains 😉"

The lounge went silent.

"Did she just..." Vernon started.

"She figured out..." Mingyu gasped.

"A WOMAN OF INTELLIGENCE!" Seungkwan declared.

Seungcheol felt his ears redden but found himself smiling as he typed:

"Caught me. Though in my defense, my team's intervention included a PowerPoint about why penguins finding love means I should too."

Y/N's Apartment:

She was grinning at her phone, ignoring Krissa's demands for updates. There was something endearing about this clearly hockey-obsessed captain and his concerned teammates.

Y/N: "Penguins are quite romantic. Though I hope your team knows humans have slightly different courtship rituals. Slightly."

Team Lounge:

"Is this... flirting?" Dino whispered in awe.

"Taking notes," Joshua muttered, scribbling furiously.

"We should give them space," Woozi suggested sensibly.

Nobody moved.

"I meant that as a command," Woozi glared.

Still nobody moved.

Seungcheol, somehow managing to type despite twelve people breathing down his neck:

"Would you be interested in discussing these human courtship rituals over coffee? I promise no PowerPoints. Can't guarantee no dramatic teammates though."

The lounge held its breath.

Y/N: "I'd like that! Fair warning though - I might assess your teammate's falling technique from afar. Professional curiosity 😊"

"SHE SAID YES!" 

Chaos erupted:

- Seungkwan fainted (again)

- Hoshi began his victory tiger dance

- Vernon started his congratulatory rap

- Woozi contemplated early retirement

- Jeonghan's eyes gleamed with Phase Two possibilities

"Operation First Date begins now," Joshua announced formally.

"Can I just plan my own date?" Seungcheol tried.

The look of pity he received from twelve pairs of eyes was answer enough.

- "Operation First Date (Or Twelve Ways to Overcomplicate Coffee)"

The Pre-Date Strategy Meeting - 3 Days Before

"ATTENTION!" Jeonghan stood at a whiteboard, pointer in hand. The team lounge had been transformed into a tactical command center, complete with:

- Floor plans of every coffee shop in a 5-mile radius

- Weather forecasts for the next week

- A mysterious PowerPoint titled "Tiger Luck in Romance"

- Seungkwan's "Emergency Scenarios" binder

- Joshua's "Date Exit Strategies A-Z"

Seungcheol sat in the corner, wondering where it all went wrong.

"First," Jeonghan began, "location analysis."

Wonwoo stepped forward, pushing up his glasses:

"I've compiled data on 47 potential coffee shops based on:

- Ambient lighting

- Background music volume

- Table spacing for optimal conversation

- Distance from hockey-related establishments

- Escape route availability"

"It's just coffee," Seungcheol muttered.

"JUST COFFEE?!" Seungkwan clutched his chest. "This is your FUTURE!"

"Moving on," Jeonghan continued. "Mingyu, wardrobe report."

Mingyu unveiled a clothing rack that definitely wasn't in the lounge this morning.

"I've prepared three categories:

1. 'Casual but Make It Romantic'

2. 'Yes I'm a Hockey Captain but I Read Books Too'

3. 'Trust Me I Have Other Hobbies'"

"Are those my clothes?" Seungcheol squinted.

"No, these are better," Minghao replied, sorting through fabrics. "Your clothes all say 'I sleep in hockey gear.'"

Meanwhile - Y/N's Preparation

"Just wear something comfortable," Krissa suggested, watching Y/N tear through her closet.

"But what kind of comfortable? Coffee comfortable? First date comfortable? Meeting-a-hockey-captain comfortable?"

"Is that last one a category?"

"I'm making it one!"

Back at Strategy HQ:

"Conversation topics!" Joshua read from his notebook.

DK raised his hand. "What about-"

"No hockey," everyone chorused.

"But-"

"NO. HOCKEY."

Hoshi bounced up. "The stars say-"

"No horoscopes," Woozi interrupted.

"But the tigers-"

"Especially no tiger horoscopes."

Vernon, surprisingly practical: "Why don't you just... talk normally?"

The room fell silent. Everyone looked at Vernon like he'd suggested playing hockey blindfolded.

"Talk... normally?" Jeonghan tested the words.

"Like... without a script?" Jun looked concerned.

"Absolutely not," Seungkwan declared. "We need contingency plans!"

The Emergency Scenarios Binder appeared:

- Scenario 1: Awkward Silence

  Solution: Pre-planted conversation cards under sugar packets

- Scenario 2: Hockey Mention

  Solution: DK's emergency dance distraction

- Scenario 3: Rain

  Solution: Strategic umbrella placement by Jun

- Scenario 4: She Recognizes Surveillance Team

  Solution: Mingyu's "We're Filming a Documentary" cover story

"Surveillance team?!" Seungcheol stood up.

"Sit down," Jeonghan commanded. "We're not done with the scenarios."

"There's more?!"

"There's always more," Joshua said ominously, flipping to his notebook's section labeled 'Crisis Management'.

Dino raised his hand. "What about our positions?"

"Ah yes," Jeonghan pulled down a blueprint. "Operation Coffee Shop Placement":

- Wonwoo & Mingyu: Window seats, pretending to study

- Joshua & Jeonghan: Counter, monitoring drink orders

- Seungkwan & Vernon: Outside café, "casual" pedestrians

- Jun & Minghao: Corner table, fake art students

- Hoshi: Emergency tiger energy provider

- Woozi: Getaway driver

- DK & Dino: Backup dancers if needed

"Getaway driver?!" Seungcheol looked alarmed.

"You never know," Woozi shrugged.

"And I'll be monitoring everyone's positions through these," Hoshi proudly held up twelve earpieces.

"Absolutely not," Seungcheol stood again.

"You're right," Jeonghan nodded. "We need color-coded earpieces."

The Day Before - Final Preparations:

Text from Y/N: "Looking forward to tomorrow! Any preference for which café?"

The team lounge exploded into action:

- Wonwoo consulting his café spreadsheets

- Mingyu checking lighting angles

- Joshua reviewing escape routes

- Seungkwan practicing his "casual pedestrian" walk

- Hoshi doing good luck tiger dances

Seungcheol, somehow maintaining sanity: "How about Stone Street Café at 2?"

"THAT WASN'T ON THE APPROVED LIST!" Seungkwan screeched.

"Perfect timing and place!" Y/N replied.

"She's perfect," Hoshi whispered. "The tigers were right."

"The tigers weren't-" Woozi started, then gave up.

"Tomorrow then," Jeonghan announced dramatically, "Operation First Date begins."

"Can't wait! 😊" Y/N texted, blissfully unaware of the twelve-man tactical team she'd inadvertently invited to coffee.

- "Operation First Date (Or How Twelve Hockey Players Became Drama Addicts)"

D-Day: Stone Street Café

1:30 PM - Initial Positions

"Everyone remember their roles?" Jeonghan whispered into the earpiece.

"We could just... not do this," Woozi suggested from the getaway car.

"COMMITMENT!" Seungkwan adjusted his "casual pedestrian" beret.

1:45 PM - Target Sighting

"Eagle has landed," Vernon reported, watching Seungcheol approach. "He's... wait."

"Report!" Jeonghan demanded.

"He looks... good?"

Everyone peered through various windows and hiding spots. Their captain had somehow:

- Styled his hair naturally

- Worn the outfit they approved

- Arrived early

- Wasn't carrying any hockey equipment

"Did we enter an alternate universe?" Minghao whispered.

1:55 PM - Second Target

"Y/N approaching from the east," Mingyu reported from his "study" table. "She's..."

"She's?" Eleven voices asked.

"Wow."

Y/N walked up to the café, a simple sundress and genuine smile making their captain visibly malfunction.

"Oh no, he's frozen," Jun panicked.

"Deploy emergency-" Seungkwan started.

But then...

2:00 PM - The Shift

Seungcheol smiled - not his camera smile, not his captain smile, but something softer. He opened the door for her, and...

"Did you see that?" Joshua whispered.

"The way they both laughed at the same time?" Jeonghan was already invested.

"Shhh!" Dino hushed. "We can't hear!"

Inside the café:

"I honestly wasn't sure if you'd come alone," Y/N grinned, settling into her seat.

"What makes you think I did?" Seungcheol raised an eyebrow.

Y/N casually glanced around, spotting:

- Two very tall men aggressively pretending to study

- A pair of "art students" who hadn't touched their sketchbooks

- A beret-wearing individual walking past the window for the fifth time

"Just a hunch," she smiled.

In various hiding spots:

"She knows!" Vernon whispered.

"But she's not running," Wonwoo observed.

"Guys," Mingyu suddenly said, "look."

They watched as Seungcheol and Y/N fell into easy conversation. No emergency cards needed. No tiger horoscopes required. Just... natural.

2:30 PM - The Evolution

"Should we deploy conversation starter #7?" Seungkwan asked.

"Wait..." Jeonghan held up his hand, watching.

Inside:

"So," Y/N leaned forward, "tell me about hockey."

Twelve hearts stopped.

But instead of launching into statistics, Seungcheol said, "Only if you tell me about what made you choose physical therapy."

She lit up, and suddenly they were sharing stories, laughing, completely lost in their own world.

The Surveillance Team:

"Are we... watching a drama?" DK whispered.

"Quick, someone film this!" Hoshi was emotional.

"Already on it," Joshua had his phone out.

3:00 PM - The Realization

One by one, the earpieces went silent. The elaborate plans forgotten. Twelve hockey players found themselves completely invested in watching their captain just... be happy.

"They're perfect together," Seungkwan sniffled.

"The way she makes him laugh..." Dino observed.

"The way he actually listens..." Mingyu added.

"No one mention hockey once..." Woozi noted, now inside with popcorn(?).

4:00 PM - Mission Evolution

As Seungcheol and Y/N prepared to leave, plans for a second date already made, the team had completely abandoned their positions in favor of:

- Seungkwan and DK writing a musical about them

- Hoshi planning their wedding

- Joshua documenting everything for future generations

- Jeonghan already plotting "Operation Second Date"

- Mingyu and Vernon designing couple merchandise

- Minghao and Jun choreographing a congratulatory dance

- Wonwoo calculating their compatibility (98.7%)

- Dino learning wedding songs

- Woozi pretending he wasn't composing a love song

Outside the Café:

"Your friends are really invested," Y/N commented, watching various heads duck behind plants.

"I'm sorry about them," Seungcheol rubbed his neck.

"Don't be. It's sweet. Though..." she grinned, "they might want to work on their stealth skills. I don't think art students usually cry over other people's coffee dates."

They both looked at Seungkwan, who was openly weeping into his beret.

"Second date?" Seungcheol asked hopefully.

"Definitely. Maybe somewhere with less... audience?"

"IMPOSSIBLE!" came a chorus of whispers from various plants.

Later - Team Lounge:

"Mission status?" Jeonghan asked formally.

"Complete success," Joshua reported, still emotional.

"Better than success," Seungkwan declared. "It's true love!"

"It's one date," Woozi reminded them.

"But did you see how they LOOKED at each other?!" Hoshi was already preparing his "Why Tigers Make Perfect Ring Bearers" presentation.

"So..." Vernon asked what everyone was thinking, "Operation Second Date?"

Seungcheol, walking in: "No."

"But-"

"Absolutely not."

"We'll be subtle!" Mingyu promised.

"You cried into a textbook."

"Those were subtle tears!"

Y/N's Apartment:

"How was it?" Krissa demanded.

Y/N smiled, thinking of gentle eyes and genuine laughs, of twelve not-so-hidden supporters and one perfect afternoon.

"It was... unexpected. In the best way."

Her phone buzzed:

Seungcheol: "I apologize for my team. They're... enthusiastic."

Y/N: "They care about you. It's cute. Though I did wonder why one kept making tiger poses."

Seungcheol: "That's just Hoshi. Wait until you meet him properly."

Y/N: "Looking forward to it 😊"

Team Lounge:

"She said she's looking forward to meeting us!" Seungkwan announced to the group chat.

"FAMILY DINNER!" twelve voices decided.

"No," Seungcheol texted back.

"Too late," Jeonghan was already planning.

"Operation Family Dinner begins now!" Joshua declared.

"We're not calling it-" Woozi started.

"OPERATION FAMILY DINNER!" everyone chorused.

Seungcheol sighed, but he was smiling. Maybe their chaos had led to something perfect after all.

-

"The One Where Someone Actually Likes Hockey (And Him)"

Operation Family Dinner Prep - Team Lounge

"Ground rules," Jeonghan addressed the team. "No embarrassing stories-"

"There goes my PowerPoint," Seungkwan sighed.

"No tiger facts-"

"But-" Hoshi started.

"NO tiger facts, and absolutely no-"

"MISSION ACCOMPLISHED BANNER!" Mingyu and Vernon burst in, proudly displaying a giant banner reading "THANK YOU FOR LIKING OUR CAPTAIN"

"Take it down," Seungcheol groaned.

"But we used glitter!" Vernon protested.

Meanwhile - Y/N's Apartment

"Twelve hockey players," Krissa repeated. "You're having dinner with twelve hockey players."

"Plus Seungcheol," Y/N added, trying on her fifth outfit.

"The same twelve who stalked your coffee date?"

"They weren't stalking! They were... enthusiastically supporting."

The Dinner - 7 PM

Y/N arrived at the team's favorite restaurant to find:

- The banner (they didn't take it down)

- Seungkwan practicing his welcome speech

- Hoshi's "subtle" tiger decorations

- Twelve very excited hockey players

- One very apologetic Seungcheol

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "We can leave-"

"Are you kidding? This is adorable!"

The team collectively melted.

Dinner was in full swing when Seungcheol started explaining a particularly complex play. The twelve teammates watched in fascination, each processing this unprecedented scene differently:

Jeonghan's Corner: "I've seen him scare away five dates with hockey talk," he whispered to Joshua. "Six," Joshua corrected, still filming. "Remember the coffee shop girl who ran away during his penalty explanation?" "But look at Y/N..." They watched as she drew actual play diagrams on napkins. "Are we sure she's real?"

Hoshi & DK's Observation: "The way she gets excited when he gets excited," DK clutched his chest. "It's like watching a drama!" Hoshi wiped a tear. "Better than your tiger documentaries?" "Nothing's better than- OH MY GOD SHE JUST ASKED ABOUT GAME STRATEGIES!"

Mingyu to Wonwoo: "Remember when he tried explaining hockey to my sister?" "She blocked his number," Wonwoo nodded. "But Y/N just asked him to explain MORE." "Statistically impossible but... happening right in front of us."

Minghao noticed something: "Look at his hands," he whispered to Jun. "What about them?" "They're not doing the nervous thing. He's just... comfortable." Jun sniffled: "Our captain's growing up!"

Woozi's Mental Notes:

First date to survive hockey talk ✓

Actually understands offside rules ✓

Makes Seungcheol laugh naturally ✓

Might need to compose a love song after all

Seungkwan's Live Commentary to Vernon: "Did you see that? She just made a hockey joke!" "And he actually laughed-" "NOT THE POLITE LAUGH, VERNON. THE REAL ONE!" "Should you be taking notes this intensely?" "This is historical documentation!"

Dino, watching it all unfold: "Hyung looks... different." "Happy," everyone replied simultaneously.

The turning point came when Y/N casually mentioned:

"Oh, that reminds me of your game last month - the one where you adjusted the defensive formation mid-play? That was brilliant."

Seungcheol froze mid-explanation. "You... watched our old games?"

Y/N blushed slightly. "I might have done some research? I wanted to understand what you love about it. Plus," she grinned, "watching you lead your team is pretty attractive."

Several things happened at once:

Seungkwan choked on air

Jeonghan dropped his phone

Joshua caught it without looking (still filming)

Hoshi started doing tiny victory tiger paws

Mingyu and Minghao high-fived

Wonwoo's glasses fogged up

DK clutched Jun in emotional support

Vernon patted a crying Seungkwan

Woozi pretended he wasn't writing lyrics

Dino watched his hyungs lose their collective minds

But most importantly: Seungcheol looked at Y/N like she had just scored the winning goal in the championship game.

Later, during dessert:

"I have a confession," Y/N admitted to the table. "I might have noticed you all at the coffee shop."

"We were subtle!" Seungkwan protested.

"You cried into a plant."

"Those were subtle tears!"

"And the one doing tiger poses by the window..."

"That was for good luck!" Hoshi defended.

"And the two tall ones pretending to study..."

Mingyu and Wonwoo suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.

"...was actually really sweet. He's lucky to have people who care so much."

The team melted all over again.

"She understands us too," Jeonghan whispered reverently.

"ONE OF US!" Seungkwan declared.

"We're keeping her," Hoshi announced.

"That's not how it works-" Woozi started.

"Too late! Already adopted!" DK confirmed.

Y/N laughed, fitting perfectly into their chaos while her hand found Seungcheol's under the table.

Later that night, Team Group Chat (Minus Seungcheol):

Seungkwan: EMERGENCY MEETING Joshua: It's midnight Seungkwan: LOVE DOESN'T SLEEP Jeonghan: Operation Wedding Planning begins Woozi: It's been ONE dinner Hoshi: BUT DID YOU SEE THEM?! Mingyu: They're perfect 🥺 Vernon: The way she understood hockey... DK: The way he smiled... Jun: The way they looked at each other... Minghao: The way they just fit... Dino: So... Operation Wedding Planning? Wonwoo: sends spreadsheet 

Meanwhile, Seungcheol walking Y/N home:

"I'm sorry about them," he started.

"Don't be. They're wonderful. Chaotic, but wonderful."

"Like a hurricane of love," he laughed.

"With a tiger twist," she added.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and thought maybe his team's crazy plans weren't so crazy after all.

- Something was definitely different about their captain. The first signs were subtle - arriving five minutes late to practice (unheard of), constant phone checking (suspicious), and most alarmingly, humming while setting up drills (miraculous). The team huddled at the corner of the rink, watching Seungcheol with a mixture of awe and disbelief as he smiled at his phone for the fifth time in ten minutes.

"I think we broke him," Seungkwan whispered, clutching Vernon's arm. "Our plan worked too well."

Two months into dating Y/N, and their strict, hockey-obsessed captain had transformed into someone who said things like "the ice understands love" with complete seriousness. The man who once made them repeat a play 47 times now ended practice early because "the lighting at the coffee shop is perfect at 4 PM."

The real shock came during their morning practice. Seungcheol, still typing on his phone with a soft smile, casually announced, "No Sunday practice this week." The rink fell silent. Twelve pairs of eyes stared at their captain as if he'd just declared he was quitting hockey to become a tiger trainer (much to Hoshi's disappointment, he wasn't).

"Why?" Jeonghan dared to ask, though they all knew the answer. Their captain's ears turned that telling shade of red as he mumbled something about Y/N planning something special.

"WHIPPED!" Seungkwan coughed not-so-subtly, earning a half-hearted glare from their leader. The fact that he didn't assign extra laps for the comment only proved the point.

Meanwhile, across town at the physical therapy clinic, Y/N was having a similar effect on her workplace. Her colleagues had grown used to her sudden laughs at hockey memes ("He explains the rules so passionately!"), her lunch breaks extending whenever a certain captain dropped by ("Just five more minutes, he's explaining a new play"), and the way she lit up every time her phone buzzed.

"You actually enjoy his hockey talks," Krissa observed with amazement during their break. "Like, genuinely enjoy them."

Y/N smiled, remembering how Seungcheol's eyes sparkled when she asked about his game strategies. "He's cute when he's excited about it. Besides," she added, checking her phone where Seungcheol had sent a detailed analysis of their morning practice, complete with heart emojis, "his passion is attractive."

Back at the rink, the team was experiencing the full effects of their captain's transformation. Team meetings that once ran for hours now ended with "Any questions? No? Great, I have a date." Their notorious extended cool-downs had shortened considerably because "Y/N found this great lunch spot."

"Remember when he made us sleep at the rink before big games?" Jun whispered to Minghao during water break, watching their captain practically skip while texting.

"Now he leaves early because 'Y/N might get cold waiting,'" Minghao mimicked, though his smile was fond.

The team often found themselves "accidentally" having lunch near Y/N's clinic, watching their captain transform from fierce hockey leader to soft boyfriend in seconds. He'd arrive with her favorite coffee and snacks, his whole demeanor changing at the sight of her smile.

"It's actually kind of beautiful," Seungkwan sniffled, watching through the café window as Seungcheol forgot about his beloved hockey for a full minute, just staring at Y/N like she hung the stars.

"Disgusting," Woozi corrected, but he was already composing what he'd never admit was a love song.

"Remember our mission?" Jeonghan mused, watching their captain laugh at something Y/N said. "Get Seungcheol a girlfriend because we're afraid he's gonna be more strict with practice?"

"Mission accomplished?" Joshua suggested, still filming everything for their future wedding video.

"Better than accomplished," Mingyu grinned, pointing at their captain who was now excitedly explaining a play with sugar packets while Y/N watched with genuine interest. "We got him a girlfriend who actually likes hockey."

"And him," Vernon added importantly.

"The tigers blessed us," Hoshi declared solemnly.

For once, no one argued with the tiger agenda. They were too busy watching their captain being happy, finally having found someone who loved both his passion and him, hockey statistics and all.

- It became their thing - late evening walks after his practice and her clinic hours, usually ending up at the quiet café near the rink. Tonight, Seungcheol watched as Y/N drew little stick figures on a napkin, seriously explaining how his last play could be modified. The café owner, used to their presence, had long stopped asking if they wanted refills, just quietly placing fresh cups of coffee at their table.

"See, if you shift this position slightly," Y/N pointed with her pen, completely focused, "it might give you better coverage on the left side." She looked up to find him staring at her with that soft expression he seemed to reserve just for these moments. "What?"

"Nothing," he smiled, reaching across to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just... do you know you scrunch your nose when you're really focused on explaining something?"

"Says the one who gets excited sparkles in his eyes when talking about new practice drills," she teased back, catching his hand and intertwining their fingers.

These quiet moments were theirs, away from twelve enthusiastic supporters (who they both knew were probably somewhere nearby, with Seungkwan likely crying into Joshua's shoulder about 'true love'). Here, they could just be Seungcheol and Y/N - not the hockey captain and the physical therapist, just two people who found each other through a chaotic intervention and some badly edited dating app photos.

"I never thanked them properly," Y/N mused, playing with his fingers.

"The team? Pretty sure they consider you letting Hoshi explain tiger love compatibility at dinner last week as thanks enough."

She laughed, remembering how seriously Hoshi had presented his PowerPoint while the others tried (failed) to stop him. "Not just for that. For caring about you enough to stage that whole intervention. For being so invested in your happiness that they turned into part-time spies."

"Terrible spies," Seungcheol corrected, thinking of Mingyu's failed attempts at stealth despite his height, and Seungkwan's dramatic crying behind plants. "But yeah, they're... special."

"Your family," she smiled softly.

"Our family now," he corrected, then blushed at his own boldness. "I mean, if you want- they've kind of already adopted you- but no pressure-"

She stopped his rambling with a gentle squeeze of his hand. "I'd love that. Though I should warn you, I might enable your hockey obsession more than they'd like."

"You mean you'll actually listen to my game analysis?"

"I already do that."

"And watch practice sometimes?"

"Already planning to."

"And not run away when I name my hockey sticks?"

"As long as you don't name them all after me," she teased.

His ears turned red. "About that..."

"Cheol! How many?"

"Just the new one! And maybe the backup one. And possibly the special game day one..."

Her laughter filled the café, and Seungcheol thought about how perfectly she fit into his life - into their lives. How she understood not just his passion for hockey, but also his need to take care of twelve chaotic teammates. How she'd become part of their family so naturally, like she was always meant to be there.

"Hey," he said softly, making her look up from where she was still drawing play diagrams. "I love you."

It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but it still made her heart skip just like it did that first time (when he blurted it out after she attended his game and actually understood why a particular play was brilliant).

"I love you too," she smiled, "hockey obsession and all."

"And the twelve-man emotional support team that comes with it?"

"Especially them. Though..." she glanced at the window where several suspicious plants seemed to have gathered, "they might need some work on their stealth skills."

Outside, they could faintly hear Seungkwan's emotional "They're so perfect!" followed by multiple shushes and what sounded like Woozi dragging him away.

Seungcheol just smiled, squeezing her hand. Let them watch. Let them see that sometimes the craziest plans work out perfectly. Let them witness that yes, someone could love both hockey and him, statistics and all.

And if their next date happened to be watching game footage while Y/N pointed out defensive patterns and Seungcheol fell more in love with every observation, well... that was just their kind of perfect.

[In the group chat later that night] Seungkwan: THEY'RE SO IN LOVE 😭 Jeonghan: Mission Accomplished ✓ Hoshi: The tigers blessed this union 🐯 Woozi: Stop watching them on dates Joshua: But the wedding video... DK: They're literally perfect??? Mingyu: Hyung named THREE sticks after her Vernon: Whipped culture Jun: Worth all the spy training Minghao: We did that Wonwoo: Statistically impossible but real Dino: So... Mission Possible: Wedding? All: MISSION POSSIBLE: WEDDING!

[yamujiburo]

You said you like sharing Team Rocket facts, sooo, what are some of your favourite facts that you don't get to share often or think not many people know? :D

Yam's Top 10 Team Rocket Fun Facts!

Jessie and James are both 25 years old

Jessie and James are NOT siblings (you'd be surprised how many people think they are). They have almost polar opposite backstories from each other.

James grew up rich but ran away from home at a young age because of all the pressure as well as his arranged marriage with Jessebelle (who looks exactly like Jessie funnily enough)

Jessie's mother, referred to as Miyamoto, was also a Team Rocket operative who worked directly under Giovanni's mother Madame Boss. However Miyamoto went MIA while on a mission looking for Mew and never came back, leaving Jessie to grow up in foster care

Jessie and James in English are named after the outlaw Jesse James which most people seem to know about. Buuut in Japanese, they're called Musashi and Kojiro, named after the famous swordsmen Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro. Musashi kills Kojiro so do with that what you will. Sub fun fact: Musashi and Kojiro's duel is referenced in Sun and Moon with Jessie battling Ash and using the sun to temporarily blind him and Pikachu before striking.

The Team Rocket trio are based off of the Time Skeletons from Time Bokan, who are probably the earliest version of the very specific trope "san-aku" (literally translated to three evil). The trope usually depicts one female leader and two bumbling men, one short and one tall. They also regularly build mechs/robots and beef with kids. In Sun in Moon, they DIRECTLY reference the Time Skeletons!

When the Johto series came to an end a decision had to be made on whether Misty or Team Rocket would leave the series. Head writer Takeshi Shudo fought really hard to keep Team Rocket (I think it's safe to say that they were his favorite characters). Seeing how Team Rocket stayed in the series till the very end, I think it's obvious to see what the end result of that decision was

The reason Jessie, in later seasons of Pokémon doesn't smack around James and Meowth as much/at all is because her voice actress, Megumi Hayashibara personally requested that the writers make her less violent. She felt it went against the "good natured villain" concept Takeshi Shudo originally had for them. On Hayashibara, Jessie's "failed nurse" backstory is based on Hayashibara's experience in trying to become a nurse.

James' love for sports and racing is often depicted in the show and is a reference to his VA, Shinichiro Miki's, love for cars and racing.

The reason Team Rocket crossdresses is literally just because the artists thought James looked better in a dress than Jessie did and ran with it

[jweekgoji]

can i please.. request more of sentinel prime tfone… 🙏🙏 starved actually.. i LOVED ur fic..

TFO!Sentinel/High guard!Reader/Starscream [NSFW]

tw: pre-TFO, advisor!Sentinel (still a huge dick here as usual!), leader of the high guard!Starscream, possessive behavior, threesome, doggy style, gn!reader but they have a valve, PiV, blowjob. word count: ~1200 i wanted to post other fic i did before, but plans changed so yeah....i would sleep less but at least i made a sex fic with hot alien robots! anon, you asked for Sentinel but you also get Starscream as a gift :р

The fact that Starscream and Sentinel knew each other, at least to a level where one felt comfortable enough to mock the poor seeker while the other wants the false Prime dead...it just never leaves my thoughts. I wonder, how was their relationship before the fall of Primes? Before Sentinel became the self-proclaimed leader of Iacon?

As one of the high guards and protectors of Iacon, you always find yourself tied to Primes. As one of their loyal warriors, you are ready to defend your home against Quintessons in a sparkbeat. It is your duty, after all.

Your remarkable loyalty is one of the things that caught the attention of Starscream, at first. Attentive, obedient to the orders, respectful, what more could a commander dream of? You eventually find yourself right next to Starscream most of the time, during your shared missions.

But it seems a certain advisor of your well-beloved Primes just can't help but force himself between the two of you whenever he has a chance. It's hard to tell if Sentinel does this just to mess with a seeker, or was it a glimpse of jealousy you see in those pretty blue optics?

It wasn't really bothering you, really, most of the time, Sentinel was a nice company to kill some time with, even though you had to deal with grumpy Starscream on your back by the end of it. Be ready for him and his not so subtle, loud expression of dissatisfaction about it. If you had any idea what a parrot is, he would have reminded you of one.

“Can't you see that this fool is slacking off his duty just to come here and annoy me—no, us!?” he walks from one side, to another, a deep frown on the seeker's face, as he tries to control his anger.

“Yes, I can see that, Starscream,” you reply with a usual calmness, which, for some reason, just annoys him even more, as he gives you a glare.

“No you don't understand!” ...aaand here he goes again.

Regardless of the rivalry between the two bots, which mostly looks like a one-sided competitiveness from Starscream's side, you all have to work together, as one. That's why you can't just tell your Primes that your commander is a pain in the aft, because their advisor is apparently trying to drive their high guard's leader to nuts! What a day, huh? Imagine putting up with this for cycles. The idea of being able to live for millions of years doesn't sound so good now...

Sentinel tends to act in a more subtle way. The way he always makes sure to walk past you, flashing you a pearly white smile of his whenever he can, or maybe cracking some jokes, that would make both of you laugh. You barely even notice how he lays his servo on your shoulder, the act is so casual and yet, can't help but gain another hiss from Starscream, mumbling another curse towards the mech under his nose.

If you want two bots to start cooperating, make them share. Even though deep inside, they're all too greedy to do so. You can't exactly say that this is...what you quietly pleaded with Primus for. Not in a way like this, at least.

Finding yourself between the two mechs was overwhelming, suffocating, even. The proximity you find yourself in makes you shiver, your knees and arms hurting and slightly shaking, as you're positioned on all fours. Not to mention, that the position is more than just awkward.

“Now, now, can't you lower that squeaky voice of yours? Even our friend over here can't handle it,” Sentinel says, a voice hiding mockery by the image of concern, his servo encouragingly pets the top of your helm.

You can hear Starscream huff in return, his own pair of servos tightening around your waist, tugging you a little closer to him. Despite the situation, where the two were supposed to share, Starscream still keeps being a brat about it, you were his first, right? His comrade first, his subordinate, his, his, his— Why should he share with Sentinel, of all bots?

“You should shut your mouth before I slap it off your fragging...”

The way your valve clench around the seeker's spike makes him let out a strangled moan in pleasure, words dying on the tip of his glossa before he even has a chance to finish them, which only gains a cocky smirk on Sentinel's face.

“You're doing so good, sweetspark, you should see his face now,” Sentinel says lowly, his optics focused on your face. “He's speechless.”

Can he really blame Starscream for wanting to keep you all to himself? When you take him so, so well, swirling your glossa around the tip and making those cute little sounds, whenever he forces your head down his spike? You can feel his spike twitch in your mouth, leaking droplets of translfuid, and a short after - receiving a groan from the mech.

Does it really take all of this just to get some peaceful and quiet moments with you three? For both of them to finally shut their mouths and concentrate on more important things to do right now? Not like you're totally against it, though.

The way they're both, panting and overheating mess right now, squeezing, holding, and caressing every smooth part of your armor makes you arch your back into the touch, wanting..no, begging for more. Starscream is more than happy to serve, his hips snapping back and forth, driving his spike deeper inside you.

If the circumstances were different, he would have held you closer, pressed tightly against his chassis, with his servos around your waist and his face hidden in the crook of your neck. Would you like that? Be this close with him? Or you're just doing that because that blue moron is with you now? Starscream might annoy you with his constant complaints about this and that, but you certainly love him more. Are you? Please don't make him this desperate.

You feel Starscream's servos gripping your thighs harder, the feeling of your walls practically squeezing his spike makes his urge to overload right now almost unbearable. Almost, almost there, you can tell this by the way his optics are half lidded, and he bites his lip so hard, just to keep his own needy noises hidden. It would kill him to let Sentinel hear him this pathetic just from a quick fuck in one of the abandoned rooms.

If only the poor seeker had any idea how much of a desperate mech himself Sentinel is right now. His spike is pulsating and jerking more frequently with each passing second. Unlike Starscream, Sentinel would make sure the other mech heard everything. The soft “keep going”, “just like that”, or a “taking us so, so good, sweetspark” constantly heard from him. He likes how good your mouth feels around him, making him buck his hips into the feeling, he also likes how good his own voice sounds (he's a self-centered bastard, what do you expect?), but he likes it even more watching the other mech in such a state. If every time he toys with and teases the leader of the high guard, he ends up in a situation like this...Sentinel would love to keep this up.

[lostalioth]

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

→ premise: you knew steve loved when you called him sir, how the honorific rolled off your tongue and lit a fire in the pit of his stomach. so maybe it wasn’t the best idea to call him sir in a mocking tone on a mission.

→ pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, sir kink, edging, fingering, mention of spanking, nicknames [princess, little one]

→ a/n: kinktober 16

Steve spent the whole ride back from the mission keeping a death grip on your thigh and facing forward with a deadpan stare. He wasn't per say mad at you but you knew you were in for it when you made it back to the base.

You had called him sir in a tone dripping with sarcasm and an eye roll when he gave you an order during the mission. The honorific wasn't new to you or Steve, it was something you learned about your boyfriend in the bedroom, he loved it when you called him sir. It wasn't a name he was called when he was a leader everyone just always called him cap.

So to hear it roll off your tongue in the middle of a mission in an almost mocking manner has his insides turning, cause it still sent that throb down through his cock.

He wasn't as mad that you said it in front of the others as he was with the way you said it. Yes because of the tone you got a laugh out of Tony in response but Steve didn't find it as amusing.

And that was how you ended up spread out on Steve’s bed, your thighs spread to accommodate your boyfriend's large frame between them. A stinging pain still lingering on your ass cheeks from the beginning half of your punishment, his rough palm. The latter half of your punishment was being relentlessly edged, Steve not allowing you to come no matter how many times you apologize sweetly and desperately. His long fingers were currently buried deep inside you curling upwards to hit that blissful spot deep inside you. That spot that has you squirming and crying out for release when he pulls them back right as your body tenses up and your orgasm is building, making you whine out at the loss of pleasure.

“Sir… pleasee ive been s’good i just need to cum, i promise i wont do it again” you whimper out, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers and fuck yourself on them or get him to move them. “See now i don't think you have, little one” he lightly shakes his head before he grabs ahold of your hip with his free hand. His fingers slowly pull out further making you let out a pathetic whine thinking he was stopping all together. But before you can protest or beg him not to, his fingers plunge inside you in a sharp thrust that has your head spinning. “Ahh~ Sir…pleasee m’gonna cum, wanna cum s’bad” you whine and mumble out, the hour or so of edging that has been going on has begun to make an ache settle in your core and not the good kind.

His fingers curl up again as they pound into you making your vision go blurry, your head spinning as your orgasm builds, growing more and more getting ready to crash into you. The sound of his chuckle rings in your ears and as fast as he pushes them in, Steve pulls his fingers back, not out but they stop their asslut of your g-spot. Your climax comes crashing down instead of over you, the building feelings dissipating in your stomach, your hips bucking and squirming.

“Sirrr pleasee it hurtss, neeed to cum” you cry out, your eyes screwing shut in slight pain as well as frustration.

”You wanted to be a little brat during the mission princess, this is all on you” he explains as his fingers slowly begin moving again though the switch in pace only has small gasps leaving your lips, your orgasm still far far away.

“I'm not done with you just yet, you gotta deal with the consequences to your actions little one” he cooed, leaning down to leave a small peck to your mouth before his free hands rubbed across your thighs that were starting to burn from being spread so wide for so long.

Steve had a long night planned ahead for you, though he did intend on letting you cum soon. He wouldn't be done even after that with you though, he was extremely worked up the entire ride back home. That three letter honorific does something to him he can't explain and he never wanted to hear you say it on a mission again. It's way too hard for him to keep his hands to himself when you do.

→ a/n: this is short, not proofread and kinda shit as im trying to rush to get back on track so maybe ill finish kinktober this year, i have hopefully one more post to do today, then just the last day which will either be posted on halloween or after after if im busy.

[allpiesforourown]

OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...

oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan

First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot

Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-

Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. He’s also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. It’s risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation world’s most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!

Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. He’s about 16 when he becomes Binghe’s student, but the thing is… Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.

He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. He’ll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the disciple’s name. It’s fine though, once every few months he’ll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. “See, I teach my kids! Last month I took what’s-his-name on a night hunt!”

By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it. 

Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe can’t move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell “Shizun!” and run over.

They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuan’s two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety. 

By the time they return to the cave’s entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out. 

When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person. 

Over the next few days, he can’t think of anything other than his student. 

(Also, he secretly feels kind of… angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but still…)

Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, that’s his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up… a reputation at Cang Qiong. 

Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! “He stopped my qi deviation” this, “he threw me out of a poisonous demon's way” that. 

For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesn’t know Shen Yuan’s birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasn’t felt in YEARS. 

About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, “This master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave… join me at the bamboo house tonight.” 

Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple. 

Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding????? 

After that, Luo Binghe……. He isn’t stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. He’s just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret. 

He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan “sparring” and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was. 

Instead he asks what they’re doing. 

Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-

Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.

Shen Yuan: uh… it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-

Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.

Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problem 

Shen Yuan: Okay… this disciple is grateful for shizun’s assistance…?

Their flight to the village is dead quiet. 

The townspeople sigh theyre so glad they’re here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, it’ll result in huge losses. 

When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. It’s like he’s suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword. 

Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. “This species isn’t even violent! We can’t kill it!” 

Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says he’ll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularly…

By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it won’t be a bother, it’s too late to fly back to the sect.

The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, but…

Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because they’re both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan. 

Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! “Whenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. He’ll be happy to take the mat.”

Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan. 

In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesn’t need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.

This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest he’s gone without sex in a long time, all because he’s been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But he’s got too much on his mind to do that tonight… He’s still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.

Shen Yuan is… someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesn’t want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by… gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him! 

(He’s not projecting!)

He’s already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! He’s decided what he has to do. 

First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuan’s door. He hears a sweet ‘Come in!’ from inside and for some reason he feels… really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. “Good morning, shizun.”

Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? He’s wearing nothing but one layer that’s not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuan’s milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?

(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself he’s making the right decision by doing this.)

He cuts right to the chase. “Once we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jing’s head disciple.” He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request – he’s not giving Shen Yuan a choice. 

Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says they’ll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Binghe’s head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend what’s going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, “I better tell Liu-shidi-”

Luo Binghe’s hand moves before he can stop himself, and they’re both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuan’s wrist. 

Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. “You should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.” There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?

Shen Yuan says, “Ohhh,” and then smiles. “Don't worry shizun,” he says gently, “This disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.” 

Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, “I don’t know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldn’t it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?” 

Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and he’ll do it without even realizing. 

[rarepears]

Back in the same vein of #shang qinghua is the grandpa friend among the Cang Qiong peak lords AU where Shang Qinghua is one of the oldest Qing peak lords and also nearly a couple centuries older than the youngest Qing generation disciples/peak lords (ahem, Shen Jiu and Liu Qingge)...

One day, the artifact peak lord presents a new artifact discovered from the dusty shelves of Cang Qiong and puts it on the table. It's used to identify parent-child relationships. Specifically, it identifies who, if any, in the room are the parents of the person holding the artifact. *Insert random reason why the artifact peak lord had to bring it out - maybe it's for a low stakes mission for some disciples to undertake but requires a peak lord to transport the artifact because it is rare, expensive, and delicate.*

The Cang Qiong peak lords pass it out, mostly out of curiosity. Or rather, a peak lord is curious about the artifact that they are allocating precious minutes to spend discussing during the monthly peak lord meeting, so he grabs the artifact to take a look. Plus he's bored, so there's that.

The artifact is round, pearl like, and quite pretty with that cat-eye sheen on it. He looks at it from this angle and that, but ultimately, the artifact doesn't react or respond. It's quite boring after 30 seconds of toying it around, so he puts it back.

Naturally, this becomes an invisible signal for the other peak lords to have their turn taking a look at the artifact and a number of peak lords reach out to grab it - but of course, Yue Qingyuan calls dibs first as the sect leader and therefore the highest ranked peak lord. He's not so much interested in the artifact, rather he's getting it to give to Shen Jiu.

Except... when he grabs it, a golden light immediately forms between him and Shang Qinghua... and the artifact is claiming that Shang Qinghua is his biological father.

Silence, and then shocked gasps erupt all around.

Someone immediately asks, "Is this malfunctioning?"

Shen Qingqiu goes to yank the pearl out of Yue Qingyuan's hands, but the moment he touches it, a golden light shines between him and Shang Qinghua.

By the end of this meeting, it's discovered that Shang Qinghua "fathered" most of the Qing generation peak lords; that Shang Qinghua, as is standard for An Ding peak disciples, went on many missions delivering goods to/from various merchants and encountered many sex pollen incidents as the mission leader was led by, at best, a senior disciple; and that Shang Qinghua solved those incidents the good old fashion way with some strangers (ahem, not fellow disciples because they bullied him).

Plus it's taken as fact that Shang Qinghua fathered those peak lords given that not all peak lords were his (as that would immediately be concluded as the artifact no longer properly working) especially when they interrogated Shang Qinghua so hard that they squeezed out from his mouth that he's managed to rizz up an extremely powerful influential demon ruler purely through acting pathetic. Somehow this weakling has the moves to seduce any and all, even the married and most beautiful.

---

(Only Shang Qinghua knows that it's only the peak lords that he actually gave a name to instead of leaving as namely NPCs in PIDW that are marked as his children.)

[illubean]

Bit of a long winded fluff/crack headcanon request: Illumi, Feitan, Chrollo, and Phinks developing the most infuriating crush on a gn! Reader who is just a lazy sopping wet dog of a person?

Reader will nap anywhere.

Will just kind of flop where ever they are when under too much emotional distress and refuse to move

Hell, sometimes they to be physically scruffed and carried/dragged to do social stuff and does the whole liquid cat thing where they go entirely slack just to be difficult. Overall reader's pretty reliable and will (begrudgingly) do just about anything the guys ask if incentivized, they're a surprising understanding and active listener, a highkey terrifying and precise combatant, and could probably be bribed to do anything from cuddle and never speak about it to horrible violations of the geneva convention for snacks and a nice nap afterward. They're incredibly easy to please and not that most/any of the guys would ever admit it but not being near them makes everything feel exponentially worse.

But they're also stubborn, incredibly low energy, and frankly seem a bit stupid on closer inspection to the point the guys are probably questioning "no- god- fuck- why???"

HXH Men with Lazy!Reader

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor, Phinks Magcub Type: Crack, Headcanons, Gn!reader

IM NOT DEADDD

Warnings: mentions of violence, mention of pregnancy like once

Illumi Zoldyck

if you didn't have any special nen or whatever he would've killed you by now out of pure frustration

you were set up in an arranged marriage because of your status, and at first Illumi could not care but surprise surprise he caught feelings eventually

and it was upsetting.

1) he was feeling something 2) IT WAS FOR YOUR STUPID ASS

ALL YOU DO IS LAY AROUND THE MANTION AND EAT HOT CHIP

you remind him of Milluki sometimes and that just makes him even more mad

every time you guys are sent on missions together he actually has to drag you because you refuse to do any type of physical labor

if he's feeling particularly nice he'll throw you over his shoulder instead

at this point Illumi is only sent on missions with you to make sure you actually do it

because otherwise you would never be anywhere on time...

you're able to handle your opponents just fine you just...rather not

which is part of the reason Illumi gets so irritated with you

you have so much potential yet don't utilize it

at this point the only solution he can think of is knocking you up (if ur capable of getting pregnant) and hoping the kids don't come out as lazy as you...

Chrollo Lucilfer

with him being the leader of the phantom troupe aka your boss you should probably listen to him without hesitation but your ass does not gaf

he's learned how to deal with you

he keeps candy in his coat pocket just as a bribe if you don't feel like doing something he's asking of you

when he runs out you begrudgingly do what he asks anyways but not without complaints

Chrollo doesn't really mind having to physically move you places himself, considering you do most of his bidding anyways

but that's only because he likes you <3

if you were anyone else he would leave them wherever and whether they get up and follow him back to base is up to them

and because he's so lenient with you you feel bad sometimes and end up sucking it up and walking yourself

he doesn't mind your laziness as much as the others because you get your job done and could probably beat him up if you wanted to so who is he to tell you how to live your life?

he never sends you on missions alone, he needs to be there to make sure you actually do it (no he doesn't he just can't be away from you for too long)

Feitan Portor

this man is on the verge of killing you.

what the hell is the point of Chrollo keeping you around if all you do is lay around doing nothing and talk back when asked to do something??

he swears you act like a 5 year old boy sometimes

when he needs something from you he will threaten physical harm but its actually just empty threats

theres no fighting within the troupe and no matter how much he wishes he didn't, he likes you

and surprisingly, his threats are incentive enough to get you up and moving

most of the time...

other times when you refuse to move or just flop onto the floor he is grabbing you by the ankle and dragging you the rest of the way to wherever you need to go

he doesn't care if you get scratched and bruised up, if you wanted to avoid that then you should've just gotten up and walked by yourself

sometimes to get you to do things the rest of the troupe offers you things on Feitan's behalf

"Hey if you get up and beat this guy's ass with us Feitan will carry you all the way home instead of dragging you" "Like hell I will"

after seeing you in action for the first time Feitan is even more upset that you're so insufferably lazy

you are quite literally one of the most valuable troupe members but you??? never want to follow orders?????? this is literally your job

you're lucky he likes you because if you were anyone else he'd leave you where ever you decided to lay down and let you die there

Phinks Magcub

this man is going to argue with you for DAYS

at this point he feels like you refuse to do anything just because it makes him mad

hes another one who tries using incentives but he never follows through with what he promises

when you ragdoll he will begrudgingly carry you wherever you need to go

this guy battles your laziness with loud, annoying and never ending complaints

and tbh? it actually works most of the time

he gets so annoying that ur like "FINE FINE I'LL DO IT JUST SHUT UP ALREADY"

if you catch him on a good day he'll carry you/give you a piggy back ride without complaints

sometimes he uses your laziness as an excuse just to hold you <3

sry this one is so short I cant think of anything

[shotmrmiller]

tw: simon's mean and a sexist.

Simon who doesn't like you. He respects Laswell, who's intel is vital to their missions. Price as the leader of the Task Force. Gaz because he's proved his mettle time and time again, and Soap whose stubborn self has burrowed under Simon's thick, knotted flesh.

Not you, though.

You've yet to do anything substantial.

As a sniper, your job is to aim and kill; provide overwatch. Why Johnny insists on giving you praise for doing what is required of you is beyond him.

You aren't taken to below-zero temperatures as emotional support. Why you're taken at all is also another mystery.

Without your gun, you're utterly useless. And Simon proves it, time and time again during training spars at base.

He comes at you as if you're the enemy, with dangerous precision and quick movements. Simon gets enjoyment out of seeing your eyes widen when he moves, like an injured gazelle who's just spotted a ravenous lion.

His grip is bruising— the force that he slams you to the ground with devastating.

Simon can hear the air punched out of your lungs once your back hits the mat, and the time it takes for your vision to sharpen, he's already pinning you down viciously with a knee to the sternum.

Useless. Women don't belong in combat. He's seen that big brute from KorTac. He'd crush your pathetic little head under his palm, he'd kick your ribs hard enough to crack and the splintered ends pierce your lungs.

He'd kill you without a hint of effort.

And Simon intends to remind you that there is no place for weak, bitty things like you in the front lines. Unless you're to be used as a distraction by flashing your tits at the bad guys.

Out of place.

Every time you go up against him, he uses his size and strength against you, just like every other person will. He launches you across the floor with a single arm, only to watch you struggle to get up and continue this sham of a fight.

Confidence born of ignorance.

As if sheer will would ever beat physical prowess.

If your feet won't touch the ground, then the rest of your body will. Through spilled blood and bruised flesh, may you learn.

He whistles at Johnny, gesturing at him to take his place, only for the end result to be the same, albeit much more gently.

Simon watches you through half-lidded eyes as he leans up against the wall. You fight against inevitability.

Pathetic.

And then one day, you come at him with a snarl on your lips. Blunt teeth that have never had to sink into someone's neck and rip a throat out, out of utter desperation. An unblemished face that's never felt the sting of a sharp blade as it's sliced open contorted into 'rage.' Frothing at the mouth like a lap dog with rabies, barking out words that are as empty as your future.

A forceful wave of his hand abruptly halts you mid-sentence, causing you to involuntarily flinch in response. Good.

"If ya have a complaint, take it to Price. I am not obligated to humor your stupidity."

He spins on the balls of his feet, leaving you to sputter indignantly.

Then on a mission, you get shot. Simon grabs the handgun that's holstered on his chest, and places it in your bloodied hands. "Keep them off of us, or we're both dead!"

His fingers are curled around the thick strap of your tac vest as he drags you toward the LZ; his pace never faltering even while getting clipped by stray bullets. But you?

He'd think you got your legs cut off. Wailing like a cat in heat over a wound above your hip. A clean in and out, nothing vital hit.

Simon has seen Gaz fall out of a helicopter, dangle from a rope, and still use his gun. He's seen Johnny cross a town full of Graves' Shadows bleeding from his shoulder, armed with nothing but the makeshift weapons he crafted on the way to the church. Price inhaled toxic gas and made it out just fine. Even Laswell was taken hostage and didn't crack under the pressure, going as far as killing her captor with her bare hands.

And you're decomposing in front of his very eyes over a superficial wound.

Landing at base, he walks out without a glance back and heads straight for Price's office. He didn't join the 141 to babysit anyone, least of all someone who belongs in either intelligence or a kitchen.