#fuck tony x reader

[spookythesillyfella]

remember when i had that dream where you [Y/N] have a sleepover with tumblr sexyman tony and sketchbook where you guys just end up in a polyamorous relationship ??? well . i tried to find a fanfic that would even slightly line up with the description. even if it was only vaguely

but uhhh ....

there were none . so i had to do it myself

[chiefdirector]

Gut feeling | Tony Dinozzo | NCIS

No.4: Hiding an injury

Sinking down into her desk chair, Special Agent (Y/N) (L/N) let out a gentle sigh, relief flooding through her as the pressure on her leg eased. She was somewhat thankful she had worn dark jeans, that paired with the dull lighting in the bullpen at night meant that she could hide the bloodstain coming from the hole in her leg until she could patch it up in private.

She had always been a private person, a childhood of broken promises and disappointments has caused her to close herself from other people, even when she truly wanted to let them in. She reasoned with herself on the way back from the raid the team had undertaken.

Slowly, one by one, the team left. She stayed under the guise of paperwork - it wasn't hard to believe, they did have mountains of it to shift through at the end of a case. Only when she thought the coast was clear did she sfhit her weight forwards, attempting to stand up. It took her a few tries but she eventually found her balance once again, thus beginning the slow limp down to autopsy where she knew Ducky kept af first aid kit for instances like these.

Except for the fact she barely made it two steps before she was grabbing the desk for balance, all the blood rushing from her head, causing the world to spin around her.

-----

Tony wasn't always the most observant, but even he could tell when something was wrong with (Y/N). She was usually so good at controlling her reactions that when she winces as she sat down, Tony knew something was wrong. That and with the look McGee gave him on the way out mean that he wasn't leaving the Navy Yard, not until he was at least sure that you were alright.

He did not pay close attention to most people but when it came to her, he could recall every freckle and replay the sound of her soft laughter in his head indefinitely. He knew that she wouldn't ask for help, so he slinked out of the room, claiming to be going on one of his many sexual adventures for the weekend ahead, but instead of taking the elevator down, he backtracked round the offices until he arrived in the kitchenette.

Tony managed to wait a whole seven minutes and forty-two seconds before he couldn't hold back on checking on (Y/N). He had a gut feeling that could rival Gibbs'; something was wrong.

The bullpen was empty when he arrived back. Maybe she was fine after all, maybe she went home. He thought as he maneuvered around the desks, only stopping when he saw her crumpled form partially hidden behind her own workspace.

With almost superhuman speed, Tony moved down the floor, pulling her head into his lap. He had one hand cradling her leg, and another pushing against where he could faintly see a blood stain on her trousers. He gently shook her. Once. Twice.

Shit. Shit. Shitting shit shit.

Tony could feel time slow down as he tried to wake her. Calling her name, nor moving her seemed to ruse her from her unconsciousness. The gut feeling was right afterall, there was some sick irony in that; the day he finally has an accurate gut feeling is the day where he loses everything.

He didn't know what to do. All of his training, both as a police officer and as a federal agent, were screaming in his head. They were commanding him to do something, anything. But he sat there frozen, panicked by a future where he wouldn't see her sarcastic smile in the mornings, or her sleepy goodbyes at night. A future where he wouldn't share movie nights, or go for impromptu midnight walks. A future where he would never get to tell her how much she had changed his life; a future where she wouldn't know how much he loved her.

Burdened with this thoughts, tony was unsure of what to do so hee shifted her once again, this time until her eyes briefly shuttered open.

"Hey sweetheart, gave me a fright there." He said, trying to bring her attention to him. He needed to keep her awake. "You need to tell me what hurts. What happened?"

"My..." She tried before stopping. She took a moment to compose herself. "My leg. Bastard shot it."

Tony moved slightly to get his phone from his pocket, dialing the emergency line for an ambulance "How'd you end up down here?"

She gave an answer, or at least tried to but the words seemed lost in her mouth, almost as if she didn't know herself. Tony wasn't surprised, by the way her body was she must have hit the ground, and hard.

"No point in worrying now, all you need to focus on is staying awake, getting better."

Tony looked down at her, waiting for her answer, but it never came. He wasn't sure when but her eyes had closed again. Gently he shook her shoulder again, trying to get her conscious for a few more minutes but this time instead of waking, her body fell limp.

Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist

@ailesswhumptober @callsign-ember @happygirl-0408

[comfortmarvelimagines]

Headcanons request for Tony Stark’s daughter and tony being overprotective when someone says something mean in public when you stim. Thank you

(Except I liked this so much it became a full fic. Can be read standalone or as WYCFTQ)

You truly never understood the value neurotypicals placed on spontaneity. Its opposite, routine was everything that kept you grounded; safe, predictable, generally within your scope of capacity. Your worst days were the ones that were shoved off kilter by a change in plans, a cancellation, a meltdown that threw your timetable for a loop. You went to school, went to the tower, went home. That was your world. Small, but anything bigger felt unmanageable. Even that was barely manageable. So when Tony announced a surprise for you and Peter on an afternoon where school let off early, you felt unbalanced.

“Mr Stark, pleaaaaaseeeee tell us I literally can’t wait. I might die,” Peter, ever-impatient and fuelled by ADHD after his meds had worn off for the day, was literally vibrating with suspense. As opposed to your drained stillness, feeling like the floor had collapsed under you.

“You’ll like it, that’s all I’m giving you. Patience is a virtue, young one,” Tony raised an eyebrow at Peter, feigning a lecture. “And you’ll be fine,” he turned to you. “We’ve practiced using your strategies. We’ll bring stim toys, your headphones, and I’ve asked where we’re going to turn the lights down and music off to make it accessible. And they listened, because I’m me. We can leave as soon as you need, and you’ve got your communication device to tell us if you’re non-verbal. You’ve got this. It’ll be good for you, and for this hyped one over here,“ he ruffled Peter’s hair. “Capische? Good. Let’s go.”

Tony drove, but kept the music fairly low key. Peter was bouncing in the front seat, animatedly keeping a running list of all the possibilities that got increasingly far-fetched as Tony refused even the slightest hint. You had to admit, even through the snowdrift of anxiety that felt like it was building by the second, it was pretty funny. Amusing, even. Eventually, the Audi pulled into the parking lot of a mall and as he swung it in to park in the electric vehicle charging station, Tony pulled a baseball cap on low over his eyes.

“Alright, you ready?”

Peter was already halfway out of the car before the engine had been cut off. Tony turned to you. “Well, clearly someone is”, he gestured to Peter. “You doin’ okay?” At your nod, he continued in a near-whisper. “We’re going to a toy store. There’s Lego and sensory stuff for days, and I promise you’ll like it. But if it’s too much, I’m right here, and you’ve got your device to communicate. You say the word and we leave, no hesitation, okay?” At the mention of where you were going, you started happy flapping and bounced in your seat. Sensory stuff AND lego? Fuck yeah!!!! Some of the anxiety snowdrift melted back down and you got out to join Peter, who still had no idea where you were going and looked like the fact was making him positively implode. It was funny just how different you were, yet how you were both going to love this place.

At some point between the car and the store, you grabbed Tony’s hand. It was grounding, which you needed when the sensory overload of the general mall walkthrough got disorienting. You stopped, fluorescent lights searing into your brain and the beginning of the meltdown urge to run crept up your spine. Peter, miles ahead and oblivious to just about everything except the mystery destination, kept going, but Tony pulled your noise canceling headphones out of his jacket pocket. “You left these in the car,” he said by way of explanation, “And we’re nearly there. You’ve got this.” Resolve strengthened, you pulled the headphones over your ears, pressing the button on the side, hoodie pulled up, determined. If nothing else, you were going to get there for Peter’s sake- he might explode from excitement if it wasn’t soon.

In line with Tony’s promise, the toy store was bliss. The lights were dimmed and corporate music absent (thank Thor, and whatever other gods are out there), and the Lego. Oh my god, the LEGO. Rows of Star Wars and flowers and little city buildings and a huge tub of loose pieces, next to a free play table in the centre of the display. Sticking your hands deep into the cool plastic pieces felt positively heavenly, and in forgetting anyone else was around you were stimming freely in unfiltered joy. Vocal stimming, too.

“Surely you’re too old to be making those sorts of noises. I mean, I’d expect them from my 2 year old grandchild, not at your big age.”

The admonishment came from a woman, somewhere between middle- and old-age, making her way over to you from the baby doll section. You froze. She meant you? You were so happy you hadn’t been masking, not forcing the happy stimmy noises down the way you typically did when in the presence of others.

“Yes, you, don’t look at me all stunned. What are you doing in here anyway? You look too old to be playing, with Lego or with anything else.”

Fear felt like it was shutting down your access to comprehensible thought. Like moving through jelly, you pulled the lanyard around your neck forward to show the woman the pin. It was a green sunflower lanyard, the hidden disabilities awareness kind, and the button read “Please do not touch me. I’m Autistic.” You felt a distressed sound come from the back of you throat, whining, that you just couldn’t push down. Tony Tony whERE IS TONY?

“Hey y/n, have you seen-“

“Oh, so you’re special. That’s nice of your… people… to bring you out like this. You know, into the community.”

“What the fuck did you just say to my kid.”

The baseball cap was off. Tony had come from the back of the store, from the sensory section with Peter, and stepped straight into the middle of the degrading, one-sided conversation you were now trying to practice your breathing exercises through. You’d practiced them a million times, with Tony, Peter, Nat, Bucky, everyone said to practice because when the time came you needed them to work but right now you weren’t sure they were enough because you felt like you were drowning. Special. You weren’t fucking special, not in the way she meant it, you were just Autistic and Autistic is fine, Autistic isn’t bad, you had as much right to be here as anyone else but that word was making your ears ring, and you felt like your head was underwater and you couldn’t breathe and your hands were flapping but not in the good way in the too much bad energy need to get it out way. You needed weight, pressure, grounding, to be crushed, and, no longer paying attention to the conversation between Tony and the stranger, you pulled your AAC forward from its crossbody strap.

“Squeeze. Tony.”

“Okay, kid, yes, squeeze. I hear you.” You basically body slammed him as he crouched down to your level, and you hummed in relief as the hug was all the input your nervous system was craving. He turned to speak over the top of you.

“I need you to leave. Now. You had no right to say what you did. This is a public place, and my kid deserves access in the way that works for them. That includes stimming, and playing, in the way that brings them joy. I hope you learn from this.”

You assumed she left, because he didn’t say anything else. You stayed, tightly held, until you pulled back from the hug cautiously.

“Do you want to leave?” You shook your head. No. As awful as that whole interaction had been, getting here was a task and you didn’t feel you had made it worth it yet. “Want to see the sensory toys?” Yes yes yes a million times yes. Nodding wasn’t enough; with trepidation, a little of the flappy happy hands broke through. Not fully, though. The word ‘special’ still echoed in the back of your mind, unwanted and uncomfortably present.

The sensory toy section was pure magic. There were bubble tubes, tactile fidgets, bouncy seats, spinners, lights, glitter bottles, projectors, a reversible sequin dinosaur, acupressure rings, a cocoon swing hanging from a frame… It was like a goldmine of sensory wonder. As you joined Peter in discovery, little by little the mask you put up melted away and you were spinning, joyfully bouncing on the balls of your feet, happy vocal stims free and unjudged. And if Tony was putting aside one of everything you showed interest in to purchase and bring home with you, well, of course he was. If he couldn’t make the ableist public go away, the least he could do was provide you with the safest, most inclusive and loving home possible.

Tag list

@peggycarter-steverogers

[winters-hysteria]

Tony: *Gently taps table*

(Y/N): *Taps back*

Peter: What are they doing?

Pepper: Morse code.

Tony: *Aggressively taps table*

(Y/N): *Slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

[tonyslittleprincess]

Just put me in a choke hold already 🤭

[sleepingnova]

Hi starry! Can I please request an x reader with peter Parker?? I just want some thing really fluffy!!! Thank you

ducky, I know it's you 🤫🫣 I'm like a year late but it's ok, we're going to pretend like time is irrelevant here. Also woah me actually posting? ain't no way

Uncomfortable

Summary : Peter Parker is tasked with his final English presentation for the year. Only problem is, it's with you, and he's got a massive crush.

Pairing : Peter Parker x gn! reader

Word count : 1k

Peter Parker hates presentations: he hates how you have to stand in front of a class full of kids who aren’t even listening to what you have to say. He hates it with every ounce of his being.

As the school year comes to a close, he realizes that this is his last speaking project of the year-- and oh my god– he almost jumped for joy when he read that in Mr. Stark’s lab. He catches himself, because how embarrassing would that be in front of THE Dr. Banner and War Machine??? So he does what a normal teenager would do: he smiles at his screen, pretending like he just got a really funny text. 

His expression drops when he realizes it’s a partner project, and both Ned and MJ are being paired with someone else. His heart drops into his stomach when he realizes his partner for the project is you, the prettiest and most popular girl in school! He’s had a slight hallway crush, but he always psyches himself out of talking to you because, hello? You’re way out of his league! So, like any teenage boy, he calls his best friend, spiraling. 

“Hey, Peter, what’s up? You’re still coming over to put the new lego set together with me this weekend, right? Don’t tell me you're about to cancel–” The receiving end gets cut off, by Peter of course rambling on and on. 

“You talking to me, kid?” Tony chimes from his desk, his back turned away from Peter as he works on something completely different, a new suit mod Peter presumes.

“Dude, I- what? No, not you, Mr. S- Tony. Sorry,” He stumbles, not missing the way Tony’s finger points backwards at him, almost as if he's waiting for him to correct himself. When he did, he gave a thumbs up and kept working, keeping his ears open. “Okay, dude, we have a problem, like a big problem. Like, you don’t understand how cooked I am. How cooked WE are. I have to work with that really pretty girl in our class for the presentation.” Peter rambles, covering his face at his so-called “problem,” and Tony almost bursts out laughing, stifling his chuckles with a cough into his fist. 

“Oh yeah, her. She’s really sweet, from what MJ’s told me. Okay, here’s what you do: I'll get you her number and just text her.” Ned rings out from the other end, half paying attention, half doing something completely different. 

“What? No, dude I can't just text her; you gotta have proper text etiquette. What would I even say? ‘Hey, you probably don’t know me, but we’re partners, and I have this massive crush on you, and I’ve been lowkey nervous as hell to come and talk to you’? Like, no. That’s how to scare her away 101. MJ and Liz are really the only two girls I actually talk to.” Tony can’t help but shake his head in disbelief, a faint smile on his face as he tries his hardest not to laugh at the kid as he apparently gets hung up on.

Peter groans, burying his head in his hands, a heated blush on his face behind his hands as Tony stifles his laughs, before finally turning around, a smug look on his face. 

“So, girl trouble, kid? Don’t be embarrassed, it happens to everyone! Well, not me back in the day,” Tony snorts, his eavesdropping making Peter sigh dramatically. “You’re a catch! Great personality and everything. Whoever this girl is would be lucky to have you. Does May know?” Tony asks, to which Peter was quick to shut it down with a “No, she doesn’t. I’m not going to say anything because this is literally just a school crush. She doesn’t even know I exist!” 

“Which is exactly why when you do this project with her, she’ll get to know you. Be your nerdy self and she’ll love you. Hell, in the two years I’ve known you, you’ve grown on me. I wasn’t even a kids person before I met you. When I lost you for those five years, I realized how much you wormed your sticky hands into my heart, or what heart I have left. You’re better than all of us, kid. You have a good heart and a good head on your shoulders; you don’t see that much anymore,” Tony pauses, trying to encourage him. “Just be yourself, kid. I promise you, stay true to yourself and it’ll work out.”

Peter nods and gradually, a week passes. Tony watches as he comes into the lab, noticing the slump in his shoulders, as if the weight of the world was actually picked up off his shoulders. Before Peter could even ask what they were doing today, his question of “what happened with your partner? Did you get her number?” came rolling off his mentor’s tongue, to which Peter could only respond with a whine and a blush creeping up to his cheeks. 

“Jesus, seriously? I can’t even go for a week without you asking.” The dry and defensive response made Tony laugh before he continued with a shy smile. “I did get her number, and an A on the presentation, thanks for asking. She’s leaving for the summer, but we’re going to talk all summer and just see how it goes. She’ll be back in New York every now and then, and I’m going to be working most of the summer, but I’m sure I can make the time.” His last phrase caught Tony’s attention. He turned, furrowing a brow at the brunette boy. As a response, the boy only shrugged. Something about getting a job to help out his aunt, which meant his lab days were going to be cut a lot shorter, but in true Tony Stark fashion, he tuned it out, already cooking up a way to override that.

That day, Peter was left half surprised and half anticipating how his summer was going to go. In his eyes, he aced his final English exam and got to form a blooming relationship with the girl he’s been crushing on from day one. Yeah, he’d tell his “Parker Luck” to go screw itself, because this was a definite win in his book.

okay, did I cook? be honest. I think I cooked. should I make another part to this of how the relationship forms or something like that?

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, and thank you to my #1 proofreader that I keep in my pocket at all times <3

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter eight

well it’s love, make it hurt series

eight: all the better to hold you down

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: You and the Mandalorian wake up after your late night at Axis and have to deal with what comes after your boundaries have been eroded.

Warnings: bdsm, heavy bdsm scene, use of a safeword, delayed aftercare, dom!Din Djarin x sub!reader, soft dom!Din, Din Djarin takes the helmet off but does not reveal his face, oral (m receiving), p in v unprotected sex, impact play, flogging, caning, boot worship (no foot fetish), emotional distress, hurt/comfort, subspace, subdrop, domdrop, no y/n

Originally written for Kinktober Days 15&16 - Boot Worship/Genital Worship/Impact Play/Sound Restriction, inspired by @absurdthirst’s wonderful prompt list,

also on ao3

3 ABY - Winter

You wake cocooned by peace and satin sheets. Mando’s warm body is pressed against you, and everything is still dark. At some point in the night, he removed his shirt, and now your bare backs are aligned where they curve. The ebb and flow of his breathing lulls you back asleep.

The world is still coming into the day when there’s a knock at the door. You’re awake enough to feel Mando slip out of bed, to hear the soft murmur of voices, to hear the whisper of the door being carefully shut. When he climbs back in, he moves slow and careful, settling on his side so he can wrap his arm around your waist and curl to the arc of your spine.

You slide your hand under his and weave it in, bringing them up to your mouth so you can kiss his long, thick fingers one by one. He groans his contentment, pulling you closer, and you nestle into his warmth.

Your head is empty, filled with fog and candy floss. It’s strange, how normal the moment feels. At home—or, well, on the Crest, you share a bed but do not linger. Mando is an early riser, and you don’t usually handle stillness or silence well.

You feel languid. Heavy, like a thick wool blanket, your limbs unspooled elastic. You can’t remember a time when just existing was so easy.

Mando’s breathing has slowed again as he walks the edge of sleep.

There’s pounding at the door again.

Mando groans and rolls over. You push up to your elbows and watch as he gropes around on the floor and then shoves his tunic at you.

“It’s Mara, with caf. She said I better have proof of your well-being when she got back.”

You tug the tunic over your head, smiling.

When you open the door, Mara is indeed waiting with a tray, mugs, and a carafe. You reach for it, but she pulls it back.

“You look well fucked,” she says bluntly.

You blink at her through sleep-heavy eyes and realize you must look ragged. You flush, and she grins.

“Everything okay still?”

“Yeah,” you say, and smile. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good. Madame said you can hang around as long as you’d like, as long as you say goodbye before you leave.”

“We will. Thank you.”

She finally lets you have the tray and goes to leave, but turns around. “Oh, and Madame said to tell him that she made a call and found another lead.”

You nod, expecting the gears in your head to start whirring about the bounty, but there’s nothing. The thought comes and goes.

You make two cups of caf, both sweetened with a little milk. He may drink black caf most of the time, but you know he has a sweet tooth.

He’s lounging against the headboard now, watching you.

You raise an eyebrow when you go over to set his cup on the nightstand.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding his head at where his tunic hangs on your body.

“It’s not the first time I’ve worn your clothes,” you say, taking your cup around to the other side of the bed.

“Looks good every time,” he says. He watches as you settle on the floor, back against the bed, facing the wall. “What’re you doing down there?”

“I thought maybe this way you could have your caf? I promise I won’t turn around. That way, neither of us has to have cold caf, but I can leave the room or—”

He takes pity on your nerves and cuts off your rambling. “Thank you, cyar’ika.”

You hear the hiss of the helmet seal and freeze. You can hear him shift on the bed and pick up his cup, taking a deep inhale and equally deep drink. Sipping at your own, you become very interested in the wood grain, searching out where the incidental black smudges form faces or creatures if you stare long enough.

When he’s done, which is too quickly, you think, for him to have fully enjoyed it, he replaces the helmet and reaches over to comb his fingers through your hair.

“A sweet drink, a sweet girl. You’re going to kill me, cyar’ika.”

You lean your head back to catch his hand, seeking the comforting cradle of his warm palm. Your brain has gone all fuzzy again, like it was only capable of coming up with the one plan today, and now it’s done.

“You still feeling under a little?”

“Mhm,” you close your eyes and set the cup to the side.

“You want to stay there, or do you want me to help you up?”

You know he doesn’t mean the floor. There’s the smallest of tugs in the back of your brain, like a little flashing light on the Crest’s console out of the corner of your eye. You look away from it and reach for him.

He helps you climb back up into the bed, and brings you to his chest. You run your hand through the smattering of hair there and press soft kisses to his skin. He lets out a deep sigh and leans his helmet against the headboard.

“You’re so sweet and obedient this morning,” he muses, running a thumb back and forth across your bottom lip. You let them part but don’t seek out more. “Look at that,” he’s whispering now, voice catching on something you can’t identify. “Is that what you want? You want to just lay there and let me take?”

You hum noncommittally. It sounds wonderful, but serving him caf had opened a yearning in you. You want to please him, but more than that, you want to offer yourself up as sacrifice, want to bleed for him, want to deserve the reverent way he’s talking to you now.

It seems too heavy to put into words.

So you don’t.

Later, you’ll sit on the floor of the fresher and weep, knees pulled to your chest. Later, you’ll give that feeling a name that feels like acid in your throat. You’ll try to purge it, as if you could cry out a toxin, and let it seep through the drain to be reclaimed as something nonpotable.

But for now, you look up at him with wide eyes, hoping he can see everything you can’t say.

Somehow, he seems to. He strokes your cheek and softly says, “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll make it hurt.”

The rush of gratitude and relief spreads through you, warming you from head to toe. You’re shaking a little, and he rubs your arm, staring at your face for a few moments longer, watching as you hold steady. You don’t have to fight the urge to hide from him at all—it isn’t there.

Later, when he sits outside the fresher and listens to you cry, having all but physically pushed him away, he’ll wonder if that was his point of failure. That he should have recognized you were too far gone in your head, that the wound you wanted him to tear open and climb into was festering.

But for now, he sees the devotion you’re aching to share with him instead of the desperation that lurks behind it.

And he takes.

He presses his helmet to your forehead, knowing you don’t know the meaning, but secreting it away for himself. He stands up and gets dressed, peeling the tunic from you with gentle fingers, and enrobing himself in full beskar’gam. Rarely does he wear it with you, but he knows you like it. Knows you like the way it makes you feel small and vulnerable. He crosses the room and prepares to indulge in his desires, beckoning you over with two crooked fingers.

You get off the bed, chilly now, but mourning more the spice and musk of him than the warmth. You take half a step before he shakes his head.

“Get down and crawl.” His voice comes out even raspier through the modulator.

You sink to your knees and obey.

He takes a shaky breath, shuddering. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.

When you reach him, you wait for no orders. Your heart is calling the shots, and something is screaming inside you to prove yourself, to earn his attention, so you prostrate yourself at his feet and give in.

When you press a kiss to the tip of his boot, he sucks in a breath. He has never asked this of you, never imagined you’d let go of your need to feel tough for anything like this.

His chest heaves, but he doesn’t move. He watches as you shudder against the heated floor, pressing your lips to him again and again. Your breathing is heavy now, too, and you rest your forehead against one boot.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs.

You whimper and finally look up at him. You look up at his face and then drag your eyes down to his cock. “Please,” you whisper. You rise up on your knees and nuzzle your face against where it lays beneath his trousers, straining against them as if reaching back out to you.

He says nothing. He can’t. His throat is tight, and all his muscles tense.

You continue your ministrations, nuzzling and kissing him through the rough fabric. The movements become sloppier, frantic.

He reaches down and cups your chin in one hand while undoing his pants enough to pull his cock out. He holds you there for a moment, centimeters from it, and he can see the strain as you wait.

When he lets go, you lunge. You’re clinging to his thigh, now, fingers scrabbling for purchase. You bury your face in him, needing the coarse hairs against your cheek and the smell of him flooding your senses.

At first, it’s the same, rubbing your cheek against him and kissing delicately on the tip, at the base, on each of his balls. You hover there, pressing in, smothering yourself in his heady musk, tinged with a hint of you.

By the time you start worshipping him with your tongue, he’s shaking. His cock twitches, straining to seek you out and take what he needs, but he doesn’t want to break whatever spell you’re under.

All the gentleness goes away when you bury him in your throat. There’s no buildup; you need to pull him into you until there’s nothing else left, pushing until you’re at the root of him. His curls tickle your nose, but you know no sensation but his cock.

It’s far messier than your pride usually allows. You’re holding yourself down; everything narrowed to the point where the fat head of his cock is hitting your throat. You don’t even notice that your body has other plans, that you’ve begun rubbing your cunt against the boot between your legs.

It’s not enough. You can’t possibly wrap yourself around his leg any tighter, can’t get the tip of his boot any deeper, can’t spread your jaw to fit more of him in.

He loses control when you choke yourself, trying to lick his balls with his cock all the way down your throat. It doesn’t quite work, but the tip flicking out in your single-minded focus almost takes him over the edge.

He yanks you off by your hair. “I thought you were going to take what I give you.”

“I’m sorry,” you yelp. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be good.” You’re nearly in tears.

He crouches down by your face and strokes your cheek. “You did nothing wrong. This is not a punishment. Understood?”

You nod, but it shakes a few tears loose.

He uses your hair to tilt your head up until you meet his eyes. “Get up on the bench.”

You scramble to obey. He’s set up what you thought was a padded table so you can lay your stomach across the long support. It’s not unlike a dining hall table, except the benches are meant for your arms and legs. It’s angled downward, pushing your ass in the air, with a raised rest for your head.

His gentle hands help you find stability and comfort, and he ties your hair back out of your face. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he started carrying a few of your elastics in a pouch on his belt; it feels like they were always there, part of his equipment. Gun - check, detonators - check, hair ties - check.

“I want you to be quiet for this, okay? Unless you’re crying. No words, no sounds. Do you want a gag to help, or do you want to try on your own?” he asks.

“I’ll be good, I want to be good.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. If you need to use your word, you do it. Promise? It doesn’t count as making noise.”

“Promise,” you say.

“Good girl.” He rubs his thumb over your cheek once more before stepping away to strap you down. There are thick leather cuffs for each wrist and ankle and another strap that he secures over your back.

He runs a gloved hand over your shoulder blades. “Still doing okay?”

You nod, afraid to break the rule. He rewards you with a soft smack on the ass.

When he comes back into your field of vision, he’s holding two implements not quite like you’ve seen before, but can easily figure out.

One has a thick leather handle and a dozen small strands, each knotted at the end. The other is a thin wooden rod. “Right now, you can talk. I want you to tell me how you feel about these.”

You don’t know what to say. He clearly wants to use them, so you do too. “Okay,” you settle on.

“Here,” he says and extends the flogger so you can grasp the ends with your bound hand. After, he trails it lightly down your back, and you shiver. Heat spreads through your body.

“Want to see how it feels?” he offers, and you nod.

The first hit is soft but teasing. The knotted ends spread the sensation like fireworks, so unlike his hand that you gasp. You open your mouth to apologize, and freeze because you aren’t sure you can.

“S’ok, I told you. Noise is fine right now while we try it out.”

You hear the swish as he pulls back, this time, a little harder. It’s incredible. Your cunt clenches around nothing, on full display to him.

“You like that, cyar’ika?”

You nod.

“No, I need to hear it out loud.”

“Yes, sir. Please.”

He grins. He gives you one more test strike, harder than before, and it knocks a moan deep from your chest.

“Fuck,” you whisper. If it all feels like that, you’re not going to be able to be quiet.

He sets the flogger down and comes back over to show you the cane. It’s rigid, unbending when you try. You get chills when he takes it away to test it, but the first strike isn’t bad. It’s not good, like the flogger, but you’ve already caught on to the game, and you know this one is supposed to hurt.

But you hold still and quiet, and the sting fades fast.

The medium-weighted strike is much worse. You jerk in the bonds and scream into the headrest. His hand is on you instantly, bare and soothing. He must have taken his gloves off, just in case. You relax into him, steadying your breathing.

“Too much?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, I can take it.”

“Alright. Ready?” He rubs his hand up and down your lower back, feeling you melt at his touch. He rubs his hand against your cunt, and you arch a little, biting down the moan.

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll play fair,” he promises. “Repeat the rules.”

“No words. No sounds. Except crying and my safeword.”

“Good girl,” he says, and brings the flogger down on your ass.

You buck in the restraints but don’t make a sound. He goes easy on you for the first few minutes, with light flicks of his wrist, just to build up the tension.

You squirm and jerk a little as your cheeks start to turn redder. You’re soaked, and he hasn’t even really gotten started. His cock throbs, and he has to resist the urge just to plunge into your hot, inviting cunt.

You start to struggle more when he puts more power behind the swings. You’re making little huffs of air, but he doesn’t count those against you.

He aims a little lower, several of the knots finding your cunt. You lurch forward against the straps, hands balling into fists. You’re panting now.

He can’t resist. He does it again, obsessed with how your labia are turning red and the way you’re shaking with the effort to be good.

The next hit lands hard enough to make a wet slapping noise, and you convulse a little. When it settles, you can’t stop moving. Wiggling and trying to grind your hips against the bench.

He watches your face, evaluating for any distress, but instead, he gets to see as you realize that you can’t ask to cum. Your lip trembles.

Mercifully, he switches back to your ass, giving your now-swollen cunt a break. It feels hot, and your clit is throbbing. It’s only slightly less torturous since he lands harder hits, bringing the thick knots down with enough force that you suspect you’ll be bruised tomorrow.

The thought makes you wetter, and you can’t hold still anymore. Unfortunately, the way your ass hangs off the pad means you can’t get your cunt close enough to make contact with anything, and you’re doomed to hump against the dry fucking air.

His next hit breaks you. He abruptly switched back to your pussy, harder than he hit before, and you cry out, pushing back desperately to reach him. But he pulls back.

“That’s one, sweetheart. You want it now or save them all for later? You can answer me.”

“Now,” you sob.

“Okay. Be brave for me.” He hadn’t missed your reaction to the cane; he knew you didn’t like it in the way you liked his hand or the flogger. But you weren’t supposed to like punishments, anyway.

He brings the cane down with a light flick, just enough bite to get your attention. Your whole body tenses, and he soothes the pain away with his hand, crooning praises as you relax.

When he resumes his efforts with the flogger, it’s clear that you’re not going to last as long this time. He tries to build you up slow, but right before a hard hit, he gives you permission to cum.

It’s too much. You don’t hear it, too much rushing in your ears as you fall apart, but you feel the cry leave your throat. “No, no, no, no, no,” you whisper, thrashing against the table.

“I’ll count that as just two,” he says. He pauses. “Check in, please.”

You gulp down air. “M’fine, I’m good, I can take it.” You still mean it this time. You’re mad at yourself for speaking right after you fucked up, and you want the pain.

He gives you both in rapid succession, the second hit landing before the first has a chance to bloom. His hand is back on you immediately, rubbing, but you’re starting to feel raw.

“You’re doing so well, cyar’ika.”

The words are a better balm than his hand, and you relax a little.

You don’t know what goes wrong the next time. He brought you to your climax again, and you thought you choked down the moan, so when he tells you “one” after, you begin to sob.

He stops. “Check in, please.”

You try to tell him you’re fine, but the racking gasps and tears are a garrote.

“Okay, sweetheart, I’m going to unbuckle these now.” He moves to unhook your wrists.

“No!” It comes out broken.

He freezes. “No, what?”

“No, no, no,” you sob, jerking against the straps like you’re a toddler having a tantrum. “I can take it. I can be good!”

“You’ve been so good,” he says, moving again to unbuckle you.

You keep sobbing, telling him to “just fucking do it, don’t do this to me, I want to be good.”

When he unfastens you, he goes to help you up, and you sob harder, slamming a fist at his chest. He catches your wrist in his hand before you make contact with the armor.

“Okay, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t do it, I didn’t tap out, please.”

“I am. Rancor. I’m tapping out.”

It startles you still. “What?”

“I’m using the safeword. I need to stop.” He sounds raw, under the helmet, and the horrible thought that he might be crying occurs to you.

You don’t know what to say, so you just sniffle and look away.

He carries you over to the bed, and you sit and wait as he removes his armor. He climbs into the bed and reaches for you, but you flinch. The sound that comes out of the modulator is like you punched him in the stomach, but it only makes you wrap your arms tighter around yourself.

“Talk to me, cyar’ika.”

You shake your head. Truthfully, you don’t think you can. Your throat feels raw, and your brain isn’t cooperating.

“Then come here, please? I need—I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“I want to go home.”

He sucks in a breath and waits for a second, pushing down the way the panic creeps up. “What'd you say, cyare?”

“I want to go back to the Crest. Please.”

Relief blossoms through his veins. He doesn’t love the idea of leaving this way, of walking back without talking about this, but he gets it. If it’ll make it easier to be somewhere you feel safe, he’ll do it. And he's selfishly pleased whenever you call the ship home.

“Let me make sure you aren’t hurt, please. And then we can go.”

You step onto the floor and hold very still while he checks you over. There’ll be bruises tomorrow, he’s sure, but from the flogger and not the cane. No other damage, and though he wants to put something on it for the bruising, he’s willing to wait until you’re home to do so.

He goes to help you dress, but you’ve already snatched up your clothes and gone into the fresher, shutting the door. By the time he’s done putting the armor back on, you emerge. He suspects you stuck your face under the cold faucet because the splotches and swelling from your tears have mostly vanished.

“Oh, the Madame has a lead for us,” you tell him, voice steady. He can see the way your hands tremble but lets you pretend you’re back to normal.

“Okay,” he says. Shutting the door when you’re both out of the room feels wrong, like he’s leaving the unfinished business inside.

If Mara or Anissa notice anything off about you, they don’t say anything. He doesn’t think they’d let him leave if they had suspected anything was off. You were very good at stepping into roles and controlling your emotions. He takes the coordinates from Anissa and promises it won’t be another decade before he visits again.

You don’t talk to him on the way back. You pull away when he tries to take your hand. He gets the message and keeps an extra step behind you. You finally speak when you’re back on the ship, the ramp sealed, and the world quiet.

“I’m gonna—” and you point at the refresher.

He nods, and you disappear behind the door. He sinks down to the ground, fully armored, and waits.

He doesn’t know how long he’s there, head leaned back against the wall, listening to you cry. All he knows is that he’s glad he didn’t move when he hears you softly call out to him.

You’re so quiet, too ashamed of how deeply you need him, that you almost hope he doesn’t hear. But of course, the door is open just a minute later.

He shed his armor right there in the hall and was stripped down by the time the door was shut. The lights were already out (his heart ached at the thought of you breaking down in the dark, alone), so he ripped the helmet off and ducked under the stream with you.

He had to feel around for a moment, but eventually found you sitting, arms around your knees, tucked against the cold metal corner. He sat up against you, reaching an arm over your shoulder and closing his eyes in relief when you practically leapt closer.

The water is frigid. Even though he assumes it's run cold, he reaches for the handle to find it set to the lowest temperature. He yanks it up, not all the way but just enough. For a moment, he feels dangerously nauseous.

“Why were you in here in the cold?” he asks.

You shake your head furiously, wet hair smacking against his chest.

“You can’t do this,” he whispers, holding your head against him. “You can’t punish yourself.”

You start to cry again. You feel ragged, like you’ve been tracking a bounty for six days across a mountain range.

He pulls you onto his lap, and you fold into him, hands tucked against your chest, letting his broad arms pull you back together.

He knows you can feel his shoulders shake, and the way he buries his face in your hair, letting the burn of his tears wash away under the water.

When you’ve both settled, it’s a silent thing. He’s not sure it’s a good idea, but he doesn’t stop you when you reposition yourself and guide his cock into you. The water is actually starting to run cold now, but neither of you moves to turn it off. Instead, he holds your hips gently, and guides you as you ride him.

It’s slow. He’s exhausted and content to let you rock yourself, holding onto his shoulders.

“Cyar’ika,” he starts.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. He knows you can feel it, even if you can’t see him.

This is the first time you’ve been this close, with his helmet off and your eyes uncovered. The darkness is inky and smooth, no possibility of being seen, and he’s not afraid of that. He’s afraid of what it means that he’s doing it at all.

“Do you hate me?” you ask suddenly.

“Why would I hate you?”

“Because you had to use your safeword. Because I wasn’t listening to you when you wanted to stop.”

“That’s what it’s for, cyar’ika. And you did listen. As soon as I said it. I’m sorry I let it get that far.”

“It was fine, I was fine. It came out of nowhere, I wasn’t lying.”

“I know. I know you weren’t.” He presses your foreheads together, gasping a little as you grind down on his cock. “But there were signs. I should have noticed.”

“Stop,” you whisper. Your hips are moving a little faster, a little harder. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Later. Please.”

“Can I take care of you, pretty girl?” he asks, and when you nod, he slips his hand between you to rub your clit.

“There you go,” he murmurs as your hips stutter. “Can I fill you up?”

“Please,” you gasp into the darkness.

You find your pleasure together, and he kisses you right before you cum.

As you come down from your mutual high, he pulls you in against him. You nestle up, still breathing heavily.

The silence is warm, now. You know you’ll have to talk about it more tomorrow, but it feels like everything is okay. There are no bad feelings between you.

He knows it for certain when he tucks you into bed. You'd fallen asleep in the hull, waiting for him to come down from setting the nav. He carried you to the bunk, and you stirred but snuggled right up, fingers tangled in his shirt.

You know it for certain when you whisper goodnight. You're both almost asleep, but you hear his soft breath beneath the helmet.

"G'night. Love you."

You don't remember it in the morning.

*title from "New Again" by Taking Back Sunday

[spookythesillyfella]

hey guys . heres my fair share of doodles from the magma i drew on with my big bro @chamom1le-t3a

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

Hi I’m completely and utterly deranged and wrote a self insert about Tony Markovich from shameless. Sometimes you have to make the art about the TV Extra that you wanna see in the world. Rest in peace to everyone but I’ve decided to focus on myself and write about the cop from Shameless being in love with me

[slamminslamminmcgill]

lalo punishing his puppy PLEASE i’m drooling

LMAOOOO okok ill only post hcs for now bc im planning on doing a longer fic w/ this concept >:33

anatomical terms: pussy

you literally cannot convince me lalo wouldn't own a collar and leash for this exact reason. im sorry but you can't.

yes he will tug on it. he loves having you in his grasp and he loves how you yelp whenever he tugs on it unexpectedly. (same thing w/ your hair >:3)

i think the whole drive of petplay for him would be obedience and praise (ORRRR punishment and degradation on the flipside of that) so he'd be very talkative. always making sure to let you know how much of a good (or bad) boy you are.

i don't think he's the type to yell but he'll always be very firm with his commands. he'll speak gently to you but he'll always have that "don't bullshit me" edge to his voice when giving orders.

yk how you can insult a dog but if you sound like you're praising them they'll get excited? yeah that's how lalo talks to you

"¡bien hecho, perrito! (good job, puppy!) you took that so well! i knew you would, though. i mean, it's all you're good for, no?"

if you've been good expect him to pet your head and ruffle your hair. lots of physical contact as a reward <3

if you've been bad he'll spank your ass raw (or your pussy 😳) w/ a belt. you need discipline don't you? he can't have a naughty little mutt who doesn't listen.

he'd love making you get on the floor on your hands and knees and look up at him while you wait for his next command 🥺 so needy for him. he wants you to want him (and you do)

will not let you talk. he'll make you bark bc he's mean. and yes he will laugh at how pathetic you sound when you do. it's cute!!!

also every session ends w/ him fucking you doggy style and breeding you. obviously.

things he'd call you/say to you: "good boy", "bad dog!", "puppy", "perro/perrito", "chico/chiquito", "mutt", "you're mine.", "siéntate (sit).", "dame la mano (shake, "give me your hand")." "speak.", "ah! no words.", "cállate (be quiet)."

[tonycries]

BIIIG STRETCH.

Synopsis. First time fitting all of him = first time losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, they’re PACKING, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, p talking, p slápping, use of “my wife”, dúmbifícation, BÚLGES, jealousy (Ino), BRÉEDING, true form Sukuna, dp, Shiu cameo, spítting, GOJO’S POWERS, D analysis, chóking, exhíbitíonism (Higuruma), cúmplay, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Tony Claus is here with a biiiig gift for y’all hehehe <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 8.96 inches

“T-Toooji- why the hell are you s-so big?” And oh, he can’t help but snicker at how you can barely even speak, barely do anything but thrash your quivering legs against the coiling springs of the mattress.

“Yeah yeah, tell me something I don’t know, doll.” Toji’s rolling his half-lidded eyes, swollen hilt plummeting down to French kiss his fat, mushroomy tip with a sappy thwack! at your teary slit. “Besides, m’barely even heh- an inch in.” 

Barely even an inch.

Toji can feel his parched mouth just lather in greedy saliva at the oh-so-cute shock slipping its way onto your pretty features. “An i-inch…Toji will it even-”

“Silly girl, ‘course it will.” You’re gasping when one big, beefy arm claws around your boneless thighs to drag you halfway down the bed. Streaking a wet swab down your achy folds - oh, the sheer size difference was so vulgar. It makes him grin, “Because m’gonna make it fit, duh.” 

Oh. 

That wasn’t a promise - it was uttered like an oh-so-simple fact.

Well, your melty mind supposes, that is what you get for stubbornly claiming that you could “take it all”. Begging. 

Over and over for days until your dear Toji had finally snapped. Had finally manhandled your poor self into the meanest of mating presses, giving your sloppy hole a mere savoring taste of the fat circumference of his syrupy pink tip-

“Oi.” Toji’s planting two swats onto the deliriously lolling side of your face. “Better not be f-fucked stupid already after all that talkin’ outta ya slutty pussy, ma.”

Hypnotized head nuzzling the sweat-slicked crook of his neck, your sloppy tongue garbles out a barely-coherent, “I-I’m not- I swear. It’s j-just…”

“J-j-just what?” Toji’s rumbling baritone hitches up into a dramatic high pitch, rounded curvature of his knees opening your trembly thighs up even further. 

“Just…”

Only to rummage a good few inches of length past your saccharinely glossy hole. Perfectly left-leaning curve of his shaft swiping down your tender spots and fucking you spellbound. Snickering, “Honestly, just loooove complainin’, don’tcha? Why don’t you ah- beg f’me, instead?”

But you can’t - couldn’t even if you wanted to. 

Because Toji was big, to say the least. 

Girthy, merciless near-nine inches of him glazed a dripping gloss of precum. And it looked like it pained him to pull out. It pained him to slip and slide a sandwiching kiss of his soft, coral pink underside between your saturated lips. Back and forth back and forth back and-

“C’mon c’mon–” he’s hissing, dark brows knitting together tight. And the way you’re pushing away his sweat-streaked strands of black makes Toji shudder. “Yer my good girl, right? G-gonna take it all like a fucking champ, aren’tcha?”

“I-I will?” You mewl, eyes nervously straying to the way he looked so comically staggering twitching between your legs. Impatient. Red and angry. It made you starved. “I will.”

And oh, Toji would make sure of that.

Making sheer white cloud your vision when he’s letting go of his hefty crownhead to thud! across your quivering hole. Before his toned hips drivel in tiny little gyrations to pump you so full - Toji’s bloated cockhead spearheading you open so solidly. And the stretch-

The stretch. 

The globular ends of his shaft mazes between your gluey walls to push you tautly to your limits. His sobbing divot buttering up every forbidden nook and cranny inside you with sappy splotches of pre - you felt so heavy with him halfway inside. 

“Ah ahh- Toji– you’re in s-so d-deep-” You’re mindlessly rovering your fingers over to feel for that fattened, cylindrical outline of his nudging further and further up your gummy orifice. Big, pearly tears bead at your eyes and make him grin. “Can feel you right h-here. Dunno if I can take m-”

But in the blink of an eye, your slackened maw is being flooded with such stringy wads of spit. Streaming in a slicked mess from Toji’s curled lips before spattering onto your tastebuds. “If ya can t-take this, then you can take all of me, doll.”

Shrieking at the plummy twitch of his split cockhead swashing another wad of ribbony pre. “R-really?”

“Mhmm, Toji’s always hgh- right.” The fat curves of his fingers smush your mouth closed. To swallow. He swipes away a few speckles at the corner of your pretty mouth, pecking an innocent smooch against your lips to wipe those excess remnants cleanly off. “H…heh- good girl. Now get ready for hah- Toji’s biiig stretch.”

Leisurely swiping down one set of his fingerpads to scissor your puffy pussy lips further and further open. Herculean hips rolling to make you gulp down more more more-

“S-See? Didn’t I hah- say this cute cunt could ngh- take me?” Toji can’t help but crush your pliant body with the weight of his muscular thighs, heaving - practically plastering his sculpted front into yours. “Take this fuckin’ cock- the one you said was too big.”

God, he thinks he could almost laugh - fucking giggle like he was air-headed at how pretty you looked underneath him like this .

Your pupils practically heart-shaped and crossing with every jackhammering roll of his hips, tongue lolling out in a way that makes him spit all over again. 

“Mhm- just one more fuckin’ inch now, ma.” Well, more like three - but Toji had the feeling you were too cockdrunk to tell the difference, anyway. And with a sodden slap! against your perked clit, he’s curling a calloused few digits around your throat. “Better take it all now.”

Dragging you - biceps flexing when he manhandles you from your throat to push you down millimeter by millimeter, suck him snugly down your elastic walls. And you didn’t know whether you were lightheaded because of that choking restraint or because of the stretch-

But then…

“Oh- Oh?” And something in Toji’s tone makes you blink your thoroughly glassy gaze to rationality. “Fuck- wait-” Toji gasps, he heaves. Willowy eyes bulging, snarling when he feels his ears pop! “Wait, don’t tell me- m’really…really…”

He was. 

Now, Toji never claimed to be an optimist - he never said he was a miracle-worker but fuck- was this real? You were really, really milking all of him? This was what it felt like being buried balls-deep inside you? 

God, he could die right now between your legs and still be a happy man.

Because he feels like his entire body has been zapped with a zillion bolts of electricity - like he’s in heaven. Stemming all the way from the lustrous little thwack! of his pulpy tip against your spongy cervix. 

“Are- are you all the way inside?” You’re sobbing out, whines clawing at your throat with every smooth whack of Toji’s fattened cock into your goopy depths. 

“I…” And Toji wants to answer - he wants to not look like a wordless fool in front of you but he can’t right about now. Scarred lips falling parted, he can barely even breathe right about now. Sharp jaw slacking open into a sexily husky laugh, “Yes. Hah! Atta girl, there we g-go. Knew my girl could ngh- do it.”

“Too big” his ass. 

In the lazy blink of your weepy eyes, Toji has the two of your sweat-simmered bodies flipped over. Your own glued to his toned front, nails clawing at his bulging deltoids, head drooping between his cushiony pecs.

Bubbles of spit and pure whines flood your mouth when the massive mountains of Toji’s palms sift underneath your thighs to help you ride. Starting off slow - stumbling - presenting you with languid, tumbling thrusts that shape your fleshy insides to every ridge and curve of his cock. 

Roughened digits pushing you down. Even more. 

“Now…here comes the fun part tha’s gonna end up with you heh- pregnant, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 10.25 inches

“Am I…am I really that big?” 

If this was anyone other than your dear Nanami you’d have huffed at that subtle brag of a question - but Nanami wasn’t bragging. And he wasn’t aware of just how much that simply sopping slide of his blushing shaft into your gooey depths was splitting you apart. 

“Y-yes–” you’re mewling out, tangling your fingers with his thick ones to trek them all over your stuffed lower tummy. And Nanami gasps at the bloated nudge of his fat tip against your buttery walls. The outline. That you can feel from the outside. The curvature of his greedy thumb smearing down the mushy rounded edges tenderly. “S’like m’gonna hngh- break.”

Stern lips puckering up to kiss away the pearly tears that lather your fluttery lashes, he’s rumbling from the back of his throat. “Shhh…if you c-can’t, my love, then we can always-”

“Noooo-” God, Nanami loved to see that smack mouth of yours wobble with a few breaking whines, falling into a soft oh! when your squirmy hips shuffle a ravenous few gulps of more and more of his inches. “Want it- want it all.”

“Are you sure, darling? M’only halfway in right now.”

Nodding - nodding and nodding because you’ve never wanted anything more. A simpering trailway of drool sloshes from the slackened corner of your mouth when he’s slapping his weepy cockhead in two nice slaps into your extra sweet orifices. 

He was long and thick - unfairly so. Equipped with heavy breeder balls that thump! thump! thumped against your thighs in the same needy rhythm as your heartbeat. Messy. The tannish blushing divot on his mushroomy tip barely even having to try to sugarcoat your goopy depths with a sweltering hot few splotches of creamy pre- 

“Then…” Nanami’s wrenching you out of your cockdrunk little daydreams, and you’re faced with his utterly loving gaze. “You can hah- hold my hand- squeeze it if it gets too…much, my love.”

As if you ever would tap out.

Because the stretch was so addictive. 

Every single one of his shuddering drives making your dewy eyes sprint all the way hidden at the back of your lids. The exact degree of his arch having you let off a few keens, legs thrashing with the depraved kiss of his sappy cockhead against your g-spot. 

“Hey hey-” Nanami’s slanting his mouth over the rivulets upon rivulets of cold sweat beading at your forehead. And in turn you desperately crane upwards to kiss his plush pecs. “Remember what we talked about hngh- before?”

“Y-yes. Simple breathing techniques ah-” you’re crying out as he sneaks in a good swab down your slippery walls. “S’best to oh! Take slow, d-deep…long breaths to relax.”

Nanami chuckles out at your whiny little emphasis, every slow breath of yours helping his dexterous fingers guide that hooked bend of his knotted cock to bump into your treasured spots. Deeper.  “Mhmm– good girl, relax. What else?” 

“A-and- focus on one part of your ah- body t-to-” You can feel your weepy cunt pulse – thoroughly full and just about all that you could focus on. Inch by fucking inch disappearing. “-to boost awareness and…relax.”

Yeah, certainly enough for Nanami to tut when your glutinous pussylips tack on even tighter around him to halt his merciless pathway. 

“Hate to see ya strugglin’, darling. Hold on t-tight-” Nanami’s blond brows simmer with a fresh sheen of perspiration at the tiny resistance. Strong arms dredging your useless legs up onto his broad shoulders. Indenting circular bruises with just how hard your heels were digging in. But oh, he doesn’t care. Doesn’t give a shit if it hurt - instead, planting a sweet few pecks at your ankles. “Because s’a bit of a biiiig stretch.” 

He’s hiking one athletic thigh up even higher, adonis-like muscles flexing when Nanami arches his back and bends you easily in half. 

Sweetly toying a few circular brushes of his fat thumb against your neglected clit. You’re at the utter mercy of the deepening angle walloping his crownhead into your spongy cervix. Dragging his wet tip in a saccharine few ribbons of velvety pre, you’re being absolutely flooded with the sheer size of him. With all of him-

“I-is it all in?” You’re sobbing out, only for Nanami to stray his hypnotized eyes accordingly downwards and gasp. 

“S’all in- ohhhh s’all in- my perfect, perfect girl.” Nanami’s regal nose crinkles with sheer bliss, condensely fogged-up glasses leering further and further down his nosebridge. “N’ s’like y-you’re gonna be hngh- split apart, darling.”

And it felt like it.

Like Nanami was trying to mold your rubbery cunt into the exact shape of him, sticky kisses of his tight balls making you shy. To make sure with every bruising circumference of his overfed tip that you won’t forget him. Forget his size.

“G-gonna hafta get this pretty pussy hngh- used ta me.” He’s tilting his head down at that addictive image of your slurping pussy greedily sucking up every drilling jackhammer, every gyration, every grind just to watch the way your eyes bulge when he’s probing deeply into your cervix. “Jus’ hafta hngh- fuck her to the sh-shape of my cock oh!”

Every clingy squeeze of your gluey walls felt like you were doing that exact thing, and Nanami can’t help but let his toned hips poke languidly into your slicked g-spot. Sloshing a few tender dabs when he’s latching his mouth around your ankles to bite. To worship. 

And it makes you sob. It makes you moan. It makes you cum - gasping in surprise at the sudden crash of your high, legs locking around Nanami’s thick neck.

You’re feeling limp - your eyes half-shuttering to a close at the flurries of stars in your vision. Barely even able to breathe let alone register the simpering smile plastering all over Nanami’s face when he locks your ankles behind his head with one ravenous hand. 

Still moving. Still aching. 

“My love…” He’s starting off. Low. Promising. You’re being gifted with a slow, slow filth of a kiss, still having his pretty lips sucking on your tongue when he hums. “Don’t think I’ve molded you ta my ngh- cock jus’ yet.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 9.54 inches

It’s been hours now - hours. 

Hours of Geto cracking open your trembly legs to mouth over that glossy wetness between them, making out with your slobbery pussy for ages until you were still dizzy with the slow tangle of his soft tongue against your treacly clit. 

Still feeling the aftershocks of your nth orgasm when he’s flooding out a few viscous spurts of cum that slop between your pursed pussy lips. Gleaming sultry little lip-stain that he’s oh-so-unashamedly swabbing along a few fingers.

“Hmmm, now this won’t do–” Geto’s popping those slender digits into his mean mouth, snickering at the awe-struck little gasp you’re letting off. “Ain’tcha embarrassed to be th-this fucked n’ I’ve only put the tip in, gorgeous?” 

He was so unfair. 

Dark brows marrying together sexily when he’s spending a sloppy few seconds pretending to think, “Whaddaya think? Can you ah- take me even when you’re being this full?”

And full you were - being teased over and over again. Fucked with only the hefty, globular curve of his pretty, pierced cockhead until your poor pussy was frosted with a thick, creamy lather of Geto’s seed. Trickling between your legs and splotching over where you were hovering over his muscular thighs, bouncing with your precarious seated position. 

Huffing, one hand of yours grapples onto the mountainous terrain of Geto’s sculpted deltoid. The other curling around his pale, sweat-slicked throat in a way that made him drool. “Been w-wantin’ all of ya you, all this ngh time, Sugu–”

SMACK!

“Speakin’ out of turn is rude, y’know?” Geto soothes over the swatted imprints of his fingers on your ass. Before rovering down, down, down, to dredge out the most sinful slurps when he slides one greedy index over your sodden slit. “Right? N’ we were havin’ such a ngh- good conversation.”

That cold studded Prince Albert on Geto’s blushing mushroom tip skims between your pussyflaps, feeding you inch by fucking inch until he stopped just past the tip. As usual. 

“Hmmm, what’s this?” Pointedly ignoring your broken little whines in favor of guiding his trekking fat crown to bump that metallic piercing against your gooey sweet spots. To bruise. “Ya want more? Heh, so filthy how ya think ngh- more with this pussy than that pretty lil’ head of yours, gorgeous.”

“You’re the filthy one, Suguru–” you’re whimpering, fingers digging even tighter around his throat at the rude smirk on his pretty face. And you can’t stop yourself - you can’t help yourself - when your hips shiftily sink deeper. And deeper. 

“W-woah-” Geto’s puffy breaths hiccup, before clearing his throat into one stray hand. “I-I mean- fuck! Can see it from the outside.”

Indeed, he could. 

You were so fucking pretty sat upon him like this, with your slobbery pussy weaving out squelching rivulets of cum. Your chest heaving in a way that makes Geto’s mouth water, his eyes locked on that lecherous little bulge where he was scouring a pathway to your very womb.

He’s giggling - delirious and drunk. “What a cute lil’ pussy- s-sooo fuckin’ tight. Feels like m’gonna break ya…h-heh.”

And it’s only when you stutter, when our drizzling jaw shudders open with a cracking Sugu– that he lets his eyes rip away. His hips jutting upwards with a pressurized push-

“Awww, my gorgeous girl struggling to take this hah- big cock? Wanna take it all but you can’t?” With a rough hand latched onto your waist, Geto fucks up into you so tauntingly, rigorous little pushes and pulls that pump you spellbound. And he’s viciously thumping open your sappy pussylips, mouth drying up at the sight of those silvery sploshes of cum. “Y’know m’not gonna fit if ya don’t relax, girl.”

“I-I am relaxing-” you’re bawling out, head lolling backwards at the utter stretch. It was ridiculous, and your blood curdles with just how good it felt. 

Because Geto was so thick. Girth more intimidating than any toy you’ve ever even seen, such a pretty blushing beige. Pricked with one chilling silvery stud at his tip and then another at his bulky hilt, right after the ends of his neat happy trail - one that you oh-so-desperately wanted to reach.

“Liar.” He’s snapping - snarling. 

Making you flinch at the lurch of something dark and hot swimming in Geto’s half-lidded eyes. Long, dark lashes batting innocently up at you when he’s lacing two sets of readied fingers on top of your sweat-dampened head and pushing. “W-wait, Sugu what are you-”

“This pussy is s-soo much more ah- honest…aren’tcha?” And it takes only one more final rapid swat at your gloopy cunt, one wet strike of Geto’s round-tipped fingers before he’s bulldozing you downwards. “Hm, bite on this.”

He’s presenting you his toned arm - mercy. 

Your teeth mindlessly clamping onto his awaiting forearm, gurgles of moans and screams concocting together as your hips buck- Losing your nervous footing to finally plant a pretty peck of your glossed pussy lips against his toned base, to finally have his orbed piercing nudge your throbbing clit. 

And he was big - so, so big that you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe at the sodden stripes of his pulpy cockhead etched into what felt like your lungs. 

With a soggy pah! you’re letting his arm go, kissing over the sunken indents of your teeth across his flesh.

“O-oh-” Moans upon moans are tumbling out of your mouth before you even realize, and you can’t help the way that your hips are bustling up and down in a filthy cadence. “I-It feels so…”

Alternating between the sloppiest drags up and down up and down his thickened length and lazy swivels that result in fat drags of Geto’s piercing onto the mushiest parts of your clit. He was so fucking big that your fatigued legs could barely even bounce up to his uprightly curved tip. 

“Yeahhh? F-feels nice havin’ me all ngh- inside ruinin’ your cunt, huh?” Geto’s leaning his body further backwards to take in every single detail of you. One arm bounding behind his head and making his biceps flex, the other helping manhandle your needy hips. And you swear you hear his voice falter, you swear you could hear his teasing baritone crack into a whine. “Look how ah- well she’s takin’ me- don’tcha think I deserve a lil’ r-reward, gorgeous?”

Ah, of course he does.

And as soon as you’re craning your head forwards, you feel the sudden twitch of his swollen tip colliding against your cervix. Gushing in ribbony strings of pre when you pry open Geto’s pretty mouth and spit-

“Messy girl.” He’s swiping away that purposeful little splatter of translucent saliva pooling at the corner of his sappy mouth. Swallowing. “Hope ya know m’gonna be doin’ the ngh- same with my cock riiiiight…” Before trailing that very same finger up, up, up to draw an invisible line at the bullseye of your womb. “-here.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 8.20 inches

“Jus’ need the ah- tip, pretty baby–” Choso’s begging - pleading from his splayed-out position spooning you - and he’s fucking his fat, ruddied cockhead into you desperately. Animalistically. Like it’ll be the last time - when in fact it’s the first. Ever. 

Slurring out a drawling few squelches from your overstuffed pussy, the way you’re glistening all your lustrous volumes of slick down his generous length makes Choso simply keen. Hulking body breaking out with shivers once your nails scrape against his sweat-lathered scalp. 

“But I want more, Cho-” That sullen pout of yours is enough to drive him wild. To bump up at least once more of his inches out of a staggering eight past your gooey ring of muscle, molding your entrance to that girthy bend of him. “Y-you’re so fuckin’ big n’ I want it all.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“Y-you shouldn’t say those ngh- things when s’my first time–” he’s scrunching his brows adorably shyly, one strong palm lifting your trembly thigh even higher to eye the teary trail of cum he’d left off just earlier from simply putting it inside. “Don’ wanna have a ngh- r-repeat of that.” 

How cute.

Choso was so embarrassed that his precious pink blush was reaching all the way from his regal cheeks, down to his bustling tip. Messy and angry. 

You’d heard that it was always the quiet ones - and Choso was hung to a T. The expansive swollen outline of his rock-hard cock smearing against your elastic walls in a way that felt permanent. Your poor pussy was swallowing up so many copious inches again and again and it felt like Choso always had more to give. 

His long length guides a sultry bash against your puffy g-spot, spearheading your gluey walls to mold around his size like butter. Swirling such voluminous heaps of cum that layer him in creamy rings.

“M’being serious, baby-” you’re purring, silken sweet tone of your voice making Choso gasp. Handsome cheeks burning bright red when he’d faced your greedy gaze over one shoulder. “I-it feels so good ngh- you’re in so deep.” 

Choso’s coral pink lip wobbles delicately, face flushing your favorite shade of red. “M-me? Don’t even know how to hngh! use it…r-really? Me? But m’just a virgin-”

“Was a virgin, baby-” You’re correcting him, deft fingers nimbling through his soft locks to pull. And it’s enough to make Choso rut- enough to make his reddening hips shovel even harder. “N’ no need to be so shy. You’re so big you might’ve ngh- jus’ ruined everyone f’me.”

And oh. 

Choso can feel his mind shatter, powerful hips working overtime to plunge another sappy stroke that thuds against your g-spot. Deeper. And deeper. You’re half-wondering whether he even realized that he was way, way past “just the tip” now. 

Nah…definitely too pussydrunk to.

He’s sucking on your kiss-bitten lips like his favorite sugar-coated candy, whimpering out. “G-good. Don’ want you f-for ngh- anyone else.” And you swear you’re catching his doe-eyes dew over with a veil of tears. “Want you to be mine.” 

Grinning - cockdrunk, heart-eyed. “Already am.”

And that extended to that greedy cunt of yours. 

Of course, it did. Why wouldn’t it? 

Choso’s on the very verge of sobbing to himself about why he didn’t do this much, much sooner when his dextrous palms smear open the drool-worthy globes of your ass to sneak a long, mouthwatering eyeful of your stuffed pussy. 

He’s so filthy. So urgent skimming two fat thumbs over to spy the way his fattened cock was disappearing between your soppy pussy lips. Fat and heavy, bullying in solid squeezed into your comparatively tiny opening.

And the sight makes him grunt, “S-such a pretty pussy. Could fuckin’ worship her heheh. I hope you don’t ngh- mind, baby, if I…”

Oh, and you didn’t mind. 

Didn’t have a mind coherent enough to think at all when Choso has to scissor your slick-flooded hole open with his thorough digits to be able to fit in the rest of his raw length. Saturated, solid ruts pushing past your tiny resistance - your poor entrance being stretched further and further with his circumference. 

He has to - he needs to because the stretch was so cozily tight. So sinful. Rubbing his ridged veins down the treacly sides of yours walls, you’re being stuffed to the brim. 

His spattering seed glomping out of you and creating such a fucking mess. Helping Choso slip and slide his thighs to engulf your own.

“Pretty pussy…ohhh what a pretty pussy.” He’s hissing to himself - slurring like an intoxicating mantra. Your honeyed squelches were so loud, answering him practically. “Baby, I want you…need you. Need you to take it allll up inside, m’kay?”

And you can only manage out a stream of dripping wet gasps puffing hotly from between your candied lips, shivering at the honeyed drip of his thick crownhead mussing up the sploshes of cum seated inside you. “G-gonna take it- ah-don’t miss, Choso–”

“I’d never.” But the one thing he might do is be rendered utterly stupid when that cylindrical shaft of his plunges impossibly deep into your gooey orifice. As deep as it would go. As deep as he could give. 

And you swear that Choso stops breathing for a full few seconds once he first bottoms out. Still regaining the blurring vision in your gaze with how you felt fit to burst, you’re opening your mouth with slight concern-

“Th-this…feels so heavenly- fuck! Why does it feel so heavenly?” Choso sounds so genuinely awestruck. Scared. Words dripping with the slight tremble of an exhilarated giggle when his sopping tip curves its way to thud! against your cervix. “I- woah th-this doesn’t feel like my fist at all.”

And every slight bit of recoil makes Choso tut, makes him plant pound after pound onto your battered cunt until you see stars. He was fucking you like he hated you - and babbling pussydrunkenly like he loved you.

You’re mewling through bliss-lathered tears, “D-does it feel good, baby?” 

Oh, Choso really did love you.

“I…I’m fucking you-” he’s breathing out. “I-I’m really fucking you and…”At your encouraging little coos, Choso only swelters with a wafting red blush. Buttony divot at the very ends of his achy cock twitching with a promising squeeze of his hefty, full balls. “...can we hold hands as I cum?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 13.3 inches

Nice - the cursed king of curses said he was going to be nice. But if this was his way of being “nice” then you didn’t-

“Tch, that pretty lil’ head of yours scrambled already, brat?” That gruff, rumbling little scolding from underneath you makes you jolt, winding sparks of electricity sprinting down your perfectly arched spine when Sukuna’s punishing your brimful cunt with a sloppy smack! 

Such a sleazy grin overtaking his sexy features at the stunned expression on your face, he’s bouncing his adonis-like knees to jostle your greedy hips up and down up and down up and-

“Can’t ngh- talk now, huh?” Sukuna’s tittering out, a few more numerous swats upon swats being pounded upon your bulging cunt. And the syrupy squelch! emanating from down below is enough to make him groan. Brows knitting, teeth sharp when he grins. “Honestly, woman- aren’tcha used to that stretch by now?”

Fuck- it would be impossible to get used to such a ridiculous size. 

Sukuna’s towering height of seven feet translating into matching cocks that make you gape, your drunken maw parting stupidly open when his twin swollen lengths plunge up into your goopy depths. Reckless. Rude. Your felt like he was fucking open sweet nooks and crannies that you never even knew existed.

That vulgar size difference was everything.

Because he was so girthy - wisps of precum slathering like torrents against your clingy walls. Tautly pulled over thick thirteen inches - and not just one, two of them - that were making you whine-

“B-but-”

“Ah ah-” Sukuna’s cutting you off, sugary tips pecking a hollowing little smooch of his candy-coated pre against that spot in a way that makes you shut up. “Can’t forget our manners now hngh- can we? Raise yer hand when ya talk to the king.”

And it was a joke…partially. It was something to make your beautiful features scrunch up in that adorable pout of yours - not something to make you wrench one trembly hand upwards and listen to him.

“S-s’not my fault-” you’re huffing out, your wondrous hands roaming all down those sinful curves and dips of Sukuna’s muscles thereafter. Resting on their favorite place at the fleshy mounds of his pecs to squeeze. “You’re just so big.”

Rolling his eyes, you’re being angled so that his oversized second tongue can press a dripping smooch against your plump clit. 

“Compliments aren’t gonna g-get me to be any hngh- nicer, mama- C’mon you know that.” And he’s sure to make it so that you never forget if the merciless few more thwack! of his five fat fingerpads down your teary slit were to say anything. “M’already bein’ nice letting you ride me.”

And ah, he’d never admit how pretty you looked like this.

With your sappy cunt stretched wiiiide open over his bumpy cocks, your entire body lathered in sweat and sheer need when he’s sinking in a few more bulky inches. Puffing your pussy lips up until you were about halfway down his raw, red cocks. 

“But ah…yer right about one thing.” Sukuna titters and the flurries of emotions that overtake your absolutely fucked-out face. Head lolling to the side when you’re trying to remember what you even said. Cute. “Lemme heh- jog that memory o’ yours, brat.”

And it was such a blessing - or a curse - that Sukuna had four arms. Four massive, strong arms that were busying themselves with driving you wild.

Two of them caressing the sultry curve of your hips, manhandling you up and down all his copious inches with all the dignity of a ragdoll. A third clawing on top of your cottony-filled head and forcing you to look- to spy where his fourth hand was. 

Sharp, blackened nail of his burly index tapping those ringed tattoos at his inner thighs. “See these?” Doesn’t matter if you didn’t because Sukuna was making your cockdrunk head motion out a nod for him anyway. “Well- then see these?”

Oh, you had to crane your head - you had to stop your condensed gasp from dripping out of your mouth when he’s swiping his fingers across those matching black rings tattooed around the very hefty hilts of his cocks. 

Neat. Stark against unruly tufts of pink. Lacquered with a glistening layer of your sweet, sweet juices. 

“Gotta take it ah- allll the way until there, got it?” Sukuna muses, plummy split-ends of his shafts pummeling even harder against the gumdrop sponge of your walls. Very same finger drawling lazily up, up, up until he was drawing a smug line across way past the middle of your tummy. “So get r-ready for a biiiig stretch, mama.”

And it wasn’t just the stretch - not even the double stretch - triple. Triple the invasive rummages inside your snug channel when Sukuna’s swirling his large secondary tongue to lap up every sliver and every bead of slick slobbering from your cunt. 

Sloshing a gleaming trailway down the very middle of his rosette tastebuds so lewdly when Sukuna grits against the resistance, hips pushing and pushing-

“Ah- ah!” Your hips are like a pendulum still deciding between swallowing up more more more and running away. “I-I don’t think it’ll ngh- dunno if I can t-take any…”

“Nuh uh, no running away.” Sukuna’s greedy hands devour every naked inch of you to stuff you full, tongue working overtime to push open that elastic entrance to your pretty cunt. He knew you could finally take it all. He knew. And he was going to do it. “Made yer bed- now- lie- in it-”

There’s a deafening pap! of your body glissading into his when with a final, determined thrust, Sukuna’s bottoming out. Your pussy lips smooching both his sexy circular tattoos with their first-ever kiss. For the first time in a thousand years. For the first time in his life-

This is what it feels like - this is what it looks like.

You were so stuffed past the brim that you could feel your pressurized ears pop! White-hot pleasure flashing behind your lids when your mouth opens with a raw shrill. 

“So? S’it feel good bein’ all ruined inside?” He’s tittering - choking on rude little whimpers threatening to spill from his even ruder lips. 

“Yes- please it f-feels so…”

And then you’re cumming.

“Oh? Cummin’ already just from taking that cock you said was hngh- t-toooo fuckin’ big?” He leaves a few ravenous bites over the tender crook of your neck. “What a heh- slutty cunt o’ mine.”

Sukuna’s realizing before you when his hips rut upwards into the tight fit to pound you through your high, over and over slapping his heavy cockheads against every tiny geyser of an orifice. Until you felt like you were about to burst-

“O-ohhh look at that gorgeous ngh- bulge.” Sukuna’s voice bleeds its way into a whimper - whimper. And if any other curse saw that heart-eyed filter in his gaze, the way his smile grows simpering, then they’d faint. “Almost makes me think of something…else.”

You, all round and glowing - and not just from the thorough rummage of his dual shafts messing up your poor insides. Outlined with thick cylindrical bumps forming their way at your precious womb. 

The sight is enough to make Sukuna’s heavy-handed cockheads glaze your mushy cervix with a few ribbony spurts of pre. Flooding. Overspilling. Enough do that he’s digging in a thumb hard to feel for the soppingly wet thwack! of those volumes of velveteen splatters.

Murmuring, “Y’know…how do ya feel about the curses getting an ah- new heir, brat? And their very own queen.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - 7.64 inches

“Shhhh, jus’ an inch more- only an i-inch, pretty.” Ino’s heaving, his plummy, split-ended cockhead gushing out a lazy few rivulets of syrupy pre down your sappy slit. “I know that you can do it…take s’more f’me?”

“I-I want to-” you’re gasping out, legs wrangling an even tighter grip around the slender curve of your beloved boyfriend’s toned hips. Mashing his ridged washboard abs against the sensitive backs of your thighs, “But I don’t know if it’ll fit…”

You say that but you can already feel the way your elastic cunt was constricting and molding to the exact sinful curvature of Ino’s swollen cock. Wanting more more more-

But how could you not?

He was so unfairly pretty - fat, burling inches that rummaged your insides with a sugary layer of sloshing precum. It’s like his plump tip was bawling with every smack! down your puckering pussylips, reddening with an innocent flush that matched his cute cheeks. 

“I want it- no, need it to ah- g-go all the way inside-” Ino’s panting begs stumble into your deliriously open maw, the slick gyrations of his tongue tasting you. Savoring. Ringed fingers splayed out and pressing down hard onto the heaving surface of your tummy. “-need everyone t-to know how I’ve ngh- ruined ya for them.”

It’d only taken one sneaking glance at the way some loser at your work was a little too close, a little too…flirty. Simply one spark of that green-eyed monster inside him for Ino to all but drag you home and bend you into such a mean mating press. 

His pummeling hips even meaner. Babbling with every dousing swab of his fattened cockhead probing into your goopy depths. Pushing and pushing. “W-wanna be good f’you, y’know? Wanna be…yours.”

“Ngh- s-sweet-talker-” You’re spitting out, heart lurching oh-so-traitorously at the little blush dusting its merry way all over Ino’s handsome cheeks. He’s ready to burst into flames when you’re hiccuping, “Fuck me, baby- with all of you.”

Those words are barely out of your mouth - the thought barely even registering in Ino’s fuzzy scribble of a brain right now before he’s tugging his hips back a sodden inch and sinking in.

“Mhmmm- don’t worry, pretty-” Ino’s gruffing, scorching beads of sweat forming a dotty mosaic over his blissed-out features. “-Taku’s gonna make it fit- h-heh, yeahhhh m’gonna make it ngh- fit-” So snug that he can’t pound into the way he wants you. Huffing at the resistance, he’s latching onto your peaked clit with a pointed pinch. “-or m’gonna die trying hah.”

A promise - well and fully intended to be made true. 

Abs flexing with every tight little grind that whacks against your sweetened spots, short. Punctuating. Harder and harder until you’re hearing a watery pap! and Ino’s finally - finally - driving you overwhelmingly full with the ruthless dab of his angry, peach-pink shaft impaling open your deepest insides. 

“O-oh.” Ino’s breathing out, chestnut eyes bulging out almost comically at the sloppy trawl of his rock-hard cock in and out. “It fit- it…it actually fit. Mhm- s’that too big for ya, pretty?”

And Ino loved your smart mouth - he loved whatever honeyed syllable would drivel from your pretty lips. But seeing you like this - gasping, and fucked oh-so-dumb on his cock - Ino thinks that he could cum right here and now.

“R-right now?” Your breath hitches, chest heaving to steady your gulping inhales. Impossible with the way that his girthy, rotund cockhead was skimming against what felt like your lungs. 

But oh, you weren’t the only one with your sanity dancing away from you with every plunging jackhammer. Ino looked so ruined - his pretty eyes doeing down till they were almost closed, drizzles upon drizzles of drool flooding out and slicking down his mouth, hanging pathetically open when he’s realizing-

Shit, did he say that out loud?

Oh, well. 

“And so wh-what?” Ino’s huffing out - meant to be much more smug than the pouty whine it actually came out as. Lower lip wobbling out in a watery way, “Wanna fill ya u-up until yer overspilling, sweetness- until I can’t hahah- fit again.”

He’s making such a sappy mess down there as if already fulfilling those promises. One clammily prespired hand latching around your throat to crane your neck into a tender kiss. 

“Wanna fuck a b-baby into ya- ngh- fuck ya until they know I did it-” He’s snarling - alabaster canines beared in a giggle. “Till they s-see you all ah- round and glowing and see me me me me- that coworker’s gonna know that I-I did that. That I fucked you s-so full.” 

Heavy thighs planting flat onto the cushiony mattress, and from the woozy corner of your eye you’re spotting a few bedcoils spring brokenly upwards. “Gonna gimme that, aren’tcha?” He’s breathing. Begging. Eyes fuzzy with a heavy clingfilm of utter loving that he was bestowing upon you with every pap! pap! pap! “Make me a dad, mama?”

Shrilling out hoarsely, “Yes- yes yes yes- I- fuck! M’close, Taku…m’gonna cum-”

Ah, just as you do - Ino plants a gliding thwack! against your g-spot so hard that it makes your eyes criss-cross with utter pleasure. Tumbling into your orgasm headfirst and dragging your dear Ino with it, too. 

Each peaked crevice of your high being followed by the wettest slap of his lathering cum into your most tenderized spots, fucking his seed into you so viciously that you feel bloated. Eyes drooping fatiguely, your nails dragging red, red patterns down his rigorously flexing back. 

It was heaven. 

You can’t think of anything but the slow puddle of viscous seed dribbling from between your slippery slit, nothing but how full you felt. Barely even noticing the creaking protests of the bedframe that was suspiciously sagging from one end.

Broken. 

And when Ino’s blinking his vision back - letting his mouth drool at the sloppy slosh of his ribbony sap clinging around him like a second skin - the only thing he can utter is a low, “S-so…I don’t think we’ve ngh- made our son just yet.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 11.01 inches

“Aw c’mooon, my girl. Too big- s’too big, riiight?” Fuck- it was. And Gojo already knew with every cocky snicker that wafted over the back of your neck like an oven. He’s plumping his lips down your spine in a sleazy kiss. “Jus’ admit it n’ I might play…nice.”

As if. 

The strongest would never play nice when he had you like this.

When he had his fat, strawberry pink tip French kissing your gluey walls so open. Bumping up against your precious insides to indent every ridge and curvaceous vein against your overstuffed pussy - so staggeringly full. But he still wasn’t done. Barely. 

So ridiculously long and pretty - a size to match up that mean ego of his. Eleven inches? He didn’t even have to try to drive you insane. 

Gojo was flushed the most candied palettes of pink and red, all the way up to his thickened base. Slender fingers curling dexterously around the white tufted hilt to slowly empty out thick drags of buttery pre just past your throbbing g-spot. “Unless ya want-” Inching ever-so-sinfully closer. “-more?”

It was just a little tease - really, it was. Something to make your cute pout jut out, and your gooey insides clench.

But what Gojo didn’t expect was for thick, viscous droplets of saliva to splatter from between your lips at the sheer mind-numbing stretch. Babbling out into the spit-lathered mess of a pillow. “I- I want- ngh- Toru…”

“Yes yes, your dear Toru is hah- here.” And shit, he can’t help but saddle a strong forearm around your neck to hoist your lolling head upwards in a rude headlock. Making such a mess of glimmering dribble seep into the bulging bicep around your neck. You’re feeling the sappy drag of his long tongue down those puddled splatters of spittle, “Talk to me…tell me…complain about how big I am- I know you want to.”

You’re gasping when he’s leaving a pretty stinging smack! against your treacly cunt, muscular thighs shuffling against your own like a second skin. “I want…”

Every garbling syllable of your pretty voice making him twitch. Depraved. “Mhm—?”

“All of it- More.”

More?

CRASH!

Shit- maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed how the flickering yellow lamp at your bedside shatters into a zillion pieces. And how Gojo was much the same. 

Slamming one dexterous free palm down onto the already-splintered headboard, you’re catching it crack underneath his vice-like clasp when Gojo hitches his breath and pushes. Wordless. Keening. Mean maw slacking parted with a low ah! ah! ah! at the sweltering hot pulse of his ever-hardening cock.

“S-Satoru did you just get-” bigger. It’s the word you can’t bring yourself to utter even if you wanted to - because Gojo’s swatting his doughy palm to entrap your whiny words. 

Hiding your watery sobs when his engorged dick ravines past the adhesive-like grip of your slick-flooded entrance to perk up even harder. 

Rasping, “Shhhh sh sh- Another word outta you n’ m’gonna cum.” Entire herculean body hitching - shuddering - to pin you to the velvety sheets like he was practically melting into you. You’re sandwiched into the sweaty glissade of his rugged washboard abs. Jolting at the miniscule lightnings of blue that bolt from his lazily lidded eyes, “Tell me how badly ya want the hngh- biiiig stretch, sweetheart.”

So embarrassing, “I-I want the…biiig stretch, Satoru.”

He’s humming with utter delight, “Louder- more.”

“Please.” Legs kicking in impatience, “I want it- w-want your hck! biiig stretch, Toru. Want it so bad-”

“Then, b-brace yourself…heh.”

Something’s cracking - breaking - only hours and hours later do you realize that it’s your poor mahogany bedframe underneath Gojo’s utter strength. 

Knuckles whitening when one sickly sweet rut has his toned abs careening into your mounds of flesh. And that tight little bout of resistance makes him stutter out a hiss, teeth clenching. “Christ, s’fuckin’ tight- n-need more.”

You words had done such a number on him. 

And Gojo wanted more - needed it. More more more-

With a sopping pap! Gojo’s sludging his hefty length out from your elastic hole, purposefully peaking his inflated veins against those treasure troves of your tender spots. Emanating out such a sinful squelch! of wiry slick-filled slurps the moment his globular crownhead is popping out of your gooey cunt. 

“L-look downwards, my girl-” he’s mumbling, tongue slurring those pesky little whines into his words. And oh, Gojo himself can’t bear to spy his ravenous gaze down below because of that dangerous little high building up at his tight, nudging balls. Can’t bear to do anything but let his sapphire gaze droop half shut. 

Tumbling your head down, “Toru what do you- oh!”

Gojo was so fucking needy. That mouthwateringly sculptured arm around your neck taking its second favorite position to warp around his sweltering hot cock and squeeze. 

You can only watch when he’s beading out wispy little ropes of precum that gloss your pussy lips a creamy white. Connecting delicate little ropes of your sweet, sweet juices to his bawling cockhead.

It was soiling his hand ivory, his wrist, his cloudy happy trail - he was being so messy. 

“Yeah- see this? Take a loooong hah- hard look, sweetheart. Yer gonna take this entire c-cock, m’kay–?” Gojo’s nuzzling his sweat-glimmered cheek down your down, stray strands of white sticking to your skin. Pumping his fist harder - harder. He’s scooping up a syrupy few dredges of sap to poke into your awe-struck mouth, “Gonna take i-it all. No matter how big- mhm?”

You’re whining when his intimidating length nestles between your thighs and pulses, the very brim of his curved tip swiping a sweltering hot drag of pre about half-way down your tummy. The size difference looked so sinful.

And you’re barely nodding - barely whimpering out a polite yes, please - before your mind shatters with the feeling of being split-apart. With every hidden nook and cranny caverning your sloppy pussy being stretched to the max.

“Yeah- yeah yeah c’mon-” Gojo’s begging. Pearly white teeth digging into his pulpy lower lip when his blushing shaft fringes down your clingy walls. “Go inside- fit- please- need ta give m-my girl everythin’.”

Needed - not wanted. 

Gojo doesn’t even have to try for his left-leaning curve to locate your most coveted spots, spurting out waterfalling little geysers of slick from between your thighs with every gulping inch.

“Oh- oh mmpf!” You’re mewling when his furious divot mashes into your nearby g-spot. Easily. Too easily that you’re half-wondering whether he’s using his Six Eyes. “It’s s-shoo deep.”

You’re being jostled in a sultry dance back and forth when Gojo’s planting rummaging pound after pound just to fit inside. The slamming smack! smack! smack! of his muscular thighs imprinting against the backs of yours fucking out each and every coherent thought out of your mind. 

And with absolutely no hesitation, he’s skimming numerous buzzing fingertips from one hand over to toy around your clit and pinch. Barely even realizing the startling spark of jujutsu that makes you yelp-

“Toru- wh-what did we say about…” Shrilling shrieks withering away on your tongue when- what were you complaining about again? Gojo’s incredible inches sheath their cozy way into your gummy cunt - fully. “O-oh.”

Oh was right. 

Because he had finally bottomed-out. Finally. Gasping at the sudden thud! of those ladder-like abs smooching the pretty curve of your ass. The bouncing recoil of his swollen cockhead against your pulpy cervix. Gojo can’t help but run his hands over your jiggling flesh to make sure - to register that this was real. 

Having your slobbery pussy wrapped around every needy inch of him? This must be a dream.

He’s struggling to catch his breath, gulps sounding high. Thumbing apart your sodden pussyflaps, Gojo’s rich baritone hitches adorably. “You- yer really m-milkin’ my entire fuckin’ cock…” 

Bleary eyes snapping open and veering pathetically cross-eyed, Gojo’s snowy brows scrunch achingly together when both stumbling hands latch onto your waist and pounces a harsh thrust. Thickened, hefty balls swatting your clit heavily. Once. Twice. 

And the third - barely even a swirling gyration of his slicked-up cock drilling into the spongy flesh of your cervix before he cums. Cums and cums so hard that it feels like copious orgasms upon orgasms piling all into one.

Feeling like he was bursting - just like the wreckage of generators across all twenty-three special wards in Tokyo this very second. Electricity flickering, Gojo’s eyes glowing, and you two don’t even notice the way the bed crashes! down onto the carpeted floors as if it had been hovering a slight inch.

“W-wait tha’s cheating-” he’s puffing out furiously, but he can’t stop. Luscious ounces of seed gumdropping out from his divot to laminate your poor cervix - no doubt battered and bruised at this point. A fat thumb of his caps your leaky slit with the voluminous dredges of splattering cum gushing haplessly out of you. “This is s’pposed to s-stay inside, sweetheart.”

It was too much - you were overfilled to the very brim of your glistening pussy folds. 

But Gojo didn’t sound upset - not in the slightest.

No, in fact, he was smiling. 

Cerulean pupils molding practically heart-eyed, a burning blush washes over those handsome cheeks and all the way down to his still-twitching, still-hard cock- “Sooooo…marry me?”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - 8.89 inches

“S’for your own good, angel.”

“B-but, Hiromi–” Oh, you were already winning - and you knew it - you’re feeling that perky little dab of syrupy pre that butters up your insides. Just the mere sound of your voice enough to make Higuruma twitch, “I want you now.”

To make him jolt, to make him sigh. 

Long, dextrous fingers of his tightening around that vice-like little restraint of his tie shackled around your neck - just the scratchy dig of that velvety fabric into your tender flesh makes you lightheaded. 

“I already told ya.” Higuruma’s sighing, sleepy eyes peaking up at where your trembly figure was riding the fucking soul out of him. Or, at least, was supposed to. “Don’t want ya hah- hurtin’ yerself the first time ya take me, don’t want my girl’s pussy sore.”

But what you were aching for right now was him. 

Bucking your hips in a stubborn little up and down that makes his thin lips curl, canines bared. Feral. “Fine- slutty angel.”

And you barely have the time to process his words - to process the stinging sensation of his formal office tie constricting around your throat. Before Higuruma’s dragging you down with a thorough flick of his wrist, leveraging the merciless tightrope of his tie to feed your needy cunt inch by fucking inch. 

He’s not stopping when you gasp, not even when big, globular bouts of tears lather your lashes dripping wet. Only pulling you to him like some glorified sex toy- 

“H-Hiromi-” your clammy palms clasp around his pale, bulging biceps to squeeze. Spine arching at the way his staggering size was opening you so deliciously.

“Mhmmm, m’here m’here. Biiig stretch, isn’t it?” Bouncing those bulky, muscular hips of his with years upon years of practice in battle. And right now you were on the receiving end of his ruthlessness, your pussy lips being smeared agape at the hefty cylindrical shaft being bullied into you. “Easy there, girl. Easy. You can take m-my ngh- big cock.”

And Higuruma barely even had to try to get you all shattered on his cock like this was. Because his cock? The absolute prize of your wettest dreams. 

He was so thick and long, nearing nine inches that bumped his throbbing walls in a lewd little massage down your precious treasure trove of sweet spots. That left-leaning angle of his curvature was so droolworthy, meshing a sodden French kiss easily against the bullseye of your g-spot.

But what had you spellbound - what had you so dizzy - right now wasn’t just the stretch. No, it was that tiny, orbing little piercing studded right underneath Higuruma’s deeply indented slit. 

“Hey, doin’ ah- good, angel?” The chilling patch of his metal stud wrenching out the cutest little whimpers from your heated mouth, falling further and further slack with every pretty peck. Every tiny swab of his length being overstuffed into you. “Only an inch more- juuust an i-inch more n’ I want ngh- you to milk it for me.”

“M-me?” You’re pointing at yourself, as if there was anyone else here in this heady bedroom.

“Tha’s right-” Blinking away the clingy film of lust surrounding your eyes, you’re finally noticing the air of something instinctually primal in your dear Higuruma’s ravenous gaze. So at odds with the gentle kiss placed onto your prespired forehead. “While I get some hah- work done, angel.”

Your hips tense when he’s reaching out to grab the phone that had been buzzing on the bedside drawer for quite a while now. Only to get jostled into motion once more with a soft swat! planted onto your jiggling ass. 

Turning the flashing screen to emblazon your vision with the name, Shiu Kong (Work) 

Oh?

Oh.

At your filthy nod, Higuruma’s puffing out a shuddered bout of laughter. Before sliding one fat thumb across the screen and answering, “Hello? Shiu?” Head tilting to the side, another manhandling haul of Higuruma’s massive palm keeps you riding him. “Yeah, I can heh- talk right now.”

“S-so mean–” you’re mumbling, thoroughly not expecting for him to hear and punish another smack! against your ass. 

You couldn’t hear the response - you didn’t even realize that the audio could even hear you before he’s babbling on. 

“The meeting- Oh, that? Ah, jus’ my lovely wife.” Gasping, because Higuruma hadn’t proposed…yet. And the way he was sidling your gummy cunt with hefty, vicious pound after pound to lose himself - to melt into your unsteady arms - made you think he just might. Soon. “She’s uh…strugglin’ with somethin’ ya see.”

Fuck- he knew exactly how to make you work. 

But you knew exactly how to work. 

One hand splaying out between the sweaty valley of Higuruma’s plush chest, you’re eyeing with satisfaction as his dark brows raise. Squeezing that overpriced fabric wrapped around his thick fingers to muffled your leaking whimpers - to choke-

Only for his sharp jaw to fall parted, breath hitching when you jerk your fatigued thighs and ride. Deeper. Sloppier. Further and further until with a heaving shudder your ass smacks against his with a ringing pap!

Loud. 

Undeniable. 

His hefty breeder balls colliding into the jiggling curve of your ass, Higuruma’s massive cock embedding a few perfectly rounded bruises into the back of your pulpy cervix. Streaking a lazy line drawn by his bulbed piercing across each and every sweeping fissure inside you. Once. Twice. 

Again and again-

“A-ah, what?” He’s bumbling absent-mindedly into the speaker, and you’ve never seen him sound so shaky before. Deep baritone cracking into a few whimpering cracks towards the end when one of his thumbs swipe your puffed-up pussylips to take a long look at that heavenly sight. “Oh…oh yeah. My wife- sh-she got it…finally.”

And it’s only when you’re drawing out the most whipped splatters of slicked pre, when you’re steadying your precarious hands onto his sculptured biceps and slamming a sloppy cadence. Humming, “Y-yeah. Real cute, isn’t she?”

Only when Higuruma looks like he’s on the very verge of ending the call that you’re musing how Shiu must know already.

That blasphemous question on the very tip of your tongue before Higuruma’s attractive eyes widen, chuckling out at words exchanged over the phone that you couldn’t make out. Yet. 

“Oh?” Yeah, Shiu totally knew. Dark eyes boring right into your heart-eyed depths, and when you nod he’s cracking a smile. Pussydrunk. “Mhm, sure, we can videocall.”

A/N. HIGURUMA NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING???

Plagiarism not authorized.

[winters-hysteria]

basically tony gives reader something that takes away their control over their body and makes them follow orders (experiment, it was consensual and reader offered). then they see a package that says "so good it'll make you want to dance on the roof" so they do. on of one of the tallest buildings in the city. so basically they're up there dancing and everyone's below them freaking out

"here you go, kid." tony handed bruce and i the drink with the "control juice" mixed in. he was testing it to see if he could actually control someone. i took it from him and gulped it down, shivering at the cold. bruce sipped his cautiously, wondering if it really worked.

"yeesh, next time don't make it quite so icy, tin man."

"speak for yourself kid, ice is nice." he paused, thinking. "hey! ice, nice, that rhymes!" he earned a snort from thor at the stupid dad joke, and turned to me grinning. "how ya feel?"

i rolled my eyes at him, then looked at my arms. "i don't feel any different than i did two minutes ago." i sniffled, looking at him. "i'm gonna go to the store and grab some costanzo rolls since-- *AHEM* --BUCKY didn't get any even though it was written on his arm."

"(Y/N)! i'm sorry! jesus!" the ex-assassin gave me a playful half-lidded glare, licking his lips at me.

"iM sOrRy, JeSuS!!" i retorted, hiding the soft blush that dusted my cheeks. "i'll be right back. steve, rhodey, you got babysitting duty." i snorted, hearing tony's noise of distress and steve's noise of protest. "i'll be back in twenty."

"yeah yeah, just hurry." i grabbed my sweatshirt (it was really bucky's, but i steal everyone's stuff if it fits me.) i threw on my cons and opened the door, heading out into the brightly lit, bustling city. "how can a place be so busy at night?" i wondered to myself.

i found the grocery store pretty easily. it wasn't too far away from avengers tower, and it was a small store, comfortable and safe. i quickly made my way to the rolls, picking up two bags. i turned to browse the other aisles for perhaps some chips, or a different snack, when it hit me. and it hit me hard.

all the sudden, i was on the inside looking out. i couldn't control my own hands, dropping the bags of rolls i held in each. i mentally panicked, but it didn't seem to do anything to my body. i moved through the aisles, looking for my next command, when i saw a box with a slogan that said "so good it'll make you want to dance on the roof!"

that seemed like a good idea.

back at the compound, steve started to get worried. "why are they taking so long? it's been almost an hour."

"not sure cap, but i think they'll be okay. my kid after all. knows how to fight for themselves." tony was tinkering with a little robot he'd made to wake (Y/N) up in the morning because it was so hard to.

"you know, i think your 'control juice' works, tony. bruce has been sitting here for a while, right after i told him to. that's not normal." nat's voice floated in from the other room, striking anxiety into tony's heart. "rhodey! turn on the news! (Y/N) is apparently on it."

rhodey grabbed the remote and turned the living room tv on, then tossed the remote to nat. "there you go."

on the screen was a live feed of a person dancing on a roof. a roof of a really tall building, and they were dancing right at the edge of it. "tonight we bring you the avenger's (Y/N), who seems to have lost their mind." the news reporter's voice faded out as tony focused in on the way they were dancing. "...we are trying to bring them down. more at 11."

"holy shit." steve whispered.

every single person in the room except for bruce looked at him and said "language!"

"oh my god, you guys are never gonna let that go." tony shook his head in response, and looked around the room. "we gotta go get my kid."

(your pov)

i was panicking. my body moved like water, landing in all the right steps, but i held so much fear that i would fall. i could see red and blue lights flashing beneath me, their spotlight trained on me, but i couldn't stop moving. i wished that someone would come save me. i pulled myself into a backbend, feeling my spine pop every time i moved further. i cried out in mental pain, my body jolting. i immediately went limp, realising the effects of the juice were wearing off, but i could end up falling if i didn't just let it happen.

then something slammed into me a lot harder than i would've liked and i screamed. i heard sam's voice in my ear though, telling me it's just him, and felt relief flood through my veins. "holy shit sam, i can't move my legs."

"i know! the control juice works!" he yelled, finally landing on the ground outside the compound. i fell to my knees, right in front of bucky. he laughed.

"didn't know ya wanted it that bad, doll."

i groaned at him, rolling my eyes and taking sam's outstretched hand to help myself up. "uh-huh, you wish."

"i do, but we can all dream, huh."

"BUCKY!" i shrieked, laughing. "you can't just say that!"

"alright doll. but let's get you inside, your dad's having a coronary worrying about you."

"okay!" i replied. we went back inside. i was safe, and i could control my body again. now i just had to watch out for my dad's drinks.

[krewekreep]

Im so sorry I can’t actually cause people are taking this advice 😭 im just gonna have to be an « asshole »

Let’s go in reverse: I agree the trend of mature, 18+, gritty/graphic, ROUGH, « dark » fanfics are a problem! But why? It’s an opportunity for larger conversation about the fact TOO historically « women’s literature » (don’t get annoying about semantics this is how historically women dominated genres are referred as… cause yall sensitive and don’t know shit to actually disagree💕) . HISTORICALLY!!! WOMEN’s LITERATURE IS RAUNCHY, NAUGHTY, HORNY, etc.

If you don’t know, now you do…hey! Women don’t get to enjoy ANYTHING in a public facing forum…so those dark horny thoughts gotta go somewhere…and that’s quite literally aspects of the origins of the « romance » genre in general…

Now back to BLACK PEOPLE. Again, old tumblr hoe—celebrated ten years of my OG blog 2023…I’m 25…I went to an arts school and am published in a Harvard Journal (Transition Magazine #121 & among other things had FICTION published and acknowledged by scholastic in high school…my story is included in the purchasable edition of Best Teen Writing of 2017 Scholastic…)

Im only giving SOME of the resume cause people LOVE to debate and in this instance this is just someone with more awareness and actual training clarifying some inadvertently HARMFUL advice…

BLACK PEOPLE BLUSH! IM A DARKER MEDIUM TONED BLACK WOMAN WITH RED UNDERTONES AND I HAVE BEEN EMBARRASSED IN MY LIFE (like the white girls) and had my blush VISIBLE AND POINTED OUT! That was just a weird and annoying thing to see someone STAND ON? You saying someone lightskin…WHO IS BLACK…can’t blush? Like I know I’m being nitpicking but you can’t give advice if you can’t also take someone pointing out it’s weaknesses…😩🫤 that makes zero sense right?

*The Youthforia foundation example is the ELITE example now to scientifically prove and disagree with folks who say black people don’t have undertones…yes we can blush

Nooooooo nice intentioned people in the replies « flushed » « blushed » « mewled » whatever the fuck like just use the damn word 😭 someone is gonna suddenly STOP and close your fanfic cause damn…the black girl blushed? UNREALISTIC! Like im sorry yall take the internet too serious onfg 😭😭

Respectfully…the portion about hair…is to each they own cause everyone gonna call texturism or some weird shit when no! A lot of black women across the hair curl spectrum can…maneuver their hair however…if you are black and not…projecting your experience onto everyone else…like I went to a black school in a black community…in New Orleans…I’ve seen all kinds of hair and the things you can do…this is with the UTMOST respect to my sisters but like your hair issues are not universal and I can’t wait for black women to stop doing that about our looks, bodies, hair, etc…

FOR NON BLACK WRITERS: Baby if it’s too out of bounds how about you just don’t write black characters? From the girl who has sat in front of white published authors who visited my arts high school with terrible narrative attempts at USURPING black narratives for their own….i know how to challenge actual bad faith writing. Look my loves…if you know someone black ask them to read it—if you don’t know anybody black respectfully besides diversity points and seeming to woke id challenge you to give me a reason you need a black character…heart of hearts it’s gonna be just because…so let’s also too check our need to be « inclusive » just coming off as hand fisted diversity…ANYWAY!!! LMAOOO

For my black writers: When did we all become the same? I’m so confused? Maybe cause I’m very GROWN and act like it I don’t get and am growing tired of the necessity for their to almost be prescriptive RULES on how to BE black and engage with blackness…write my loves. That’s why so many people end up like SpongeBob with a fantastically designed « THE » and nothing the fuck else…you gotta fall to figure out riding a bike right? Just WRITE AND SHARE IT! discord, Twitter but find spaces just for that! Waiting on acknowledgement from tumblr, Twitter, wattpad (I don’t know wtf yall are on now fr anyway) is why yall stay in a insecure headspace too…too hungry for the likes and love but can yall admit that??? just fucking write bro 😭 before you literally continue your unchecked compulsive nature to not be disruptive or a problem…(cause yall tryna make the internet a safe space and it’s the internet like stop and go find community in real life no tea no shade I swear) just write…it’s inconsequential TUMBLR SMUT LIKE STOP THIS ISNT SIGNING THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE WE ARE ALL COLLECTIVELY HORNY, CURIOUS PEOPLE IN LOVE WITH REAL LIFE AND FICTIONAL PEOPLE WE WILL NEVER BE WITH!

IF JUNGKOOK MAKES THE BLACK GIRL FUCKING BLUSH SHE FUCKING BLUSHED! IF NANAMI RUNS HIS FINGERS THROUGH HER HAIR EASILY DAMN MAYBE HER LEAVE IN JUST THAT GOOD!!! IF SHE WANTS TO BE HELD DOWN IN THE DARKNESS UNTIL SHE CANT BREATHE AND BROUGHT BACK TO THE LIGHT BY THE SAME *INSERT* LET HER!! ITS FAN FIC YALL 😭🫡

for fanfic writers and readers

as a black girl who loves a lot of different movies and shows, fanfic allows me to read stories that put me in the middle of my favorite things. however, fanfic often (unintentionally) excludes girls who look like me.

i am so sick and tired of reading a fanfiction and having to rewrite it in my brain because a character description immediately implies that the reader is white. if you don't know what i mean, here are some examples.

"your skin turned pink" or "you blushed": black girls and women with darker skin tones CANNOT blush. our skin does not just turn pink

"pulled your hair into a messy bun": my 4a hair cannot be pulled into a messy bun at random. i may be able to do a ponytail if i have braids in, and i might be able to tie it up if I have an old twist-out, but a "messy bun" is often not possible.

"he ran his hands through your hair": yeah...unless my hair is in a silk press (and an OLD silk press), that's not happening

there are a plethora of other examples that would make this post insanely long, so let me get to the point. there are very easy ways to make fanfic a bit more inclusive; all you have to do is tweak a few character descriptions. OR, put in your pairing or warnings that the reader is implied to be white.

and finally: please, please stop tagging your DARK fanfictions "xblack!reader." i am tired of searching for fluff under the black reader tag and finding non-con, dark themes, etc., ESPECIALLY when the fic ends up being for a white reader💀.

the goal of my page is to create a safe space for black girls who love reading fanfiction. i am only one person, so if you'd like to help, here are some ways to do that!

send me fics (preferably marvel and stranger things to start) that are with a black reader

comment some other things in fanfics that imply that the reader is white or that make the fic a little less accessible

REBLOG FICS BY BLACK WRITERS

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang. 

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to. 

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you. 

“This her?” one of them grumbled. 

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating. 

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked. 

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.” 

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding. 

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own. 

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?” 

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table. 

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves. 

“What happened?” you asked carefully. 

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.” 

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on. 

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.” 

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two. 

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal. 

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?” 

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up. 

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession. 

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table. 

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?” 

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.” 

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…” 

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.  

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone. 

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…” 

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.” 

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?” 

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.” 

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.” 

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile. 

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.” 

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual. 

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.” 

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly. 

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more. 

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways. 

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–” 

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run. 

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital. 

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.” 

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly. 

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel. 

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…” 

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night… 

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger. 

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper. 

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?” 

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.” 

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement. 

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.” 

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn���t planning on it, I was just curious…” 

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom. 

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit. 

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed. 

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen. 

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now. 

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral. 

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.” 

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped. 

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly. 

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?” 

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss. 

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore. 

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional. 

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches. 

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees. 

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag. 

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?” 

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.  

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded. 

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables. 

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him. 

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing. 

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space. 

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition. 

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?” 

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat. 

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?” 

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression. 

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug. 

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him. 

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?” 

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language. 

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.” 

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?” 

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.” 

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared. 

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.  

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.” 

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him. 

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long. 

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body. 

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself. 

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat. 

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms. 

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows. 

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of. 

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water. 

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow. 

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest. 

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit. 

“Let me go,” you demanded. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.” 

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest. 

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.” 

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat. 

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate. 

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.” 

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter. 

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such. 

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks. 

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack. 

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone. 

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.” 

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?” 

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.” 

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together. 

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently. 

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it. 

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin. 

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better. 

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next. 

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon. 

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs. 

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps. 

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors. 

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly. 

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door. 

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination. 

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit. 

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both. 

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently. 

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.” 

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon. 

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall. 

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable. 

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear. 

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head. 

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused. 

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind. 

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear. 

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head. 

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…” 

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment. 

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music. 

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice. 

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder. 

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…” 

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips. 

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder. 

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard. 

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame. 

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle. 

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape. 

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark. 

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered. 

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done. 

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire. 

“And?” Bucky fished. 

“For hurting you…” 

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm. 

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest. 

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky. 

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.  

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him. 

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply. 

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.” 

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed. 

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better. 

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress. 

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge. 

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room. 

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame. 

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you. 

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses. 

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed. 

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?” 

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie. 

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.” 

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core. 

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul. 

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…” 

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you. 

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips. 

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…” 

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body. 

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.” 

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge. 

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission. 

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity. 

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below. 

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you. 

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?” 

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base. 

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch. 

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you. 

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy. 

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you. 

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit. 

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!” 

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum. 

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth. 

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?” 

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity. 

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him. 

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile. 

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you. 

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him. 

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…” 

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.  

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[velvrei]

logan dating tony starks daughter !!! like he wants to dislike you soooooo bad because he automatically assumes you’re some spoilt brat who’s always gotten anything and everything that she’s wanted without having to lift a finger but after being forced to spend time with you (probably because of missions) he can’t help but fall head over heels for you!!! that stark charm is definitely something to be in awe of (ur dad and him still despise each other tho)

the other stark

pairing: older!logan howlett x stark!reader

summary: logan finally meets you, tony starks daughter at an avengers gala. as much as he thinks you are a stuck up brat who has everything handed to her, he couldn’t wait to have his hands on you.

warnings: smut, age gap (legal), somewhat forbidden romance, slight degradation, praise kink, cowgirl position, face riding, oral (f receiving), kinda slow burn, kinda enemies to lovers, really filthy smut, intentional overuse of the word fuck at the end, tony is pissed when he finds out

word count: 5k

a/n: don’t look to closely on the gif cause you’ll find the part where i didn’t try

nsfw below the cut!

logan was not looking forward to attending the avenger’s ‘met gala'. mostly because he knew he would be meeting the folks he was supposed to despise the most.

tony stark invited the x-men as a way of trying to mend the rip between the two groups; it was always avengers vs. the x-men, never avengers and the x-men. tony wanted to change that. logan didn’t.

as everyone arrive, there was a little red carpet where several photographers stood, flashing pictures in the hopes of capturing good shots of each of the visitors.

the x-men limo slowly approached the curb, with spectators surrounding the vehicle as everyone exited.

logan huffed and climbed out the door, disregarding the fangirls that surrounded him, eager to get the night over with.

he walked up to the carpet alongside his team, each member getting a solo shot. when it was logan’s turn, he rested his face and let the camera take pictures of him, stood up straight.

he was wearing dress pants, a button up, with the sleeves rolled up just above his forearms, and a black vest over his button up. the shirt easily displayed his muscles, which he claimed was unintentional, but it was vastly intentional.

the paparazzi turned their cameras as another limo pulled up, and out came peter parker, and logan rolled his eyes knowing it was all the younger avengers.

logan couldn’t help but watch as peter stepped to the side, holding his hand out as he watched a woman get out. he gulped, seeing who the woman was.

it was you, tony starks daughter, or so he heard from his team. he had never actually met you. as much as he wanted to persuade himself he wasn't drawn to you, it would be a complete lie.

you were wearing a long, form fitting dress. it was a dark red, almost maroon. you wore gold heels and chunky gold bangles and necklace along with it, making sure it wasn’t just one color, which was something logan noticed.

peter stood at your side and it made logan a bit curious as to what your relationship with him was, but once he saw you two begin bickering he quickly realized it was more of a sibling relationship.

logan felt like he was going through the five stages of grief as the two of you walked over, followed by some others that exited the limo. you walked in front of peter, walking up to the red carpet.

logan was still stood in the middle, he quickly turned his attention in front of him, looking at the camera for the picture.

“logan! pose with tony’s daughter!” one of the men behind the camera shouted. peter shot you a protective look, however you just shook your head, silently telling him to calm down.

logan almost huffed as you walked up next to him, even though you had never met the man, it would be more embarrassing to turn down the offer in front of millions of people.

“logan.” you say.

logan questions the fact you know him, wondering if he should’ve done his research beforehand.

“y/n.” he responds. he knows your name, and that’s it. he knows nothing else about you, and he is almost sure he doesn’t want to know.

the more he stood next to you, the longer he saw how many times you posed for the camera, wanting to roll his eyes but holding back knowing that would definitely get caught on camera.

you gave a small smile to the camera, turning to logan as you stood next to him. the two of you stood together, nothing more.

logan saw it as awkward, while you thought nothing of it, walking off the red carpet as he followed, quickly finding his team in attempt to avoid speaking to you any longer.

…

it had been an hour and logan hadn’t seen you again sense the introduction. he knew he was bound to be brought back to you again, but he didn’t want to be the cause of it.

logan finally spotted wade, approaching him, trying to pretend that wade wasn’t his comfort person.

“well hello my second favorite furball! i’ve missed you.” wade’s words make logan roll his eyes.

“missed ya too, bub. i barely know anyone here.” logan admits, quietly. he looks around the room to see if he saw anyone else he was comfortable with, but he just saw you in the corner, casually chatting with thor.

wade gasps, beginning to speak loudly on purpose. “the wolverine doesn’t know people-” wade starts but logan covers his mouth, staring daggers into his eyes.

“shut the fuck up. now is not the time.” logan says rather quiet, seeming a bit panicky as wade furrows his eyebrows.

wade goes to say a muffled remark but catches where logan’s distress is coming from. logan slowly lets go of wade’s mouth, watching as wade’s face brightens as if a light bulb had just been placed over his head.

“is billionaire bitch still your opp?”

“stop fucking talking like that.”

wade couldn’t help but giggle. “is it because of tony? he’s trying to make amends, stud muffin. i don’t know why you’re stressed.”

logan goes to respond, but takes a second, actually processing. “i- i don’t know why i’m stressed either if im being honest.”

wade smiled, appreciating the fact that his friend was actually processing his feelings instead of pushing away. that was something wade had taught logan, which was something wade had learned from his therapist.

“logan, you can’t hate the avengers forever. we’re gonna be forced to work with them. and as much as you may hate the starks, i’ve already looked at the first mission list and you’re partnered up with stark’s daughter.”

logan practically chokes on his champagne as wade speaks his last sentence. logan didn’t know whether to be curious or incredibly annoyed.

“oh, fuck me…” logan complains, rubbing his forehead.

wade holds back a giggle, “oh, i’m sure she will.”

with a smack to wade’s arm, the two boys noticed you and your father making your way over to them. logan almost cussed out tony in his head.

tony walked up, you not far behind your father, you have wade a side hug and gave logan a hand shake, that was strangely quick. tony smiled his millionaire smile. “thank you guys for joining us tonight. so glad you could make it, and i’m so happy we can finally kill this little rivalry.”

you knew your dad was being fake, but it wasn’t your place to say anything, especially when it was against wolverine and deadpool.

logan spoke the words, “i’m happy to be here,” but his face showed different, which earned him a smack in the arm from wade.

“i bet. we have a lovely spread of finger foods and you’re more than welcome to help yourself to some more champagne. would’ve told you how expensive it was before you decided to chug it all, however that’s okay.”

logan literally bit his tongue to stop himself from retaliating. if it was really okay as tony offered, tony wouldn’t care of the price.

after a few more dreadful minutes of banter between the two, and many side eye looks between you and wade, tony walked away, leaving just you, wade and logan.

which wade quickly saw himself out. “i’m gonna go find the woman with the magic hands, been dying to meet her. you two fartknockers try not to kill each other, okay?” his voice seemed so sarcastic but wasn’t, which made you almost smile.

wade walked away and left the two of you there. logan sighed as you started talking.

“you know, you don’t have to avoid me, logan.”

logan’s eyes shot up into yours. he wasn’t avoiding you. was he? “excuse me?”

you almost huffed, watching as his body tensed up. you stood up straight, even though you were still a bit shorter than him. “logan. i am not my father.”

your words cause logan to scoff. logan knew you weren’t your father. he just saw you as an exact replica of your bloodline. he didn’t want to say that right to your face, but you noticed he was processing a response, so you ignored the awkward silence and let him get his thoughts in order.

“obviously, you’re not him. your father is a 55 year old billionaire with a mustache. however you two are more similar than you think.”

his words make you think for a minute, deciding to keep the conversation a bit flirty, as much as you convinced yourself it wasn’t a good idea.

“listen, my father and i are just like you and wade. one is the caustic, sassy fighter who never knows when to quit. and the other is the hot one who simply follows the other's example.” your remarks force his brow to furrow.

out of the long phrase you just said, logan only processed one thing. “did you just call me hot?”

you smiled, batting your eyelashes before answered. “no, i called myself hot. you just happened to assume we’re similar, proving my point.”

logan hated how self centered you were. key word, hated. logan slowly realized how attractive your confidence was, but covered it up through his grunts and complaints of how stuck up you were. you weren’t wrong at all. you were hot, and there was nothing he could do about it.

logan rolled his eyes, “of course. you evil woman.” his words were half sarcastic, but you smiled, quickly remarking to his comment.

“you can call me evil, lo, but you can’t call me ugly.” and with that you walked away, leaving him there in his thoughts for the second time that night.

logan huffed. he would be lying if he said your words didn’t get to him. but he couldn’t. he was over half your age, and your father was the one person on this earth he couldn’t stand.

…

the first mission was the hardest. you and logan didn’t agree on much, the two of you couldn’t even decide on what food the team should get after the mission.

with each mission, logan felt his hatred for you slowly slipping away. as much as he tried to keep it because of who your father was, he couldn’t help but secretly adore you. your confidence, your skills, your remarks.

when you shared missions, logan was always paired with you. wade was sometimes there, but sometimes it was just the two of you. logan was the muscles, while you were the brains.

as much as he hated that, each mission he found it easier and easier to protect you. at first, he almost didn’t want to, so that way you could possibly learn your lesson.

then, by the third mission, he was protecting you like you were his own. you noticed those changes, knowing you were slowly getting to the man.

it was the aftermath of the fifth mission. all the avengers and x-men rented out a hotel through tony’s card. it was a smaller one, but was able to fit everybody. each partner was neighbored, but thankfully for logan not in the same room if opposite genders.

so logan was lucky enough to have a room to himself, however, that meant sleeping on his bed, knowing yours was on the opposite side of the wall. the walls weren’t exactly thick, which made it harder for him to keep himself together.

he felt filthy as he listened to your phone conversation with one of your friends. he refrained his interest and was just laying in his bed, reading a book when something you said striked his interest.

he assumed your friend asked about the person you were partnered up with, because as soon as your name left his mouth he couldn’t help but listen.

“yeah, i’m with logan.” he perked up, placing a book mark into his book before placing it onto his nightstand. he felt creepy listening in on your conversation, but convinced himself he had every right because he heard his name.

he heard nothing but mumbles from your friend, before he heard you speaking again.

“yeah, i can’t even lie, everytime i walk past him i just… there’s just something about him being my dad’s least favorite person that makes me want him even more.”

logan was at a loss for words. you wanted him? no. you couldn’t. he was practically forbidden. he felt like a pervert at the fact that his pants were tightening.

the friend laughed, and logan was not tuned out from your conversation, wondering what should be done from there. he quickly reminded himself that was your private conversation that he wasn’t supposed to hear, so what he knows must remain a secret.

…

logan usually wasn’t one to get much sleep, especially during the nights during missions, and especially only hours ago he found out you had the hots for him.

it was around two in the morning. he tossed and turned, trying to figure out what he should do.

he paused, throat feeling dry. he stood, throwing on his pajama pants, not bothering to wear a shirt before he left his hotel room, walking down the single set of stairs to the mini den, where there was a small kitchen and some lounge chairs.

he unintentionally scanned the room, catching you sitting in one of the lounge chairs, book in hand and your reading glasses sat low on your nose.

he swallowed his spit, walking over the the cupboard and grabbing a small glass, filling it with clean tap water from the sink.

the noise of the water running through the sink brought you from your reading trance, you took your glasses from your face and set your book down, finally noticing logan’s presence.

you slowly stood up, and logan tried to ignore your actions. looking out the window above the sink and quickly downing his water.

before he could leave the room you stopped him. “got somewhere to be?” your words made him sigh, head falling down as he turned his body to you.

he shook his head, realizing his attempt to avoid you was unsuccessful. you gave him your signature smile, not breaking eye contact even though he was tempted to.

“just tired.” his eyes tell different. he wasn’t tired at all. just couldn’t sleep. he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to now that he was down here with you.

“why are you lying to me? why are you avoiding me?” your words slow down as you mention him avoiding you, making sure your sentence really sinks in to his mind.

you couldn’t help but eye his shirtless figure, noticing how defined his abs we’re and feeling yourself become wet because of how manly he looked.

he notices your eyes and gulps, you watch his adams apple bob, and he suddenly realizes he needs to not look like a fucking pussy, even though he feels like one.

“why do you care?” his voice is back to his usual raspy. there’s your boy. you smile, finally recognizing he was back to the grumpy man you know and forbiddingly wanted.

“am i supposed to not care because my dad doesn’t? because i’ve told you many times. i am not my father.”

logan couldn’t help but search your body up and down. his act of checking you out, which you caught, makes your smile grow. “clearly not.” logan murmurs.

you eyebrows raise, your eyes never leaving his. “is that flirty comment leaving your mouth?” your words make him almost stutter but he takes a deep breath to stop himself from being vulnerable around you.

“no. it’s only flirting if you take it that way. i’m not flirting with you. i can’t.” logan’s last words make you curious. was he not flirting because he didn’t want to, or cause he couldn’t?

“you can’t? cause of my dad? fuck who my dad is. as much as i love him he’s gotten in the way of almost everything i’ve wanted that didn’t follow his path for me. i’m not letting him ruin this for me.” his breath quickened as you continued, “sometimes a girl needs to be taken care of. no matter who it is..”

your words make his eyes widen. he didn’t even know what to say.

we’re you flirting with him? he knew based on your phone call earlier that you wanted him because of the thrill it brought. but was that the only reason? did you actually want him?

“is that right?” his voice is low, trying to hide his desperation, and his words make you realize you’ve got him. he’s slowly letting down his forbidden barrier.

which is exactly what you wanted.

you step closer to him. “exactly right.” you were so close to him, only a few inches from his face, his husky breath fanning your face, you were able to smell his minty toothpaste from when he brushed his teeth just a few hours before.

you smiled, trailing a hand down his arm, watching satisfied as he shivered beneath your touch. “feels good, doesn’t it?”

logan backed up, finally letting his head reprocess what was happening. “no. y/n. we can’t. we can’t.” he repeats, and you can’t tell if he’s convincing you, or himself.

"why not? cause of my dad? don't you want to anger him? make him mad? isn't that what you've always wanted? well his daughter is standing right here, begging you to take care of her, to show her how she deserves to be taken care of."

logan almost moans at the thought. you step closer to him again, hand running down his arm.

you watched as he shivered, but instead of stepping back this time, he leans into your touch.

he sighs, your touch calming his nerves. he looks down at you, jaw clenching. "i'm.. too old for you. you deserve someone younger."

his words almost make you scoff in disagreement, and you couldn't help but disagree more with him.

"younger? all the guys my age are either assholes or taken, logan. i need someone older, to take care of me, to show me what it's like to be treated right, and fucked good. wouldn't you rather that that be you, rather than another man your age?"

it's like you knew just what to say, because he was standing there, as his dick hardened in his pants at your words.

he wanted you so bad. he didn't know what to say. he wanted to protest, for your sake, all he knew is that he wanted you so fucking bad.

your name tumbles from his lips, trying to think of what to say next.

“don’t tell me we can’t. because we can. we can do whatever we fucking want. we’re adults, aren’t we, lo?”

he sighs as the nickname slips from your mouth, he bites his lip, looking down at you, searching your eyes for any hesitation. he found none. just pure lust. he almost moaned as you gazed into his eyes, pupils dilating slightly.

“we are.” is all he says, eyes looking from your pupils, down to your lips. he licked his, eyes sharpening as he perked up.

you smiled up at him, batting your eyelashes, practically daring him to make the first move.

you decided to tease him a bit more, knowing exactly how to irritate him.

“i could always, go find another older guy to take care of me.” your words caused him to growl, slightly, jaw clenching at the thought of you with another boy, let alone an older guy.

“hell no. you’re mine.” his words make you smile, your expression still facing away from him as you turned your head, raising your eyebrows at him.

“i’m yours?” your words slightly questioning him, “prove it.”

at that moment, logan felt all his control slipping away.

the moment he’d been waiting for had finally come, he could finally devour you the way he had dreamed about many nights before.

you started to walk away, but he grabbed your arm, pulling you back in his direction and turning you around.

his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, his other on your waist, bringing you closer and finally connecting your lips with his.

he moaned into the kiss, knowing this was the moment he’d been waiting for. his lips were hungry, he was hungry.

logan let his hands roam along your body, both going down to grab your ass, squeezing and chuckling as you squealed into his mouth, taking that as his chance to slide his tongue into your mouth, touching yours.

he couldn’t help but moan as your lips wrapped around his tongue, sucking on it.

your eyes looked at his. causing his body to tremble at how dirty you were being.

he quickly squeezed your ass again, as the two of you continued to kiss, spreading your legs and picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“who knew you were so fucking naughty.” he whispered against your lips, pecking them after speaking then setting you onto the counter.

he stood in between your legs, hands running up your thighs, noticing how short your sleep shorts really were.

he kissed you again, kissing your jaw and continuing down your neck.

he made out with the sensitive skin just below your chin, panting as your head fell back gently against the cupboard.

his hands slowly went under your t-shirt, nails running against your torso, and up to your chest, squeezing, hearing as you moaned, quickly bringing one out and covering your mouth.

“gotta stay quiet, sugar. wouldn’t want your father hearing and getting curious.”

you moan into his hand, and he just chuckles at you, enjoying how needy you’re being just for him. he’s grunting against your skin, his hand moving faster than his brain.

he tries to ignore the fact his dick is practically leaking in his pants as his hand runs up your thigh, closer and closer to your core.

his face is still in your neck, as his hand pushes your shorts and underwear aside, his other still around your mouth to silence your sounds.

he quickly slips a finger in your pussy, smiling into your neck as he feels you moan into his hand. he pressed a kiss against your neck, as he wasted no time, thumb rubbing against your clit as his finger penetrated your hole.

he stuck another finger in, loving the fact he had you trembling under him. his two fingers curved inside of you, watching as your thighs shook at his unexpected action.

you whined into his hand, almost biting down onto his fingers.

he noticed that and removed his hand for a brief second before slipping his fingers into your mouth.

his lips moved from your neck to your ear. “god, look at you, letting my fingers stuff two of your holes,” he moaned around your fingers, smiling to himself as he shoves them down your throat.

his fingers leave your mouth after making you gag, his other set of two fingers still inside your pussy.

his other hand went to your neck, holding it as he licked a long stripe up and kissed it, nibbling on your soft skin.

“fuck, if your dad walked down right now and saw how much of a slut you’re being for me. would piss him off so bad, wouldn’t it, sugar.”

his words made you bit your lip, holding back your whimpers and whines as his fingers relentlessly pounded into you.

you finally let out a whimper, causing his smile to grow, his fingers leaving your pussy, leaving you slightly stretched out.

he placed a sweet, quick kiss to your lips before slipping you off the counter and into his arms, carrying you bridal style.

he walked you upstairs to his hotel room, kicking the door open then kicking it closed behind him.

“sweet girl couldn’t handle being quiet, felt too fucking good didn’t it?”

he set you down, forcing you to stand, sitting himself on the bed. he unintentionally manspread, holding himself up on his elbows. “come on sugar. strip for me.”

his words only encouraged you, smiling as you took off your shirt in a teasingly slow manner, leaving you in your lace bra and skimpy pajama shorts.

he bit his lip, eyeing you up and down. normally you’d feel intimidated, but you’d been waiting for this moment for weeks. there was no time to be intimidated by him.

you smiled as you slowly slid your shorts down your legs, revealing the matching panties, causing his head to fall back.

“a matching set? you planned this, didn’t you?”

all the dots connected in his head and he couldn’t help but moan at the thought of you planning to seduce him, and the fact you wanted him that bad to make a whole plan.

he brought his hand up, using his two fingers to signal you closer. without a word you stepped closer to him.

you straddled his body, leg wrapping around his waist, before you move his elbows and push him back onto the bed.

he moaned as you did so, looking up at you with wide eyes. “oh? is that how we’re feeling, sugar?” his words only made your confidence grow, palms resting on each of his pecks.

you tilted your head slightly, bringing one hand down to his pants, slowly palming the sensitive area you were sitting on.

“yeah, don’t act like it doesn’t turn you on, either. i feel you through your pants. your little friend here’s practically screaming for me to touch him.”

your hand palms him, slowly gaining speed as logan feels his breath hitch, heart skipping a beat. the friction of your hand manipulating his clothed dick only made him harder, head falling back onto the bed, as his back arched like a slut.

the material of his pajama pants stimulating his cock in all the right places.

at this point your cunt was sticky, logan could almost feel it through the two articles of clothing, forgetting the fact yours was extremely thin.

“feels good, doesn’t it? you were already so fucking hard, lo. does it turn you on that i’m so much younger than you? that this is forbidden?” your words only make his hips buck into your hand, mouth falling open.

you smiled grew, biting your lip as you watched his desperate. “god, it does, doesn’t it? you gonna let me ride you?”

logan moaned and nod his head, “if i’m not inside you within the next ten seconds i’m flipping you over and fucking you myself.” his words made you moan, losing your dominance, feeling the sudden need for him to demolish you.

“really, you don’t want me to sit on your face?” logan’s mouth watered at your words, quickly changing his mind.

he moaned, “wait, fuck yes. give it to me. come here and sit on my fucking face.”

you stood off him, slowly taking off your panties, then bracing yourself and climbing back on top of him, slowly making your way up to his face. you smiled, seeing logan’s desperate expression, as if he needed your pussy in order to live. he yearned for you, and it made you wetter at the sight.

you slowly hovered over his face, lowering onto his mouth, moaning as soon as his nose rubbed against your clit.

his tongue immediately went to your hole, tongue fucking you. you couldn’t help but squirm, moaning again as you felt his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you onto his face.

logan is loving the desperate way you try to bite your lip to keep yourself from being too loud, as if anyone was up at this hour.

"eating me so fucking good," you moan out, feeling as logan moans against your cunt, your words were like fuel to him, and he found himself bucking his hips at nothing because of how beautiful and desperate you sounded.

you adored how eager he was for you, causing you to scream as he moved his tongue quicker, eventually moving his entire face after noticing your liking for his nose on your clit.

he was getting so into it, being so messy, pussy clenching around his tongue, but he slowly removed his arms from your legs, lifting you off his face, then down to his abs, uninstall sitting your clit onto his hard abs, causing you both to moan.

“fuck, need you to cum on my dick, you can cum on my face later. i need you now. need you to ride me so good.”

logan moaned out as you quickly moved down, pulling down his pants and boxers, and with no warning, quickly sinking onto his dick.

logan moaned out slightly louder than you, making your smile grow.

you slowly took your hair out from the ponytail it was in, letting it fall down. logan looked up at you in awe, watching as you started to ride his cock.

“i’ve imagined this so many times, and god, nothing is better than it actually happened. you’re so fucking beautiful.”

you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, cupping his cheek before placing your hands to his v-line, using his hot body to brace yourself as you rode his thick cock.

as you began to bounce, logan was a moaning mess. he started fucking up into you, “come on sugar, ride it.”

his words of encouragement made your moans become louder. he smiled up at you, his hands now holding your hips, holding you in place as he fucked up into you.

“that’s it, baby. take it, take my fucking cock. so fucking tight around me.” he eyes moved from your glowing body, down to your pussy, practically sucking his dick in.

“look at you, sucking me in so good, like she was made for me. fuck.” he looked at your stomach, practically seeing a bulge move in and out of you.

“can see me in your tummy, fuck,” he points out, and you look down and moan. you smiled at him, watching his glistening body, as sweat droplets formed on his forehead.

“god that’s so hot, you’re so fucking big. told you i needed an older guy to take care of me.”

his name tumbles from your lips, he sees you in your desperate state. the two of you both feel your climaxes reaching closer, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer if he kept talking to you like that.

“good fucking girl.” his voice was so low and raspy, you couldn’t help but moan.

logan enjoyed the fact he had tony stark’s daughter currently bouncing on his cock, begging for more. it was forbidden, and the thought alone almost made him cum.

“you keep talking to me like that i’m gonna cum,” your voice is desperate and needy, and that turns him on to the max, slowly feeling himself reach the edge. he grunts, jaw clenching, feeling himself go almost animalistic, he grunts through his teeth.

“come on sugar. that’s it. cum on my fucking cock. riding me so fucking good i’m gonna cum myself. want you to moan so loud tony hears you from the floor below and knows his arch nemesis is fucking his daughter. wanna see my cum spill out of this sweet little pussy of yours.”

his words carry you over the edge, as he continues to talk you through it. “that’s it, bub, i’m so fucking close. this pretty little pussy is sucking me in so good, yeah i feel you clenching. dick so good it has you trembling, huh, sugar?” you cum on his cock, legs shaking as you stop bouncing, but logan grabs your hips and drills into you, chasing his own climax.

you feeling extremely overstimulated, you couldn’t control your whimpers and whines and how loud you were. logan finally came with you, mouth falling open as he grunted, moaned, and even almost whimpered.

your eyes scrunch shut, when you finally are able to open them you see logan under you, body glistening in sweat, his eyes closed shut and his head pushed back into the pillows, holding your hips so tight, like if he lets you go you’ll leave.

you smile as you come down from your high, logan quickly following you, his smile growing as his eyes meet yours again.

“that what you meant when you said take care of you?” his cocky words make you smack his bare chest, slowly pulling off him, your cum and his cum slowly spilling out of you, getting both of your attention.

“fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” logan mumbled under his breath.

you almost moaned again, feeling empty as you pull his cock out of your pussy, the cum dripping onto his v-line and abs, making your smile grow.

“yes, this is what i meant. fucked me so good.” you giggled, going to get up but logan flipped you over gently and pushed you down onto the bed.

“lay here, sugar. i’ll clean you up.”

logan grabs a damp, warm rag from the bathroom of his hotel room, bringing it to you and wiping up the cum, once you’re fully clean he tosses it into the hamper across the room. he goes to his bag, grabbing one of his shirts and walking over to you.

he smiles and carefully brings it over your head, finding your tired state adorable.

once you have the shirt on, you lay down in the bed, pulling the covers over you sleepily, as he puts his pajama pants back on, climbing back into bed next to you.

…

the next morning, logan isn’t in bed with you, you check the time and it’s about 10am. your mission didn’t start for another few hours, so you decided to go downstairs and get yourself some of the hotel breakfast.

you slipped on some sleep shorts and slowly walked out of your room, down the stairs and into the kitchen where breakfast was being served.

you walked over to the counter, putting waffle batter into the waffle maker and turning around, trying to find your dad within the many avengers and x-men sat around the mini tables, but when you saw almost everyone staring at you, some with their mouths slightly open, you became confused.

you turned to see your dad, tony, sat at a table with steve, thor and bruce.

tony almost gasped as you turned around and continued making your waffle, not caring how loud he was.

“why the fuck does the last name on the back of you shirt say howlett.” as soon as your dad reveals that information, you avoid turning back around to face him.

logan smiles from his seat, watching as tony slowly turns to look at him at the table near him.

tony’s eye twitches as he looks over at logan. logan unfortunately cant hide his amused expression, almost giggling at the situation, watching as wade walks into the room, also noticing the back of your shirt.

wade jumps up and down, clapping his hands together. “is that logan’s shirt! omg, they finally fucked!”

bruce and thor can’t help but giggle to each other, as steve holds in his laugh.

tony eyes shoot from wade to logan, practically shaking from how mad he was. it was something logan wanted to take a picture of and remember forever.

“you stuck your dick in my fucking daughter!?” tony’s loud, obviously unhappy voice made you slowly turn around, you and logan making eye contact trying not to break into laughter.

“am i the only one furious at this? why the fuck are you all fucking laughing!?” tony shouts, standing up, almost spilling his coffee all over the table.

…

a/n: don’t forget to comment and tell me your thoughts ;)

[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!!!