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batsplat · 3 months ago

Note

quick follow up to this bit

was also reminded of this valentino quote

He speaks about my shoulder like he was the best shoulder doctor in Melbourne Hospital.

what WERE they cooking

(I can't like. prove this because obviously we simply do not have solid 'evidence' for casey's thinking here either way, but given this is a speculative post about how I'd narrativise these rivalries.... do think the screenshot above is basically my theory for why casey had a thing about valentino's injuries. to such an extent that valentino picked up and commented on it! after laguna and throughout 2009, there were various waves of discourse about casey having been 'broken' by valentino - first due to casey's dip in form in 2008, then because he had to take some time off in 2009. the fact that it was an invisible illness that he himself could not explain in a sport that is all about the big, glaring obvious injuries - one that was treated as a sign of mental weakness, something he was ALWAYS susceptible to being accused of... very much the opposite of valentino's shoulder and leg in that sense, which was way easier to explain and was immediately taken seriously. my suspicion is that for casey, it was about not being extended the same grace as valentino was, being frustrated at how much leniency valentino was being granted when casey was always being harshly judged. of course, valentino (in classic demented rider fashion) was if anything downplaying the severity of the shoulder injury and only admitted after it was more or less healed that he'd been terrified by how long the recovery period had dragged on and had feared he would never be the same rider again. casey's lack of empathy on this count is completely justifiable and he does also obviously have a point, but it's still an interesting part of his character. it's what makes the rivalry with valentino so very interesting - there are lots and lots of ways in which valentino directly made casey's life miserable, but then there are other ways in which valentino's mere presence, his existence, someone whose treatment casey could compare his own to, that also contributed to casey's hatred towards him. firstly by getting more empathy than casey did and the general injustice in how the sport was 'always' on valentino's 'side' in a way it never was for casey, secondly by having this reputation of 'breaking' rivals that... well, y'know, valentino was presumably more than happy to be the beneficiary of the whole thing, but it's not like this was actually a line he spread himself, including with regards to casey. he didn't have to! it's kinda just... an awful coincidence that casey's 2009 absence was always going to be treated with suspicion and he HAPPENED to have a rival with valentino's very specific reputation?? the perfect storm! which gets you to this odd point where... if anything after that casey is the main instigator in terms of the sheer vitriol of the rivalry - but it's built on years of seething resentment that valentino at times almost seems taken aback by... and then reciprocates with interest because of course he does. because that's just how valentino ticks. fundamental lack of understanding for each other!! valentino kinda accidentally being casey's perfect foil!! casey having a million Legitimate Grievances against valentino but still somehow managing to project 85% of his other issues with the sport on valentino too!! they're soooooooooooooo. so!!)

if you were to direct a motogp movie (or make a one season of television) what season or rivalry would you make it about? and more interesting what artistic liberties would you take? it doesn’t have to be a straight up biopic bc imo those are often boring, instead it could be something like velvet goldmine (1998) aka fictional characters whose real life counterparts are pretty obvious, veering in like rpf territory. anyways👀

did you know. one time this guy put a curse on this other guy. and he never won a race again

anyway, look, I do feel like by this point that's the BORING answer from me, but obviously it's where my mind first went. I'm not sure I'd actually want it out there in film form because by now it's badly enough remembered that it's like, my cute little niche story, and I think there's something fun about the Wider World even within the motogp fandom not exactly getting how bonkers the whole thing was. (I know other humans have canonically watched motogp 2004 but I swear even journalists have forgotten some key key details and it's kinda annoying but also fun.) bold words from someone who's been blogging about it!! weird gatekeep-y instinct. but basically my job here is done as far as outreach is concerned - I wrote a very long post, now I get asks about it twice a week that allow me to think about it some more with the four other people who care, perfect balance. that rivalry doesn't need to go mainstream!! the whole point of it is that it's kinda cruel but narratively pleasing that it's gone under the radar, because it's another sign valentino won. but obviously, I cannot literally make a film about this, so the hypothetical repercussions I think maybe we can put aside for a moment here

okay I came back to this bit of the post after I increasingly got into of the spirit of coming up with dumb ideas, but it did make me flesh out what I'd even WANT from something like that. I'm with you anon, a lot of biopics are boring!! if you want to just know what happened, please just literally go and 'watch the races' and 'read books' like what are we actually getting here. you kinda want to give it a purpose for existing, right, a way of portraying real/mildly fictionalised events in a manner that is also taking some kind of stance on the material AND is doing stuff you can't do 'in real life'. thing is, look, you could make 2006 into a film, and I'm sure it'd be perfectly nice because it's fundamentally a solid underdog story (well, inherently winning a title with repsol honda is NOT being an underdog but you can write it that way), but also what are you doing beyond just telling people what happened? I feel like that generally about single seasons, they're not really doing anything for me. I was also turning around the biaggi/valentino rivalry in my head in part because that's the one valentino gave as his answer for 'rivalry he would turn into a film' (marc big wet eyes sitting right next to him), but like. a film about that rivalry from valentino's pov is fundamentally not something I'm interested in. you have all these isolated very memorable moments that make it work as a rivalry, like you can absolutely spin them into a dramatic yarn that goes through the genesis of their conflict to middle finger gate to punching gate to assen + donington + sachsenring + phillip island 2001 and it's basically *insert rousing music* successful coming of age. at most you can lean into the fact valentino became successful at being a dick. like idk it's fine but also what's the point? valentino is challenged in a sports context by biaggi, he's challenged because he realises his words have consequence and the press actually reports the words he says to journalists (the horror), but he is fundamentally not challenged on a personal level. that's the entire point, right? it's the ultimate comfort zone rivalry - biaggi is a dick who it is quite easy to hate and also reacts poorly to valentino's initial provocation. the animosity escalates and it is inherently fun to beat him. valentino is mean to him, but it's not like he even really crosses any lines to beat him. like you can make it into a film, and if you twisted the material a little bit you could make it satisfying, but I don't want to!

now the way the writing process of this post worked was that I was going to breeze through a bunch of non-sete/valentino rivalries and explain why I think some of them don't work for our purposes here, but then I ended up writing myself into changing my mind. so my take on the biaggi rivalry is that actually, you CAN make it work but it has to be from biaggi's perspective. basically, I think you've got to amadeus it (a web weave I have been thinking of making at some point btw). so,,, it's a meditation on talent and how unfair it all is, maybe minus the bit where salieri poisons amadeus (I know that doesn't happen in the film) or dresses up as amadeus' father to, y'know, make him write a requiem on his death bed. and it's not amadeus in that HERE, the clown prince gets a happy ending! but it's more like, in thematic terms, I think you have to zero in on this bit. biaggi didn't have parents who shoved him on a bike when he was three years old, he didn't have parents who were invested in his motorcycling career (or even necessarily particularly invested in him), he started the sport late and discovered that, yes, he did have a prodigious amount of skill in it - but one that he started honing far later than valentino did. he approached his career with a sort of grim resolve, surly and irascible and not interested in making friends with any of his competitors but very, very good. he goes away from the race track and dates all these models, he irritates fellow riders, he's not part of the gang and he's happy about it. he's very successful! four 250cc titles, wins his first ever race in 500cc at a time when doohan was very much winning everything. he's also just like,,,, an interesting and spiky enough character it's not hard to make him come alive

but then of course you have this gradual emergence of the amadeus character, the one who challenges his established position in the court of,, well... motorcycle racing, and also as the guy italians rooted for! and valentino's obviously, y'know, in so many ways the exact opposite from biaggi, and he's super young and cheerful and lively and is doing all his silly celebrations and is being a bit camp and goofy and treats motorcycle racing as a party (you really want to lean into the culture clash here, like in amadeus it's because you have stuffy austrian court vibes but here it's because everyone is having their bones broken every two minutes and just how... kinda grim a lot of motorcycle racing was). and he's also this innocent! yes, he insults biaggi, and yes, in retrospect we know valentino is kinda evil, but at the time he was a kid with a big mouth who was a little taken aback by how that biaggi feud sort of escalated beyond what he'd actually intended it to do! and biaggi just, hates him. and I think, sorry to the real man max biaggi here, but you've got to play with how once they're actually competing with each other, it's miserable how there's just this unbreachable gulf in talent. like, whatever biaggi does he cannot win! he isn't going to defeat valentino over the course of a full season! which is depressing and horrible and CRUEL, because there's this inevitability to the whole thing... and also! because valentino doesn't DESERVE it. and you don't have to go full salieri pleading with god to explain how god could give this CLOWN all this talent, but it's kinda the same vibe! how is it valentino, who is constantly just having a laff and canonically maybe wasn't the biggest gym-goer in the paddock and is just generally seen as, y'know, a bit of a dandy, this foppish clown who everyone loves and who doesn't have to work hard to be good - how is he the one who is winning so much!! it's miserable and unjust... and I think how you portray this is that you really emphasise the kinda, repetitive nature of the defeat. like, I think you probably want to make this into a non-linear narrative where all this biaggi backstory is communicated somehow but you don't just start it when he was born or whatever - you start it in 2001 when they're competing for a title and already hate each other. and then you heavy on the time loop vibes. the whole cinematic language and all that other shit should emphasise how all these weekends are structured in exactly the same way and if you're losing to this one guy, all these different weekends can start feeling the same. it bleeds into each other, it feels inescapable, you're trapped in this narrative you can't change... worst of all, you even return to the same places again and again - like play with that! biaggi keeps coming back to where they had the fist fight, to where valentino first insulted him all those years back. you play up the disorientation and the misery of it all, plus biaggi canonically gives us all this kinda messy freudian shit to play with like how he was dating 'valentina' and his relationship with her was falling apart because of how miserable valentino was making him. it's all there!!

ANYWAYS the way you conclude this story is!! welkom 2004!! so again we can artistic license this a little bit and, uh, ignore sete (though I do also think it's fun if you lean into biaggi being displaced as a rival and staring at them being friendly and happy with each other from the outside) - but the key bit is that valentino is finally making the big error. biaggi wasn't winning titles on a yamaha, since he left yamaha has gotten worse, now valentino is making this big mistake out of his own hubris. language of cinema that shit and make everything brighter and more hopeful.... the time loop is finally over, biaggi has escaped, this year will be different!!!! everyone in his circle agrees, valentino is fucked. step off the plane at welkom (pre season testing didn't happen in this universe) and it's literal dawn of a new day... staring out at the sun and finally, biaggi can move on, can live a new and different life. anyway. obviously we all know what's coming next - you have this big dramatic climactic race where biaggi throws himself at valentino again and again and again and he comes so close to winning it... but he doesn't. and you have valentino living his best life, being delighted, but the film is focusing on how like,,, we're bleaching the joy back out of biaggi's life, how actually he's returning to what he already knew. and it ends on the podium, with the camera focusing on biaggi on that fucking second step or zooming in or whatever (idk how cinema works) and it just finishes on this shot of biaggi dead-eyed in a bleak world, trapped again for eternity aka until the end of the 2005 season. done!! I'm not sure this is quite what valentino had in mind, but. well. that's how I'd do it

this is from the pushkin play from 1832 not the 1984 film but like. low key pushkin already kinda nailed the essence of sports rivalries in the 1830s and we just have to acknowledge that sometimes

right. so the casey rivalry is where I'm going to go completely off the wall. skip this bit to get to the slightly saner stuff. this is also one I fully admit to sometimes playing around with in my mind anyway, but. uh. I'm gonna be taking this one in just. well. places. I do have a vision here but I also don't quite know how to explain it in a way that doesn't make me sound like I've lost my mind, but well if you're still reading this then that's on you. so lemme get this out of the way: the classic sports biopic formula would work well with casey. if I had to point to a single rider I would sports biopic-ify, it's casey. so you have all this kinda,, obvious adversity that's easy to get across, and it's a narrative you can follow chronologically without too much trouble. you've got all the childhood stuff, the australian racing club not letting him join them, the move to britain, the rising through the ranks, it's also this very biopic-friendly 'nobody ever believed in him apart from like three people' stuff. and the premier class is also narratively satisfying, from the rocky rookie season to the kinda shock success to then all the lows of 2008 and 2009 and the physical ailments and the anxiety and then the switch to honda and the title and then him deciding to retire... that's all good stuff! you can absolutely biopic-ify it! gun to my head and sure, I can walk you through exactly what bits of his life I'd focus on and put in what order and so on, and I think ultimately you could make a very good sports biopic from that

[some mild gore to follow in this next section]

but also. thing is. that's fine. it's just not where I want to go here, because again I feel like at that point you can also pick up his autobiography and just read it - because what you're basically doing here is just filming that. and I get how this stuff works, you're bringing the story to a wider audience, you can show stuff in a different way in that medium etc etc, and that's all great but also I don't care about bringing stuff to a wider audience. I care about doing fun stuff in my brain. so what I'd actually do here is just, basically, go in the exact opposite direction and ditch all the realism. genuinely, ditch the live action stuff, we're going animated - what I'm interested in here is stuff where we need to be able to fully suspend our disbelief and lean into some surreal shit. I'm not going to bury the lede here: my idea is that you take that thing where casey said he hated how ducati was ruining the bike by letting valentino's yellow encroach on it and, basically,, just go all in on that bit. like come on, that is so singularly visually evocative, it truly captures a lot of what's going on thematically in that rivalry. (see also x and x for the most relevant casey posts.) casey sees valentino as the malevolent force, this infection! he associates him strongly with a specific colour, one that can be sickly or unnatural or just... evil. malignant, malicious, malevolent, all the m words. to casey, valentino is a personification of everything that is wrong with the sport. valentino is literally the walking manifestation for so many of his issues, from the dangerous riding to the lack of respect to the lying to the cult of personality to the obsession with image and the media to the backroom games to the politics to the injustice of how different riders are treated differently, like!! he's literally all of that! this is a topic for another post, but this plays out in a lot of kinda, weird and funky ways where it's a two way street and sometimes when casey talks about motogp you go 'actually I think that's just valentino?' (btw he also does this about 'europe' right I don't think those are europeans you hate casey that's literally just valentino) and sometimes when he talks about valentino it's kinda? this feels like it's about a little more than the bloke himself? and basically, right, I think you need to take this to its natural conclusion where casey used to admire him and look up to him and want to emulate him on track and then gets disillusioned when valentino's worshippers turn against casey and casey is the one to bring valentino down to earth and... listen, I think you need to play around with valentino being a literal god. and I think you need to have casey stab him to cover up the yellow on the ducati with blood

okay. look. the idea here, right, is that we're basically making the subtext text, and just digging into that process of 'bringing valentino back to earth', of taking on a god and having the audacity to succeed, and also treating valentino as this sort of. infection in his own mind. the bike is literally being infected!! casey may have left the ducati but he STILL has some fidelity and love for this project, those were his people he worked with, and now valentino is coming in and just twisting everything around himself!! but also I think how this functions is that, okay, so you have all this normal stuff that's the actual 'plot' in the 'real world', but the ISSUE with the real world is that there's a lot of stuff that just. isn't possible there. like the thing casey wants in that rivalry but is never going to have is... a captive audience. a big problem casey has in that rivalry is that he doesn't get the chance to actually say a lot of stuff to valentino. he starts using the media more and more and plays the game on valentino's level, but there's still this disconnect where mr straight talking is the valentino rival who valentino never really blanks or freezes out like... there's a disconnect! there's valentino the person, who casey never quite figures out how to just straight up hate, and then there's valentino the character, the racer, the rider, the god who casey DESPISES. but when they're doing small talk at pressers and podiums, casey doesn't get to talk to that version of valentino! he just talks to valentino the person, who obviously isn't literally a different person but is also not going to explain to casey where he's coming from, is he, and also isn't someone who casey can explain to where HE is coming from. and that gulf... it does bother casey. I don't think he can quite verbalise why either, but there's just... this creeping tension. I think it'd be easier for casey if valentino really were more of a caricature, just kinda a dick in all walks of life. and there's just these canonical hints of that... the way casey talks about how he's sure valentino as a guy is fine, but he never knew valentino like that, the whole 'I'd like to go with valentino for dinner to tell him where I was coming from in that rivalry' thing, like!! it's there

so basically EYE think what you should be doing is using the wonders of storytelling to actually. embrace that element. and just leave realism behind now and again. valentino is a god, he is literally worshipped, he's part of this pantheon that casey is trekking to reach. casey is brave enough to take him on in combat, he is the first one who is truly able to draw blood. he sees how valentino isn't just a god of joy or battles or speed or the SUN or any of that other stuff - he's a disease, an illness, a god who is also a false prophet... the worship never quite goes away, because who ever truly gets rid of their valentino rossi complex, but casey eventually is given the chance to face a chained valentino and kinda,,, ritualistically publicly humiliate him using the ducati as both this sick thing that has to be 'cured' and this symbol of valentino's failure. I'm sorry, visual language goes brr here, like chain him up, do weirdly eroticised torture idc!! (psst psst valentino's fucked up shoulder also extremely goes brr here, casey low key a teensy bit weird about valentino's injuries? his thing after the 2010 leg break where he goes 'why's everyone making such a big deal about this other people break their limbs too' and then after 2011 jerez immediately asking whether valentino's shoulder is okay in just a very obviously passive aggressive way. literally he opens with that, valentino isn't using it as an excuse or anything, for some reason it's already on casey's mind and I would politely contest it was out of genuine concern for valentino's wellbeing!! it's just kinda? I'm so compelled by it? I suppose it is kinda about how valentino's suffering gets taken more seriously than his own? how those absences are received differently by the motogp world? idk I find this fun because casey does know this is one thing valentino can't really be blamed for himself, so it just slips out a bit? but yeah, casey + valentino's injuries, nobody's talking about it but I sure will, let casey get weird and mean and a teensy bit sadistic about valentino's injuries in an artistic manner.) crucially I like animation as a medium here because I think it's easier to lean into surrealism when you don't have to hand hold the audience so much through the suspension of realism, also there's just some imagery you can do in cooler ways through animation where in live action it may just look. weird. (I think you can also do one of those things where you have a live action film with only those specific bits animated but also... why? it just feels like in live action you need more 'justifications' for things, like am I saying casey is having some weird hallucinations and is losing his mind? no I just want to have weird vision sequences ffs.) the colour stuff!! valentino/casey is big on the colour coding as a rivalry, to the extent casey is even, y'know, drawing attention to it in the literal text!! yellow and red are banger colours, valentino is big on imagery himself with all his sun + moon motifs, it's kind of all there to make the easy next step to kinda zany surreal imagery. ritualistic stabbing works better in animation, you can kinda get the blood to like. drip down and overwhelm the yellow illness that's slithered out across the bike

and. AND of course what this entire set up allows you to do is.... give them an opportunity to talk. they can't talk in real life! casey CAN'T give him his real thoughts on anything, and fundamentally valentino can't either. they're opponents. they're strangers who chat sometimes. it's not just that they aren't friends, it's that fundamentally they cannot be friends - because their ability to do their actual jobs depends on a certain level of professional distance. valentino of course does have a decent read on casey, and vice versa, because when you're figuring out how to defeat someone then (if you're valentino) you're looking to play the rider too. valentino's entire approach depends on focusing in on his rivals and attempting to throw them off, to make them unravel. he's watching casey closely!! the entire journey of casey's first three seasons in the premier class essentially becomes like, this god of their world focusing in on him. figuring him out. trying to gnaw away at him. obviously, animation also allows you to go big on the panopticon-y imagery which is kinda fundamental to their rivalry, because of their fundamentally oppositional stances to 'performing' for the ever present cameras where there IS a little bit of common ground in they have both struggled with it. but valentino isn't going to ever say that to casey! casey isn't going to open up to valentino! so if you give them,, you know, a different arena to express themselves, where casey actually has this external figure to talk to (as he's like, cutting him open I guess) whereas valentino actually is put in a position where he's allowed to respond, where he can taunt casey a little bit, where he can interrogate casey's approach and also the similarities between the two of them and how casey has been forced to become a little more like valentino to challenge him... because the thing is, right, valentino is so big on message discipline with his rivals and has completely stopped talking about that rivalry post mid 2013 that, first of all, you have this complete imbalance in who's been telling this story for the past decade, but second of all you kinda don't have a sense of what valentino would respond? idk!! I think this is mainly fun as a thought exercise for me specifically but also I do think it's kinda, digging into some of the bits that make this narratively work as a rivalry, how valentino in this rivalry is actually just kinda... removed. like he's not really emotional about it!! at most he's a bit bitchy, but even that just feels about The Game. it's the most extreme in this regard followed by jorge - but with valentino's other feuds you kinda... see a bit more an unguarded moment, see something a little more real there. the casey rivalry feels so uncomfortable precisely because valentino is a little... inhuman in this one. I mean, if you want to have valentino as some kind of cross between a deity and a monster in any of his feuds, this is the one. casey's just an obstacle to him. idk don't you think casey kinda wants to chain valentino down and stab him and make him see casey a little more... well, I think he should want it and I think it'd be fun to see and get them to talk to each other. ugh and also all the implications of making the faith vs non-believer elements more literal... casey the heretic!!!

there's some obvious stuff here you'd have to figure out, like 'how do you make this work as a narrative even to people who aren't familiar with casey stoner at all' and 'who the fuck do you think the target audience is here' and 'you do know this is not the kind of thing that would ever be made, right, go back to the casey stoner sports biopic like a sane person' but!! I do think it's material you can make work if you're just,,, efficient and smart in how you're actually telling the 'real life' version of the rivalry. also in my head this is. idk. an animated limited series not a film, which then brings in other stuff like 'episodic structure' because I'm fundamentally opposed to tv shows that think they're films. and look, I'm not going to write an entire film script treatment here, I just think a good writer can figure this stuff out. blood on the ducati is the framing device for everything else, simple. lots of animated floating eyes I reckon, first casey is watching valentino and then valentino is watching casey and the whole world is watching them... and it does bleed into real life just a little, where you're wondering whether casey is actually imagining/dreaming this stuff or valentino is or if they both know it somehow... you can get away with more ambiguity in animation. anyway, if you do want more thoughts on this one specifically for whatever reason, let me know because this one I do actually have more on

also laguna 2008 is a bit tortoise and the hare coded if you really think about it

[end of gore]

so. on to jorge. hm. the thing about jorge is that he was kinda writing a coming of age film in his own head, so like - yes, that's what you do go for? you can play it straight and follow how jorge has cast his rivals, or you can pin the whole narrative on the fact that jorge has cast them - the kinda artificiality of the narrative, the way jorge is this storyteller who isn't being recognised as much as he thinks he should be, isnt adequately appreciated. the way there's this three way discourse between what jorge thinks the story is and what the public thinks the story is and actual. you know. reality. I think this is a bit more light-hearted, like you know how the best stories about teenagers take their emotions seriously but also let them be kinda silly? because young people are silly! jorge was silly! he's got a lot of CHARM because he's so cocky and naive and full on and intense and awkward and kinda off-putting and tactless and a bit all over the place and so painfully, painfully young, like he's a good protagonist because that's a KID. but also, obviously there's also a lot of extremely not light-hearted bits of his story - everything about his father, his manager... idk this one's another one where, I don't just want to make it a generic sports biopic, and I'm trying to figure out the clear narrative arc here? I mean, you can point to the end of 2010 and really lean into him choosing victory on-track over popularity off it. the problem with 2010 is that it does not work as a dramatic season, yeah sure with the magic of biopics you can hack at it to shit but also. idk. what are we getting out of it. I think for narrative purposes you want to maybe narrow in, and end it at the end of 2008, with the switching of the numbers this kind of moment of emancipation? but also! this feels like we're straying a bit too far away from the fun sports elements and I don't want to REALLY suggest all the ways in which you could mine jorge's personal trauma in a jokey tumblr post, so I'm gonna move on from this one

the problem is 2015 just straight up doesn't work as a jorge-centric narrative, except in a very kinda comic way that leans into how absurd his role in that season was. 2012 as a season is a bit... y'know, it's fine. okay it's mostly terrible, but that's fine too. but it doesn't have a great narrative hook. which kinda leads you to the problem that I do think the valentino rivalry is more... juicy from jorge's pov, because for valentino, jorge is just kinda? an obstacle? idk he's more normal about it, it's just his job to destroy the guy, you know how it is. but also 2009 does work better narratively from valentino's pov, like it's the build up to catalunya specifically you can dramaticise... idk though, I do love catalunya but my heart isn't really in this exercise because I think valentino isn't really being... challenged here? it's a title fight where he's fundamentally using a set of tools he's already perfected, to beat a guy he doesn't really give a shit about. when the italian press is down on him pre catalunya, it doesn't spark any genuine self-doubt - it's just a handy source of extra motivation. there's no epic highs or lows that season, not real ones. and yes I know I was talking about making valentino who gets stabbed repeatedly to cover up an infection a moment ago, but that reflected real EMOTIONAL truths!! I'm committed to thematic fidelity more than I am to literal fidelity

genuinely I think the best way to tackle jorge is with the jorge/dani parallel journeys... what, film? tv show? maybe show actually - you don't have one coherent narrative Statement per se but you're constantly charting those journeys in reference to each other, really rooting it in their respective points of views, no neutral detached cinematic language like I want everything to be very much written to be from their eyes!! going from one to the other and back again. and you're charting these different journeys, right, and how they both captured different flavours of like... emotional successes and failures. I think it's actually about failure, yeah, about having to accept there's something you can't have and might never be able to get - whether that's universal love or a premier class title or whatever - but Actually, that might not be the end of the world. and during this process, they go from being enemies to tentative friends!! guys who realise they can maybe actually understand each other better than they thought!! this real moment of interpersonal connection. you have all these media narratives and the managers and so on and the fact they're competitors as these built in reasons why they've just been pitted against each other from the start... but y'know, again, it is also just a bit about maturing, about being able to set that aside, about making your peace with defeat and failure as an element of growing up. you can't win everything, maybe there's something you really really really want and you're just not going to get it, but at the end of the day it's kinda... yeah. self-acceptance. idk this is the nice one

so with marc you can go several different ways here I guess, and again he's also perfectly decent sports biopic material, probably second to casey in that category like yeah sure do the comeback story. but also, we do already have a very good self-produced documentary about what he thinks the narratives of his career are? idk this is also just a personal taste thing, I'll leave him to doing all the injury stuff himself, I don't have much to add there. we'll get to the obvious one in a second, but I was trying to figure out if there were other places I massively felt like you need the cinematic touch. and, again, the 2013 season is obviously very exciting!! but also, you have it covered in.,,,, multiple documentaries, I don't feel I have a take their either? his rivalries with dani and jorge aren't really substantive enough to sustain a bit of cinema. dovi... I mean, what are you saying there? what's the arc? I feel like if I tackled dovi, I'd go somewhere else and really go all in with the ducati stuff, and make it a bit more... you know, stark, stripped back, basically just the emotional component of how much he gave to that project and how he managed to beat away one rival after the next and how it all ended up falling apart in a kind of anti-climactic way? he's also good sports biopic material, but in a way I think the marc rivalry is the bit of his story I have the least to say on. so eg, 2017 is a dramatic season, but he's also kinda fine after it? he always knew it was a long shot, he tried his best and he got really close and then he lost. you can't amadeus it because dovi isn't (fictional) salieri. basically, I think what I'm saying here is that dovi is too well-adjusted to feature in this post. though I'd totally watch a film about his 250cc seasons, like it's a bit annoying because HE is the underdog who loses both title fights to jorge, but it'd still be kinda fun idk. I wouldn't really know what to do with the material but if someone made the film I'd absolutely watch it

right then. the thing about sepang 2015 is... yeah, sure, of course you can do it, it already exists as a narrative but... yeah, what are you adding!! idk I always think when you're adapting something, you kinda need to have a reason for it? I mean, what are you doing that's not already there in the footage? idk maybe this is just a sign of having been a fan of this sport for one too many years but to me the idea of sepang 2015 can get a bit boring (or maybe just repetitive) where I need a new TAKE on it to really get into the idea of fictionalising it. like where's the auteur's touch y'know, what can I still add to this!! but it also needs to WORK for someone who is new to the story, which kinda just makes you want to tell the story straight.... y'know the story is strong enough and COMPLICATED enough to stand on its own and it IS good but I don't really have anything interesting to say beyond 'yeah sure that'e be neat'. I can't tell you why, but I also don't think the casey approach quite works here? the idea of providing a framing device with which valentino and marc can actually talk to each other... eh. don't like that. hm. okay wait actually I just turned it around in my head for... a while and I think I've got an idea to make the worst motorcycle racing film of all time. so, my central stupid film-making gimmick here is just. centring the fact we're completely reliant on a few guys and what they're telling us in making up our minds, and our removal from that story and the imperfection of their perceptions and so on. so I think you kinda make a point of... not actually showing the motorcycle racing? like, you always show it by showing other people watching it, you're showing the tv screen rather than the actual racing. even in the cinematic medium, you're centring the theatrical aspects, where you drill it down to just a few characters. valentino. marc. uccio. marc's fuck ass manager. maybe a crew chief or two. keep it limited though, all the others are kept at a distance - you're constantly focusing in on the same few characters. and very early on you basically just like... get them to fourth wall break by telling you, the viewer, with their actual words how racing works for them, what meaning they take out of it - and again it's this remove because we're never allowed to actually feel the racing for ourselves (no helmet cams), and it sets up that as the tragedy unfolds, again and again we're just hearing from them what happened. it's all zoomed in on how claustrophobic the entire situation is, like doing the race direction room after the sepang 2015 is perfect for that kind of thing, and crucially they're only ever addressing the audience because they can't address each other. but fourth wall breaks also obviously draw attention to artificiality! I realise they are very much like, lame gimmick central, but also are these men not inherently about lame gimmicks... idk it's basically the same story but at least it feels like a kinda interesting way of telling it. kinda trite, but cinema allows you to get to the point and let valentino actually play with the camera... so literally take it into his own hands and lead it around and tell the story from his point of view. and you can play with how they do both change in what stories they think they're telling, how they're constantly revising their own stories, how their stories completely clash with each other... like. make them literal narrators. that's my pitch

so. one interesting pattern that has come up with my approaches to these rivalries is that with the exception maybe of the 2015 stuff, I feel like I'm more naturally inclined to treat valentino as a narrative device and centre his rivals. a big part of this is that valentino is a fantastic narrative device. he's kinda. this looming presence in every narrative in this sport where you can just sort of use him as a sort of way to poke away at all these other riders. the monster everyone loves who you are trapped with. BOO!! he's gonna eat you! which is fun! but ALSO, crucially, several of these rivalries aren't that emotionally challenging for him!! again, with casey right, he wants to beat him, but he's not having a crisis of faith over losing to casey. he thinks casey is annoying, he wants to beat him because he wants to win. valentino is casey's foil, but casey is not valentino's. valentino makes for an excellent personal antagonist to casey, but the reverse just isn't true. casey isn't forcing valentino to reexamine his approach except 'ramping up the levels of being a dick on-track' - like, yes, that's a serious competitive challenge, but also valentino is very comfortable in his own skin in that rivalry. sure, you could have valentino have some kind of massive revelation about the casey rivalry, but like. he doesn't in canon. he changes his behaviour towards casey in pretty predictable ways depending on what the relationship demands from his perspective at any given time. there's nothing more there

now, obviously you know where I'm going here. there IS a rivalry where you can make the argument he changes as a result of it, there IS a rivalry that tips him over the line and makes him to do stuff he hadn't done before that, there IS a rivalry that happens to coincide with a period of his competitive life that challenges him both personally and professionally. now, look, I have already talked about the sete rivalry. you know what I think about this rivalry - and if you don't, I really already have told the story here and here and here and here and also here. I think this works perfectly well as a narrative in its own right, and it's one you can tell from either perspective... but you kinda need both. I think again you probably naturally lean towards starting it from sete's perspective and that first proper meeting (I mean, idk if it is their first actual meeting, but it's the logical obvious place you start this story) with sete giving valentino advice during his first 500cc test and valentino just, y'know, ignoring him and being a cocky shit and then crashing. so you get to see sete being kinda exasperated by the whole thing. also, obviously ibiza is like, a key framing device here, like it's the most obvious in-your-face way of tracking their relationship with each other. I don't actually know how often they partied there together, but it must have been at least twice and if the commentators are to be believed it must have included 2003. artistic license and you can add one or two more times, but mainly you want to focus in on 2003 onwards right. so you've got this 2002 one where it's, y'know, high point of their friendship and in the name of narrative efficiency, you establish here that sete is looking to make the honda switch. the emphasis is on how valentino has been winning everything but on the flip side you're getting the first insight into his discontent. and there's a bit of a vibe of, what could you possibly have to complain about? like you are winning so much? so it's late one night where they've had this slightly unguarded alcohol-fuelled moment of genuine vulnerability but in the end it's actually characterised by how... unsubstantial the link between them is, because they wouldn't talk about this kind of thing with each other and they might both be similar in some ways but also don't gettttttt each other. it means you can return there as a location in 2003, where you've just had sachsenring and valentino's dramatic loss but they're still partying together and it's like. obviously In The Air that not everything is quite right... their relationship is already gradually altered and twisted because you're introducing this element of actual stakes and competition (obviously in 2004 they do NOT spend that time together, as far as we know anyway, and you can show them being very much not together at ibiza as a very obvious Oooh Things Will Fall Apart and maybe already haveeee)

and I do think basically I've already said what I think the themes here are,,,, several times by this point, so I'm not going to belabour the point. I think all of this fundamentally works as a narrative with like, minimal massaging and rearranging of the elements for dramatic effect. it's all there already, everything from sete's arc with the [insert non-tasteless way of covering a real life tragedy that fundamentally alters the course of sete's career] and how that leads to sete becoming the challenger and how he does want to win and his eventual downfall. with valentino, you have the element of liberation and self-discovery and... well, growing into your own but also kinda having the narrative drawing attention to how 'growing into your own' can involve becoming a fully realised character who is essentially quite cruel? you have this kind of... build up, right, towards this moment of revelation, where you lay bare who these two people actually ARE at sepang 2004, and then again at jerez 2005. valentino has gone his own way, he has freed himself from the chains of honda, he has embraced individualism and the chance to define himself and his own legacy and stand on his own two feet and not rely on the strongest bike or all this stuff within honda where they chose him as their flag bearer, for better or for worse... like he comes to his own here! he takes the step from 'great rider' to 'legend' because he gets to this dramatic moment of stepping into the unknown, he takes this massive risk that could have cost him so much, and it ends up elevating him. but it also puts him under duress, and in that moment he reveals himself - whatever sete did or did not do at qatar 2004, EVEN IF sete did all that shit, what you are left with is valentino vowing to ruin this man. valentino uses sete to make himself 'better', to fuel himself as a competitor. valentino turns sete into a tool in his own story. and again, thematically you've got all this stuff about how sete was managing the image of the rivalry and how valentino took advantage of that - how sete needed it to remain respectful and valentino was completely willing to abandon that. like, you have two protagonists who really are similar in quite a few ways, who think they have this shared understanding with each other, but when it comes down to it? they end up being super painfully different

now I can go on about this and how to play it straight, basically, you can just do that rivalry and I think it'd be cool and fun and very easy to arrange in a good narrative way. BUT I've kind of already. done that. like I don't want to suggest a film that is basically a nicer version of my tumblr posts. so I want to take this in a slightly different direction, and I think what we need to consider with this rivalry is this: what if you made the curse literal? basically, what's always kinda charmed me about this rivalry is that the curse should not work and all the misfortune that befalls sete after that is so comical that it's kinda... what do you do with that? and the answer is you just lean all the way in. my pitch is this: what if valentino sells his soul to the devil?

so, you know faust, right, and you know the bit at the start of goethe's faust where god and mephistopheles are basically making a wager over how corruptible this one human is. and faust is like... he's kinda disillusioned, he feels that everything he's dedicated his life to in academia is fundamentally hollow, gets very close to committing suicide. and faust has gone a bit new age-y, gotten into all this mystical shit and he's got this pentagram that ends up preventing mephistopheles from leaving his presence in their first meeting... and basically what the devil can give him is like, the chance to attain some true pleasure, and for that faust is willing to bet everything - so if faust can just have that, then maybe eternal damnation is worth it. and look, I'm not going to summarise the entire plot of faust here and it does go off the wall a bit with all the gretchen stuff, but the point is you have this version of the devil who is fundamentally a cynic and is attempting to win an argument with god by making this human succumb to his own nihilism. and what faust basically does is like, abandon his normal life where he's trying to live by normal virtues and goes off on this journey with the devil. and there's this little moment where mephistopheles,,, pretends to be faust and takes on the role of an academic adviser (you know how it is) and seduces this random student away from the word of god and sends him down a wretched path, which ends with this bit:

like, a big part of faust's tragedy is supposed to be about... well, hubris, of the relationship of god to man, of no longer being afraid of the devil... and obviously, this is all framed very much in terms of religion, but at the end of the day it's also about, you know, having purpose - faust is living a life that no longer has any meaning to him, all of his knowledge and studies now no longer fill the void inside himself. his nihilism opens the door for mephistopheles, and is what makes him willing to accept the devil's terms. now, and I am so very sorry to goethe here, I think we have some material we can use here to explore the valentino/sete rivalry. obviously, you can't do a one-to-one, you need to get rid of some of like, the depression and all that - there were times when valentino was feeling 'a bit low' in 2003, but not 'faust thinking everything he'd done in his entire life was pointless' low, yeah? also, unless you want to do a real long view here and even then it can't really be justified, there obviously isn't really a 'tragedy' here from valentino's perspective. like, he wins! this isn't valentino's tragedy, it's sete's! I was being a bit facetious when I said he was 'selling his soul to the devil', and you can kinda parse mephistopheles' motivations in different ways depending on what flavour and what interpretation of him you're dealing with here. you don't 'damn' valentino, you essentially just turn him into a tool of the devil!

so, this is how this works out in my head: the devil works more broadly as the manifestation of competitive impulses, the kind of 'how far would you go to win' question as a bloke who shows up and literally talks to the characters about it (magic of cinema). he's also engaging with valentino feeling like his victories no longer having meaning, with being disconnected from honda and from the entire culture there and just feeling like he's going through the motions. there's this element of like... opening the door to what is essentially a journey of self-actualisation, bringing him closer to being a 'god' but also allowing him to fully come into his own and become himself. to win on his own terms. I reckon ibiza is my preferred narrative device where the devil talks both to sete and valentino there (separately), first literally as a mysterious stranger and then... maybe not? he's talking to them at times of their lives when they're not at ibiza and it's not happening there in the physical world and they both end up kinda having to confront they're dealing with some potentially malevolent supernatural entity. but the important elements of the devil is that a) he's not going to do anything the humans don't actually ask for themselves, and b) everyone knows he's following his own agenda and you should be careful of the requests you make of him. so it's kinda like... essentially, the backdrop of this rivalry unfolding is they're constantly being challenged to decide what lines they're willing to cross. which culminates at qatar... and maybe you do have sete making like. a teensy mistake. a teensy error in judgement, one that is both real and deliberate but he could not have known would get that reaction and instantly regrets. and valentino, who is I think inherently sceptical of the devil coming to offer to help him and maybe does crank out the pentagrams (remember, the whole point of faust is that he was too arrogant to be scared of the devil, or one of the points anyway), in a moment of fury does decide - no, actually. I will take that step. I will curse sete. now the thing is, dramatically this is a teensy bit tricky because when you're talking about being damned by the devil, usually the consequences are a bit more severe than 'not winning a motorcycle race again' (yes, you can get into how sete did also seem genuinely cursed after that, cf his ambulance/bus crash situation, but again we are flirting with being in poor taste in this tumblr post). but the thing is, right, you have to lean into the silliness here! qatar 2004 is inherently silly, a CURSE is inherently silly, like real life is already silly here! you have to engage with the people where they are, and for these athletes all this shit is so heightened that the emotions are full on. like, valentino would've sold that guy to the devil! and to him not winning another race is basically the worst thing that can happen

so, obviously, you get to do the actual curse stuff. curses are inherently campy fun, the devil doing curses is campy fun, getting valentino rossi to crank out the pentagrams is inherently campy fun. you get to play around with this, right, like you know that bit in the brno 2005 race commentary where the commentators are talking about how valentino might as well have a little radio to talk into sete's helmet to remind him of how sete had fucked up at the sachsenring. OBVIOUSLY obviously obviously it is just so... idk scrunchy and fun to have this idea of valentino becoming a malevolent enough force to literally do that.... like damn the commentators did kinda eat with that?? ughhhhhh do you ever think about sete leading the qatar 2005 race for most of the way???? like that's SO fucked up because you literally have articles from about the race going 'hey maybe sete can break his curse' and then the commentators are talking about curses having one year expiration dates but obviously they!! do not!!!!! there's one race where sete goes off track and the commentators are talking about how valentino will surely have smiled into his helmet like that's so fucked!! it's so fucked!! but idk I think basically you have all this creeping curse-y stuff and devil stuff and then you get this twist and then it just becomes misery zone for sete until you sort of. compress the timeline and have him retire without getting into what happened at the end of 2006. and valentino just relishing in all his very worst emotions. and you've got sete who was the better man after jerez 2005, who took the high ground again and again and again and it did NOTHING for him.... and then he's cursed and his career is finished and the devil has had his fun getting mixed in with mid noughties motogp. and now obviously this is inherently kinda dumb and corny and silly but it's the devil!! mephistopheles to me is allowed to get up to dumb shit sometimes, let him have some fun!! idk I like curses being literal idc

I think the obvious critique here is 'this doesn't really feel like it gets the message of faust'. which, yes, is true - and obviously the way narratives are structured, a satisfying resolution isn't 'well selling your soul kinda slaps, actually'. and my statement to respond to this argument is as follows:

this is essentially canonically what happened. valentino DID do something kinda evil and it DID work out 100% for him and it DID kinda slap. at least when you add in the devil, you're making explicit the bit where it is a little bit bad. also, is sports not inherently about selling your soul for success... the story of valentino and sete is essentially about how we are twisted by competition, how pretending that we don't wish ill to our opponents is inherently dishonest. it is about lifting a facade for something that is already inherently there in the souls of men. this is obviously inherently a deeply cynical stance, but this is also a deeply cynical story beyond all the fun battles and camp dramatics. the devil is a cynic and he is basically the point of view character of goethe's faust - he's the one who is positioned closest to the audience. sports is all about living out some of humanity's worst instincts in a relatively low stakes setting, which means we get a free pass to have fun with a deeply cynical story that goes 'maybe selling your soul to the devil is fine, actually'

do I stand by this stance? not really, but the whole fun of storytelling is that sometimes you can just be kinda mean. I think goethe would get it... you can tell which character he enjoyed writing the most

the OTHER way you can do this is centre everything around qatar 2004 as like,,, the mystery box element...... okay look I have now made two posts that go WAY too deep on the 'what really happened' element but I do loveeeeee the whole thing like I would just make a film about that very end of the season and we show it from all these different angles as different characters narrate what happened... like fuck all the riders I want to hear from whichever mechanic used the scooter... the gresini mechanic who gave evidence to race direction.... various honda higher ups the crew chiefs like this is jb vs juan martinez it's war!!! obviously you still have the same emotional/thematic hooks as the general rivalry does but idk I would have a LOT of fun figuring out how to structure that, I loveeee mysteries... maybe I'd write it as a mockumentary yeah..... this one's just fun

anyway. a lot of stuff going on in this post, huh! you can probably tell I didn't edit this much. my classic tell when I edit my tumblr posts is I remember how 'paragraphs' work. unfortunately all I have energy for are like. a bunch of rants about things in my brain. I think when tumblr tells you that you've reached the maximum number of characters per paragraph and you need to figure out where to put a break, it's probably a bad thing? on the whole, my stance is I don't have anything AGAINST mildly fictionalised versions, but for me I'm always more of a.... well I want to take advantage of the full specificity of the events as they happened or just come up with a completely original story. kind of person. I know this ask probably wasn't looking for my 'what if you bled out valentino as he's strung up above a red motorcycle' vision but yeah. with a lot of biopics I'm always a bit 'well you could just read about this couldn't you' like I need stuff to take some kind of a stance on the material it's using... all my stuff takes a stance. that's all I've got. obviously all these stances mean that basically none of these things could ever be made. and I know what I said above but if they called me up to write the casey stoner biopic script treatment, I would also do that. if you've actually read to this point, give me a shout - you're a real one and I love you

#spec tag #casey's power is such that after half a decade of having weird hang-ups about valentino #he finally got valentino to have weird hang-ups about him #like sometimes u get these comments where ur like... huh casey doesn't this feel. a bit much. like this is a bit much #and then valentino sees it and goes????? wow FUCK this guy. and then they just keep doing it. like adults #this is the thing right. if i'd broken my leg and the main things one of my two biggest rivals says about me in those months is #a) 'the race in britain was so much nicer because that guy's fans weren't there :)'#and b) 'idk why everyone's making such a big deal about this guy being immediately fast on his extremely premature return'#'it's just a leg break he probably only lost some muscle mass'#i think i'd probably also be a bit ?? especially since the rivalry really wasn't THAT bad before 2010 it really wasn't!!#but then by 2011 casey managed to completely fry valentino's brain and it just goes off the CLIFF like it is so!! undignified!!#it's funny because it's definitely the rivalry valentino got over the quickest #but in terms of sheer hit rate of insults. like just raw frequency. when they were going at it. this ranks number one in vale feuds!!#(btw a big GLARING tell that the marc thing is weird and special is that he is *right* on the opposite end of the spectrum)#(like i think this can be tricky for people to clock but it's actually Notable how little day to day conflict those two had post 2015)#and obviously casey's still not over it. which again is DEEPLY understandable but also a littleeeeee bit funny (love you casey)#the way he still yaps on about jerez 2011!! a racing incident in the wet!! like it is kinda... well yeah. funny. when you contextualise it #idk it's just cute to me how they had completely different experiences of that rivalry #to the point where they just don't Get what's going on for the other guy. they just don't get it!!#hitherto unknown levels of 'what is this guy's PROBLEM' it's so!! they're so!!#this is how you get casey talking about wanting to explain his pov of the rivalry to valentino over dinner. this is how you get that #and it still wouldn't work!! isn't that amazing. they're going to go to their graves being vaguely baffled by the other guy's deal #//#brr brr #i put all my best analysis in tags for a read more x2 post. this one's for the real ones. all two of you #casey has a shorter sample size of a career to work with but do NOT get it twisted that is my number one girl!! my beautiful sister #my poor troubled neurotic paranoid delicate prodigy conspiracy theorist magical girl anime protagonist #casey would have an aneurysm if he read those words but is that not. the point #luminous yellow tag

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nyctoaerah · 7 months ago

Note

yandere satosugu x female reader? can you do jealousy headcanons (like what makes them jealous and/or what they do when they get jealous)? sorry if that wasn’t specific enough!

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere behavior (duh) murder, possessiveness, gore. (Ooc maybe) satoru being an oa little shit. Poly relationship.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Satosugu x Fem! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: WHAHAHA i didn’t knew if you wanted it to be separate or not anon, you said satosugu so i immediately assumed that it was a threesome. But heree, some hc’s:33 sorry pookie, i got lazy on suguru’s part:< SJAKEKSKA i did this first cause hc’s are the easiest to write💀💀💀

Masterlist

🔪Satoru struggles with pervasive jealousy issues, particularly when it comes to you and Suguru.

🔪This dude is like the embodiment of jealousy. he’s so envious he’s practically green with it. Hell he’s even jealous of himself. There was this one time he bet he could pull off dressing up as a girl for a dare, and oh boy, did he go all out. But then he got all pouty when you gushed all over him and got all touchy, something that you don’t really do often. And his reason of getting jealous with himself? He thought that you prefer him as a girl, like hello? you were supposed to prefer the original satoru and not his genderbent!

🔪But seriously, this guy’s jealousy knows no bounds. If Suguru flashes a flirty grin at someone else, bam, jealousy strikes. And if you dare compliment another soul? Jealousy overload. You hugged another man that isn’t suguru? He’s trying to force himself not to throw hands. This dude craves all the attention, all the affection, like a toddler hoarding toys in a playgroup. He’s aware he’s selfish, probably knows it’s not the best look, but he’s powerless against the possessiveness that overtakes him when it comes to you and Suguru. You both have this unique power to bring out the best and worst in him, after all, you two were the only one who sees him as “Satoru” and not as the “Strongest.”

🔪Satoru’s neurotic tendencies and jealousy issues stemmed from his messed-up childhood. The poor guy got stripped of his carefree youth and was thrust into the adult world way before his time after all. the jealousy bug bit him hard when he saw other kids having the time of their lives, while he was stuck with grown-ups fawning over him and expecting way too much and pressuring him. That childhood envy stuck to him like glue, and it grew into a full-blown mess when you, him, and Suguru became an item.

🔪The thing that grinds Satoru’s gears the most and the absolute worst, is when you and Suguru says something about other people’s eyes like; “Their eyes is so pretty” Blah, blah, blah, bullshit like that. It kills him inside that you don’t shower the same love on his eyes. His eyes are prettier, more powerful, and literally very unique, and you hardly ever mention how beautiful it is.

🔪Satoru absolutely loathes it when you’re completely oblivious to someone flirting with you. He’ll shoot menacing glares at the culprit when you’re not paying attention, as if daring them to keep it up, and he would end up threatening them.

🔪Satoru doesn’t bother in hiding his emotions, he’ll whimper, pout, and stick to you and Suguru like glue. And would play the melodramatic card, guilt tripping you. Or he’ll just straight up threaten you or tell suguru about how naughty you are.

🔪🔪🔪

Satoru’s head rested delicately upon your lap as your dexterous fingers ran through his snow white tresses. He gazed at you upward, sky blue eyes peeking from beneath his snowy eyelashes.

“Can you give me your phone for a minute baby? I just wanna do something”

Without pause for consideration, you obliged his request and gave the phone into his outstretched hand.

“Yeah, sure, here.” You responded with a hum.

“What are you gonna do with it, anyways?” You questioned, before your eyes widened as you saw how satoru’s digits hastened across the interface, focused intently on blocking specific contacts from further reaching your line.

“Huh, ‘Toru, what the hell?”

“Wait—why are you blocking them? Those are my—” Your words faded as Satoru lifted his head from your lap and moves away from you, his piercing gaze fixed on yours as he gently grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb.

“Why do you always insist on conversing with them, hmm? Do you like them?”

“What— no! It’s not like that, what the fuck?”

“If you really love me and Suguru, then you have to sever ties with that girl/guy and keep your distance, okay?”

🔪Suguru really isn’t the jealous type, because he’s all about trust and loyalty when it comes to you and Satoru—He trusts you two.

🔪But, every now and then, a feeling of jealousy creep up inside him when he sees you and Satoru hanging out and having fun without him. He tries to brush it off though, understanding that you two are really close. He just wants to see his pretty lovers smiling, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

🔪When Suguru starts feeling jealous, it’s not a pretty sight. Beneath that kind and laid-back exterior lies a man who doesn’t really forgive that much. Suguru doesn’t forgive, and he doesn’t forget.

🔪Suguru may be a master at concealing his jealousy, but when it does surface, it’s like a storm crashing down. Picture this: you innocently text someone he’s really jealous of, and before you know it, your phone is pulled from your hands and tossed across the room while he summons a cursed spirit to destroy it completely, only to be replaced with a brand-new one moments later. Oh, and that person you were casually chatting with? It’s either you can consider them ghosted or consider them dead.

🔪Mentioning your ex around him was a big no-no. Because it immediately triggers him. can’t you just keep the spotlight on him and Satoru? One tiny mention of your ex’s name or Satoru reminiscing about his past flings, and Suguru’s mood immediately becomes sour.

🔪In stark comparison to Satoru, Suguru remains nonchalant about compliments being thrown around. He’s all for lifting people up until those compliments take a flirtatious turn. If that line is crossed, however, his cursed spirits will have its new meal.

🔪If Suguru was jealous and it led to an argument between you two, he would turn on his ultimate weapon—the silent treatment. He’d nonchalantly start hanging out with other people, making sure you noticed just to annoy you and make you jealous. He was well aware of his petty tendencies, but deep down, he simply wished for you to drop the bratty act and apologize.

🔪If you don’t really apologize and just pushed him over the edge... Well, you’ll have to say goodbye to your sanity because suguru is brutal as fuck when it comes to giving punishment.

🔪Unlike Satoru, who would guilt trip and manipulate you, Suguru would take it up a notch on the intensity scale. He wouldn’t shy away from using violence after all. And that doesn’t only apply to the person that he’s envious of, that applies to you too, and satoru. But that’s the difference, Satoru is a good boy, and you’re not.

🔪Suguru would be more than glad to kill someone in front of you and force you to watch it after all. He’ll hurt you too if you thrash and scream instead of being a good girl.

And you can’t really escape the both of them, after all, their love is like a noose.♡

🔪🔪🔪

Suguru’s hand forcefully clamped over your quivering lips, stifling any cries that tried to escape. His breath was hot against your skin, his fingers digging into your flesh with an iron grip, rendering you immobile. The metallic tang of blood invaded your nostrils. Your eyes were wide with terror, pupils shrinking, and your pulse quickening. A sickening view of gore played out before your horrified gaze, crimson splattering the walls, each nauseating squelch echoing through the room.

“I told you to stay away from them and you didn’t listen...” Suguru whispers, his breath hot against your neck, his delicate mouth parting to suck hard upon your pulsing skin, his mouth works its way slowly along your skin. And you shudder involuntarily beneath his touch, fear coursing through you as his lips close around a patch of flesh, sucking hard.

“See...? This is what happens when you disobey.”

The sharp prick of his teeth sends bolts of pain ricocheting through your body. Your already unsettled stomach lurches violently at the sight that greets you as you raise your head, struggling against his grip.

Before you, bound fast to a wooden chair, was the friend you had jokingly flirted with. Tears stream unchecked down their pallid cheeks, mingling with traces of dried blood, as their cries continue to ring in your ears.

Every limb was callously severed, Their bones was protruding out—the metacarpal bones, the carpal bones, the humerus, the ulna, the fibula, and other bones, Their arms and legs are covered in long, vivid scarlet lines that are three inches wide, intersecting each other in a crisscross pattern and the wounds appear to have breached the surface of their skin, While suguru’s cursed spirits feeds on their severed flesh.

With a low, self-satisfied hum, Satoru drags the tip of the scalpel upwards your friend’s cheek, cutting them and the skin opens, revealing their inner facial muscle. He then reaches out to grasp a fistful of your friend’s hair, yanking their head back sharply to force clouded eyes up to meet your own.

“Suguruuuu, what do i do next? Do we gouge their eyes out for looking at our pretty girl that way?”

“Do it. She said that she likes their eyes anyways... She’s probably implying that she prefers their eyes over yours.” Suguru smirks, humming as he pressed his body against yours, enjoying the way satoru’s face suddenly fell.

“Haah... Looks like i’ll be enjoying gouging their eyes then.”

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xxsunoosprincess · 8 months ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you could do a request of Enha legal line with a virgin S/O and how they would have sex with them the first time? Thank you so much if you answer 💕!!

ofc cutie!! such a sweet request, I’m happy to write this :3 fair warning, I feel like I got a lil nasty on a couple of these…

Enhypen’s first time with their virgin s/o (OT6)

pairings: enhypen legal line x reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, reader has fem genitalia, pussy job, corruption kink, a bit of awkwardness and reassurance

Heeseung

“Just the tip” ass mfer. Wants to make sure you are enjoying yourself and are sufficiently soaked so it doesn’t hurt. Keeps your cute pink panties on while rutting his cockhead against your covered folds. When you beg him to do more, he pulls your now soaked panties to the side to expose your glistening pussy. Moans so loud when you gasp at the exposure to the cold air.

Continues to fuck himself against your cunt, leaking head nudging your sensitive little clit. “You ready, love? I’ll just… I’ll just put a little bit in, okay?” as he pants above you. Keeps good on his promise, fucking you on just the first couple inches of his dick until you are creaming all over him.

Jay

He… heheheheh he’s sick in the head. His cock fills out immediately when you tell him you are a virgin, all shy and blushing underneath him. Jay considered himself above typical boyish desires, but this. Fuck. “It’s okay baby, I’ll be gentle with you.”

Knowing that he’s the first to see you like this. He’s the first to see your cunt up close. He’s the first to kiss the whines out of your mouth telling you to quiet down before the boys hear you. His cock is the first to feel the warm insides of your pussy. He has to hold back from fucking you immediately, both for your sake and because he thinks he is going to bust the moment he slips in.

Jake

I know a lot of people say Jake is a fuck boy, but lowkey I think he is a virgin too. He can’t help that he is a flirt! He always leave you blushing, so imagine how shocked you are when he finally gets you into bed, shaking hands caressing you, and he blushes when you whisper out “Jakey… you’ll have to tell me how, it’s my first time”.

He counters with wide eyes and a punched out “I’ll try but umm… it’s my first time too.” Really eases a lot of nerves both of you are emitting, knowing that you are both going into this on the same page. Sexual tension isn’t fragile, and I think that stays true for y’all, lots of embarrassed chuckles and quick finishes. It’s a lovely, memorable night <3

Sunghoon

Definitely plans it out, maybe more nervous than you are. Once he has the knowledge that you plan on giving your virginity to him, he gets crazy. Surprisingly, not in a horny way but in a neurotic ‘I don’t know what to do’ way. He just really wants to make this special for you. Picks out a date, wines and dines you, but hasn’t thought through what to do when he actually has you laid out in front of him.

He sits on his knees between your spread legs, back propped up with the fluffiest pillows he could find. His fingers barely graze your calf before he pulls back as if he was burned. You might be offended by it if you couldn’t see the clear concern in his eyes. “Hoonie, it’s okay. I want this. I want you.” is the magic words to get him to break from where he was frozen in his spot, surging forward to kiss you. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be weird. You are just so special to me, I don’t want to mess this up.” Maybe doesn’t fuck you tonight, but you guys get much more comfortable with eachother.

Sunoo

Appears calm on the surface but if you look close you can hear the shake in his voice and the tears welling up in his eyes. So honored that you trust him with something like this. Even if it’s not a big deal to you, it is to him. Sunoo is all tender touches and soft kisses.

However, he is still a man. Once you give him the go ahead, his hips are jack-rabbiting into yours. It’s in missionary, short and powerful thrusts punching out little “hah, hah, hah”s with each movement. Never stops kissing you. Slows down with sensual rocks of his hips, holding you tightly. Smiling and professing his love for you, completely pussy drunk and it’s your first time together <3 maybe this is just me self inserting, but you both definitely cry as you cum together.

Jungwon

I think wonie might also be a virgin. He’s been so focused on his career and practicing, that he never had time to explore himself. Honestly, I don’t think his sex drive was that high, so when you came into his life he was shocked. Jungwon has never jerked off so much in his life. Every night he is whining and trashing in his sheets thinking about you, feels like such a pervert but he can’t help it.

When there is finally enough time in both of your schedules he takes you straight to bed! Makes sure to finger you and eat you out and make you cum three times before he even gets his dick close to your pussy… he has been fantasizing about this so much he knows he will bust immediately. Has to make sure his girl is just as satisfied as he is by the time he finishes.

END.

a/n: uptick in virgin content on my page recently… what does that mean. xx - princess

tag list: @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (dm or fill out form in navigation to be added)

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cinnamonest · 4 months ago

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//slutshaming

Thinking a boy with a horrid case of retroactive jealousy, especially with a slut!darling… this obsessive boy who can’t stand the thought of knowing you’ve been with other men, let alone many.

Really, most men just don't think about those things, they know it's better they don't know. But he’s neurotic about it. He can’t just push the thought away. He has to know. Know exactly how many boyfriends you’ve had, how many hookups you had, every act you’ve done. It’s horrifically embarrassing, having to recall, having to talk about it, the words you have to use.

You’ve been in this man’s captivity long enough that your instinct is to placate him, to avoid upsetting him… yet in this situation, there’s no good way out. If you’re honest… well, you don’t want to think about that. You know you’ve been around the block, so to speak. But you know you can’t lie to him — he’s been through your phone, he saw the outfits you paraded yourself around in back when he watched you from a distance (it’s what caught his attention in the first place), he knows it’s got to be a lot.

You try and placate him with avoidance, tell him it doesn’t matter right? You’re with him now, you try to sputter out, and you’ve forgotten about it all anyway and the past doesn't change—

—and then he puts his hand around your throat before you can finish.

Tell me.

He asks too many questions. You try and say as little as possible, but he presses you until you say everything, keeping your eyes to the floor the whole time. You have to recall a chronological series of events of your life, every encounter, every guy, every act you’ve done.

Did you ever sleep with a guy within twenty-four hours of knowing him? Taken it in your throat, your ass, between your tits? Let some guy cum inside you? Been choked? He’s really focused on those details. Have you ever done this, or that, or done it in this position or that, or done it this way or that. Which, for his beloved darling, the answer is usually yes.

It irritates him that he can’t be the first of anything. You just had to go be a whore when he was eventually destined to come along and love you. How could you do this to him? You had to know you’d have a real lover eventually. Didn’t you consider his feelings at all?

The only thing that can make him feel better — what you owe him, for what you’ve done — is to have him override all those memories with himself.

He has to replicate everything.

You’re not sure what the logic is exactly, but it’s cathartic for him, and you know that the wise move is to comply, not wanting to further upset this crazed man that keeps you trapped in his home. You have to prove that you love him, is what he says.

So he treats it like a checklist. Every position and every act, barring the circumstantial pieces he'd have to take you outside the home for. And you know what, you're probably still not telling him everything — dumb little slut — so he'll just have to do every single thing he can think of, over and over and over. Each and every day.

You'll get a lot of variance in your sex life, at least. Bent over every surface, in every position he can think of. Treating you like a little ragdoll to play with and contort into any position. Treating your ass and throat as interchangeable with your pussy on command (you love him don't you? Then you won't mind), squeezing your body so tightly you can't breathe. Keeping his cock inside you at every opportunity for as long as he can even after he cums.

If he can't be the first, he'll just have to be the most. Do it more than you've ever done with anyone, harder than you've ever had it, deeper, faster, more brutally, more degrading and humiliating, carving his significance into you in the only way left available — the only way you left available to him.

Yes, it's your fault. He wouldn't have to be so rough if he was the only one. He only has to make it hurt because of you. This is the only way that he can be certain that he matters more than anyone, be sure that he occupies your every thought and that you can't think of any kind of sex without thinking of him first — and if you really love him like you say you do, surely you'll understand. Maybe even apologize for not taking him into consideration. That would be nice.

But of course, those guys wronged him too. That's why, if you love him, you'll tell him their names.

What? Why, you ask? That shouldn't matter. You don't still care about him, do you…? You're not such a little whore that you’re thinking about someone else that way, are you? No? Then you won't care why, you'll answer and be happy you have someone to care about you so much.

#need to make more slut!darling content...#the feminine urge to project myself onto an ultra-promiscuous party girl... hhhnng #yan.txt

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littlemarianah · 3 months ago

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I have a headcannon that it was Peeta's mother who used to decorate the bakery's cakes before him.

She learned it as soon as she married the baker, and is kinda good at it.

Maybe that's why she's so picky about the cakes Peeta makes. "If I had done it..." is what she always says when is about to criticize him. But the truth is that the boy is so good that it's difficult to find something in his cakes to complain.

Peeta took his mother's artistic essence. She is good at crafts, always painting the bakery sign with elegant calligraphy, decorate them with flower designs.

Mrs. Mellark would be a good artist if it weren’t for her complete lack of imagination. For her the books are nonsense, and the illustrations are children’s drawings.

That’s why she didn’t let Peeta draw too much when he was growing up. “go do something useful.” She said “You will not learn to knead bread making doodles.”

She never wanted to be a baker, she never wanted the life she chose, but she knew it was the only way. Her father was a drunk, her mother was neurotic

She didn't choose her husband out of love. She chose him because he was stable, because he was disciplined, because he could be a good father. She didn't have children because she wanted to be a mother, but because she needed more hands to work.

The first was planned, the second tolerated, the third an accident.

After the games, when Peeta returned home, limping and with deep-set eyes. She went to visit him a few times in the victors village.

Peeta's house wasn't organized like she taught him to leave his room. Was a mess. His room was full of pages with scribbles, tubes of paint amd unfinished paintings. Art and more art, everywhere... Mrs. Mellark didn't even know that her son still painted. After he became a teenager, was good at hiding who he really was from his mother. She never saw him draw again, but the truth is that the little artist she tried to repress so much never stopped drawing.

Drawings of landscapes and places, many doodles from the small bakery where he grew up. Drawings of people, neighbors, customers, many drawings of the hunting girl. Peeta paints her much better than she really looks, without marks, without scars, without the frown she has. For Mrs. Mellark, it's just another sign of the madness her son has fallen into.

To the woman’s surprise, she find some drawings of herself, all unfinished. Peeta always seems to stop drawing when he get on her face. Lots and lots of unbedded scribbles of herself. She has always preferred to be feared than loved, to be the tough guy when her soft husband doesn’t have the courage to discipline his children. But it pains her to see that her husband’s drawings at least had the decency to be finished before being thrown into the pile of forgotten scribbles.

Peeta. Her youngest boy. Weak like his father, sentimental, scared, soft. She was perhaps a little heavy on him growing up. She saw how very fragile he was when he was little. He wasn't like his brothers, Peeta was always an outsider. And she always saw that... So she doesn't even try to scold him for the mess in his house.

After he came back to the games she could only see in him the small, scared boy who always tried to hide under her skirt when he was young. And with that memory, comes all the times she pushed him away and told him to become a man. That a six-year-old boy shouldn't cry like a soft girl.

But Mrs. Mellark regrets nothing, even if the memories make her uncomfortable. Was because of that he won the Hunger Games. She taught him to endure, she turned the weak boy into a grown man. She never apologized for that, even though her son hates her forever.

She didn't visit him much in the victor's village, but one of the few times she did, Peeta thought she would fill him with complaints about the dirty house. But she just does said:

"It's not because you're crippled that you have to stay inside this house all day, go sunbathe and open the curtains." And then she left a fresh loaf of bread on the kitchen table and when home.

That was it.

One of the last interactions Peeta had with his mother before she died. Buried under the rubble of the bakery that she fought her entire life to maintain, with the children she raised to become respectable bakers. Men enough to take care of their wives and children. Everything she fought for her entire life was left in ashes and the only one of the boys left was the one she never thought would prosper.

Peeta misses her sometimes.

He thinks his eldest daughter looks like her grandmother a bit. Big blue eyes and dimples on her cheeks. He sometimes thinks he even forgives his mom, not all the time, but sometimes. Peeta misses her discipline and resilience. Sometimes he wants to hear her voice telling him to stop whining and come back with his head held high.

Perhaps the only lesson she taught him and stuck with him until the end is that the Mellarks never give up. Every morning, they wake up early, turn on the oven and work until sunset. That the Mellarks are never content with little, that they never accept mediocrity.

So he teaches his children to lift their heads after a defeat, to try again after they fail. Because The Mellarks never give up.

#the hunger games #sorry for the typos #I cried a little writing this #peeta mellark #headcanon #mrs. mellark #mommy issues #thg #character essay

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bougiebutchbitch · 5 months ago

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Friend: why do you ship G1 Megastar

Me: oh, easy! It's a toxic, codependent, fucked-up-but-fairly-equal relationship between two terrible people! That's my whole jam.

Friend: okay so why do you ship tfp Megastar?

Me: well...

Look - first off, shipping doesn't mean 'viewing in a romantic light'. It means 'oh my god these guys have an interesting dynamic and so much history. I want them to divorce and never see each other again, and for both of them to heal and grow separately - but I also want Starscream to brutally murder Megatron because that would be cathartic for me, personally'

Tfp Megastar is blatant abuse - flavoured with hints that they Used To Be Something, only their once-noble ideals were warped by the war! Megatron fell back into the cycle of abuse and violence he's been trapped in his whole life - since he was a literal slave! Starscream is his favourite victim.

But because he and Megatron had very different coping mechanisms when facing abuse and brutality, Megatron feels justified in looking down on Starscream for fawning and freezing rather than fighting back.

(hell, a part of Megatron wishes Starscream would fight back because in his mind that would be Growth for his cowardly little lieutenant, even if Megatron would just fucking annihilate him. Meanwhile, Starscream knows he's brutally outmatched, which is why he begs and sobs and pleads because it's literally his only option from his perspective. A survival tactic is a survival tactic is a survival tactic; one is not morally superior to another. But try telling Megatron that, lol)

There were good times but they DO NOT make up for the horrific bad times. But there were still good times, y'know?

Anyway, Starscream continued the abuse cycle to a lesser degree with Knock Out and the drones (and later the Predacons), because he cannot conceive of any other way to be Powerful. He is so fucking insecure and has internalised a lot of the way Megatron talks to him as being true, even if outwardly he projects a narcissistic self-obsessed veneer of confidence.

BUT HE STILL ABUSES OTHERS JUST LIKE MEGATRON WHENEVER HE GETS THE CHANCE! LET'S NOT PRETEND OTHERWISE!!! THAT'S STILL VERY MUCH A THING!

Anyway. Things change for the better! Starscream walks the fuck away because he's sick and tired of being Megatron's punching bag!

It just... doesn't last.

He can't build a life for himself in part because he has 0 support network, but also because he's a self-obsessed neurotic bastard (whether as a survival tactic where he's learnt for so long that it's safest to only care for himself, or because he's just a trashy person, ymmv). He fails at meshing into the Autobots even as a Neutral.

So he goes back to Megatron and begs for another chance.

He gives up on all hopes of being anything but Megatron's lackey for him to smack about as he sees fit - but Megatron also stops hitting him? He seems to realise that treating Starscream that way was just fucking him up???

Of course, this doesn't mean things are miraculously fixed, or that the abusive dynamic is broken. It isn't even the typical 'honeymoon phase' you see in abusive relationships. It's... worse.

Because Starscream is desperate for Megatron's acknowledgement and respect. With every snub from Megatron, he fucks up more in his panicked scrabble to Prove Himself Worthy. Although he proves his competence on occasion, he doesn't get anywhere near enough appreciation to fill that BLATANT gaping hole within him that's sooooo desperate to be seen and loved, and still obviously feels very precarious and paranoid in his position within the Decepticons.

But like. Megatron does protect him from Dreadwing. And I suspect Starscream reads a bit too much into that, believing that their Bad Times are behind them and he finally has Megatron's respect.

(Which. No. But from an abuse survivor's standpoint, clinging to scraps to paint a shinier picture of your relationship... hahaha relatable right????)

Anyway - then they reach the final battle.

Megatron fucking dies.

And Starscream is screaming and clawing and trying desperately to reach him - the monster who hurt him more than anyone else, who stood with him in the burning ruins of an Autobot base and smiled at him like he was proud! Starscream has to be physically carried away by an ally to stop him running to Megatron's corpse!

ONLY WHOOPS, SPOKE TO SOON.

MEGATRON IS REVIVED BY THE ROBOT DEVIL. After which he... basically treats Starscream like he's entirely inconsequential. They defeat the robot devil, and Megs gives some shitty speech about Losing His Taste For Tyranny - but hardly fucking looks at Starscream, the guy who was literally shaped by that tyranny, before jetting off to space to live Happily Ever After

Leaving Starscream. Fuming. Furious.

He flies off alone to continue the Decepticon legacy - because how could Megatron walk away after everything? After everything he's done to their species? To their world? To Starscream?

Only he's not as alone as he thought.

Starscream finds himself facing three vengeful Predacons, who he spent the earlier season treating like shit in a direct parallel of how Megatron treated him. And they tear him apart while he screams and sobs and begs to be spared. Just like he used to beg Megatron.

Sooooo yeahhhhh all of this has been living rent-free in my head since I was like, 13 lol

Friend:

#megastar #megatron #starscream #tfp starscream #tfp megatron #tfp #transformers prime #maccadam #this is half canon and half headcanon haha

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mediumgayitalian · 5 months ago

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“Hello, twerp.”

Kayla grunts at him. She is focused, intently, on something small enough to be covered up by her hands and curtaining hair; Nico decides it is likely some kind of explosive. There is a reason she, Banned From Arts ‘n’ Crafts For Criminal Reasons, is sneaking into the Hermes’ cabin’s time slot and hiding behind Julia.

Instead of confirming that she is, indeed, planning to blow up at least one of her brothers’ bunks in their sleep tonight, because of Plausible Deniability, Nico swings a leg over the picnic table bench, settling in next to her. She spares a second of attention to blow a raspberry at him, seemingly unprovoked. Nico reaches calmly over, plucks a pair of scissors from Connor’s hands, which he allows because of who he is as a person, and snips a piece of her hair. In response she pulls a notebook from her pocket and puts a little tick mark next to Nico’s name.

“So,” Nico says, choosing to ignore that. “I have a Question.”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’m not paying you, you little shit.”

“Then wonder in silence.”

Nico digs two wrinkled fives from his shoe and slams them on the table, scowling. Kayla pockets them.

“Proceed.”

Nico glares at her, noting her twitching mouth, and remembers that he does, in fact, need her help, and her brother is, in fact, his best friend, so challenging her to a duel to the death is a bad idea on both counts.

(Nonwithstanding the part where she has deadly accuracy with any projectile from almost any semi-reasonable distance. And he has, like, a sword. So.)

“Your brother,” he starts, and he does not need to clarify which one, “is always trying to…feed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “he is internally a seventy year old Southern woman. He does that.”

“Fruits.”

“Hm.”

“Oranges, specifically. Like, every single meal.”

“…Ah.”

It is a very knowing ah, Kayla’s little noise, and in fact she sets her project aside. (It is, in fact, an explosive.) She turns slightly on the bench to face him, lips pursed, hands folded. She blinks at him for several moments. Nico holds her gaze, remembering he is out ten dollars.

“My dear brother,” she begins, “my lovely, kind-hearted, smiley, morning person brother, is neurotic.”

Nico waits. This is, apparently, the end of her sentence, as she does not continue.

“I am aware,” he says slowly. “I have been present during every rant about Hollywood inaccuracies about medical sciences.”

She nods sagely. “This is true. You have. You are, however, by virtue of his cripplingly low self esteem and fervent belief that his mere existence is a Literal Actual Curse, spared from much of his most…colourful…contingencies.”

“Contingencies,” Nico repeats.

Kayla nods again.

“Yes. You see, dear future brother-in-law —”

“Cease,” Nico snaps, reddening.

“— our lovely William, also known as your Special Guy, according to Nico With Severe Blood Loss.” continues Kayla, not ceasing, “is under the impression that you, like all people, have a Limit.”

“…A Limit.”

“Yes. A point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.”

“I know what a godsdamn limit is, Kayla.”

“You seemed confused.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Openly snickering to herself, she moves on.

“He feeds you oranges because he regularly paces around the cabin in the middle of the night stressing about your vitamin levels,” she explains, finally. “He doesn’t know how to tell you that like a normal person because he’s afraid he’s going to weird you out. Ergo.” She makes a flippant gesture with her hands. “Citrus.”

“Why is he so godsdamn cute,” Nico mutters to himself, then remembers to throw out a hasty, “Thank you,” before scrambling away from the table, ignoring the gathered snickers, and beelining for the the Demeter cabin. “Gods.”

It is empty, thankfully, when he strolls in, except for Miranda in the front gardens, who holds up a finger as he gets closer and whispers to a struggling seedling.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

“I need,” he starts. He purses his lips, rocking back on his heels. His hands make some kind of motion. He’s not sure what, exactly, he didn’t give them permission. “I need.”

Miranda, thankfully, has had years of experience communicating with non-speaking entities, and as such is relatively fluent in Nico. She dusts off her hands, patting the spot beside her. Nico sits as indicated.

“Try a deep breath first,” she instructs. “When your brain is back up and running, try again.”

“It’s running. It’s running a lot.”

“Oh. In that case, might I suggest a small shout of frustration?”

“You may.”

He clears his throat, resting his hands on his diaphragm to Maximize the Output, as he has been previously instructed, and yells. A passing satyr jumps a full five feet in the air and flees. Nico grimaces, calling apologies after them.

“They’re never going to like me,” he grumbles.

Miranda pats his head. “There, there. One issue at a time.”

“Solace,” he says at her invitation, gesturing again. “Oranges.”

“…Ah.”

“He is. You know. Right?”

“I must confess I do not.”

He takes a moment to collect himself. Or, well, he tries to. He’s had an easier time trying to wrangle errant souls surfing along the Styx, but whatever. He literally owns his brain. It Shall submit to him, or he’ll get a new one. Watch.

“Will is…intensely thoughtful.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Miranda agrees. “Once he brushed past me on the way to dinner and felt that I was going to get a cold, so he took the food I got and exchanged it for soup and veggies and Gatorade and stuff. He forgot to actually tell me that I was about to get a cold, at the time, but it was really nice of him in hindsight.”

Nico makes another loud, strangled bleating noise. Thankfully, no satyrs are harmed.

“He is so!”

“There, there,” Miranda says again. “You’ll get to full sentences soon, I’m sure of it.”

He takes a few moments to have a minor crisis in the peace and tranquility of Friendship. It’s this new thing he’s been trying. Will tells him it’s usually called ‘trust’ and ‘vulnerability’. It is mortifying for the most part but in small doses is kind of cool. Mostly.

“Who takes care of Will?“

“He doesn’t really get sick. Apollo genes and all that.”

“No, like. Emotionally.”

“Oh.” Miranda frowns thoughtfully. “Um. Chiron, maybe? I’m not actually sure.”

“It needs to be me,” Nico stresses. “He always takes care of me, and I want to, like, repay him. Not transactionally,”Nico rushes to clarify, “but, like, mutual care-ily.”

“I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” Miranda says sagely. “You must Show Him. That you are Invested in your Relationship.”

“Yes!” Nico cries, gripping her by the elbows. She meets his gaze head on, eyes wide and wizened. “Yes, exactly. Relationship Investment. You’re so smart.”

Miranda preens. “Thank you.” She stands, brushing off her jeans — fruitlessly, she’s got grass stains on top of grass stains on every piece of clothing she owns — and offering Nico a hand. Together they stand and observe the various shrubs, trees, and vines surrounding the cabin, hands on their hips.

Nico narrows his eyes. “Should I just get him oranges?”

“I still don’t fully understand the orange thing. But Will likes peaches.” She leans up and plucks one off of the largest tree, holding it out to Nico. “They make him think of home.”

Nico takes the peach and inspects it. It is, of course, impeccable — thick and heavy, skin soft and unblemished, full enough with juice and flavour to be fragrant even from the arm’s length Nico holds it. This is the kind of peach that wins fairs. This is the kind of peach that sits, prized, in a market, watching as mothers and hipsters claw at each other. This is the kind of peach that immediately upon first touch strikes within you such an intense urge to chuck it at the nearest hard surface and watch it splat into a beautiful explosion of Squelch that Nico has to, hastily, set it down and out of immediate reach.

“It’s perfect,” he declares.

“Don’t throw it at him,” Miranda advises, eyeing the fruit herself.

“Shan’t,” Nico promises, and it doubles at a warning to his brain because he can’t lie to Miranda, obviously, so his brain better Check Itself. There will be no peach throwing. Peach holding, only, and peach giving.

He waves goodbye to Miranda as he hustles off, headed for the bustling infirmary. There have been no great emergencies today — there would be a lot more of Will’s echoed screeching if this were the case — and many people who have walked in have walked out, minutes later, scowling, so now is a good a time as any. He could of course wait until Will is done his shift and they meet by Cabin Seven, like usual, but this is a Pressing Issue. Will can no longer continue to believe that Nico has a Limit, as Kayla had so unhelpfully explained. Nico is Limitless. He is a sine function. He is an eternal abyss. He is the final end of Chiron’s patience, if the horse is to be believed.

Also, the peach is really really tempting and Nico honestly does not have all that much control over his brain. It usually kind of does as it pleases. That’s why he has so many Situations.

“Solace,” he shouts, banging open the screen door loud enough to make everyone inside jump, “GET the hell over here.”

“I. Am.” Will holds up a patient’s arm, which has been hastily butterfly-clamped closed and is now being stitched. “Um. Is it urgent?”

Nico snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He stalks over to where Will is sitting, still bewildered, on his favourite stool, and stands with his arms crossed behind him. He nods at the injured camper, clearing his throat. “Proceed.”

“…Okay.”

Because Will is a Professional, his gaze remains focused on the gaping wound he is fixing. Because no one else at this camp is, everyone else chooses to gawk. Nico lets the fires of Hell enter his eyes, like Father showed him, and glares them all into subservience.

“Alright,” Will says, several minutes later, patting the patient’s knee with a smile. “I’m gonna wrap this, Jen, and you gotta keep it dry, okay? Have ambrosia twice a day like I told you and come see me at the end of the week.”

“There’ll be no scar?” the young girl hedges.

“Not if you follow my instructions,” Will promises. “Although you’ll be just as beautiful with a scar, kiddo, I promise. Ask your mother.”

Jen looks at him doubtfully, but Will is one of those people who’s unbelievably hard to distrust. It’s infuriating, if you’re Nico and committed to the whole goth/emo lifestyle. Probably comforting if you’re a normal person.

She leaves, and it is abruptly very quiet in the infirmary, which is crazy because it is abruptly never quiet at camp unless people are dead, usually, but no one is dead, and people are too godsdamn nosy to flinch away from Nico’s glare, or maybe they’re not scared of him anymore, and hey, isn’t that something. The world is so busy, all the time. Things keep happening. Who’s fault is that, again?

“Nico?” Will asks, rocking back on his heels. His hands are suddenly clean of blood and grime and his scrubs have been swapped out. They stand, also, at the other end of the infirmary, right outside of the on-call room. He looks up, and conversations have resumed, and Will is watching him, intently, bright eyes slightly too wide, front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Ace bandage winding, unwinding, winding.

“This is for you,” Nico blurts, and shoves the peach at him.

Will blinks. “Oh.” He stares at the peach, a moment, before a smile erupts on his face. “Oh! Thank you!”

He takes the peach, gently, from Nico’s hands, and holds it close to his chest, wide hands gentle so as not to bruise, smile gone close-mouthed, giddy. The rocking gets every so slightly faster, and the slight breeze from the open screen door ruffles his frizzy hair, and his nose is scrunched, just slightly, enough to wrinkle his dotted feathers, and Nico’s mouth is very, very dry.

“I do not,” he tries, and it grinds along his paper-parched throat, near silent, “I do not have Limits, William.”

The rocking stills. Nico mourns it.

“…Sorry?”

“Limits,” Nico repeats. “I do not have them. I am Limitless. Purge the thought.”

“You have limits,” Will says, alarmed. “Um, we had that talk, right? About pushing yourself and why that is generally regarded as a bad plan.”

“That was you shouting at me in between nectar shots and frantic mothering, actually, but that’s not what I meant.”

Will doesn’t answer, only tilting his head.

“You’re neurotic,” Nico attempts to explain, and as could be expected by literally anyone with a brain this goes poorly, and he rushes to amend. “I mean! Well, you are neurotic — but! There is a but! Stop looking at me like that! You are neurotic but!”

“This is a very bad friendship break up if that is what you are trying,” says Will in a small voice, and Nico resolves to kick his own ass later tonight to Atone.

“I like it,” he hurries to explain. “You and your — neuroses. All of you, I like it. There is no Limit. Capital L. You’re groovy. On — point. Fleek? What do the kids say. I don’t —”

“Oh,” Will breathes, thankfully putting Nico out of his misery, “oh, this is about the oranges.”

Nico nods miserably.

“The oranges are —” Will cuts himself off, staring down at his shoes. “Um, scurvy freaks me out.”

“…Scurvy?”

“It — collagen synthesis is an active process? In your body? And scurvy makes it degrade really quickly. Which kind of tears your body apart by reopening scars. On top of other things. And you — were on a ship, you know. For a while. And you sweat a lot. And you don’t take the multivitamins I give you.”

“Because they’re gross,” Nico says, breathless, “and I’m not — sweaty.”

Wherever sunlight touches Will’s skin he tends to glow, slightly, and his freckles fluoresce the longer his hand takes to traverse the space between them, past the open window, resting, lightly, on Nico’s wrist.

“You are,” he says, gently. “You have — really low magnesium and potassium levels. Just, all the time.” He glances down at the inside of Nico’s wrist. “Right now, actually. Will you eat a banana if I go get you one?”

Will will go get a banana, and Nico will follow him, and they will sit, somewhere, probably the big rock by the lake, as Nico eats it, and Will will eat his peach, and Nico will watch his throat bob, and Will will talk, hands gesturing, peach juice everywhere, and they will stay there, probably, way past sunset, right till curfew, and then they will sprint, as they usually do, to avoid the harpies, and they will go to Nico’s cabin, first, because they always do, and Will will snag an orange as they run past the fruit trees by the Demeter cabin, and he will press it into Nico’s hands, firmly, smiling as he says goodnight, and running back to his own cabin. Where he will, according to Kayla, pace, and worry. Where he will rant about Limits, and how close Nico is to approaching them.

“Will,” says Nico seriously, grabbing his hands. Will’s eyes snap to his, wide, wider than usual, and they are so blue, so so blue, are things usually this blue? He’s startled by it every time. “Will, I am a sine function.”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

Nico nods. “That’s okay! Just — peaches.” He reaches out and pats the fruit, curling Will’s fingers around them. “For you. Okay?”

Will glances down at the peach. He glances back up at Nico. He looks down, finally, at their hands, twined around the fruit, and holds there, one, two, three seconds.

“Oh,” he says, finally. “Oh, you don’t — oh.”

“Peaches,” Nico repeats, “oranges.” He pulls one hand free and draws a line between them. “You get it?”

“I get it,” Will says, softly. He looks up and smiles, small, private; too-big front teeth just barely peeling out. “You never reach your approached value.”

“I really don’t even get that close.”

“I’m kind of losing the metaphor, here.”

“Okay.”

Nico squeezes their hands together. Will squeezes back, shifting his weight.

“I’m still gonna — you still gotta get your vitamin C.”

“More oranges?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He rubs his finger over the backs of Will’s knuckles; he shivers. Nico meets his eyes and he smiles, widely, hurting his cheeks, and Will smiles back, and he rocks, and Nico is an abyss, and he is falling, falling, falling. “I like oranges.”

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brynnterpretations · 4 months ago

Text

THE BOYS’ TYPES ☻

Annie January

GIF Source: @kylos ★ (link)

Someone kind, gentle, sensitive, and a bit nerdy. She is a Certified Yapper Lover™, and loves to hear her partners talk about things they're interested in, so passion is key for her; bonus points if it's about something she hasn't really heard of before (Hughie really got her hooked with a discombobulated Star Wars rant). As we all know, Annie has an extremely firm sense of right and wrong, so a potential partner's values are a make-or-break scenario for Annie. Admittedly, she finds nervousness and rambling very cute, and it's the first thing that typically draws her to a person. She's a fan of that anxious, neurotic energy — sorry-not-sorry. Additionally, for men and women alike, if you have curly or otherwise textured hair? She wants you.

Billy Butcher

GIF Source: @amazingmaeve ★ (link)

Since Becca, Billy's type has fluctuated a lot. Before and during Becca, he deeply appreciated someone level-headed, calm, caring, and intelligent; however, after her death, it's been hard finding someone of that personality that didn't just remind him of her. For short-term relationships, Billy is very attracted to firecracker types, and for long-term, appreciates someone sensible and a little snarky, yet able to be sensitive in the right moments, even if he may push him away. A hard rule for Billy, though, is that the person is able to stand their own. He greatly values conviction, and even if that person may have differing opinions, them being able to stand up for their own beliefs is something extremely important to him in a relationship.

Frenchie

GIF Source: @vcugifs ★ (link)

Someone quiet, driven, loyal, and with a secret soft side. Got walls? Frenchie loves them and wants to break them down (lovingly, of course). Considering his past, he wants someone understanding and with a "history" of their own, too — he's naturally drawn to people who have that aura and "roughness", for lack of a better term, to them. Being bilingual, or multilingual, even if it's not French, is a big plus for him, too; as a communicative person and someone interested in linguistics in general, he becomes a lot more interested in someone if he hears them speaking or writing another language.

Hughie Campbell

GIF Source: @olympain ★ (link)

Someone strong, independent, and passionate. As a pretty nervous guy, Hughie greatly admires people who can "stand their own", and is drawn to them in relationships. That doesn't mean it's all take, though — Hughie really likes someone who, even if strong, he can comfort, care for, and support, so if you're in need of any of that? Hughie's your guy. He also is pretty attracted to anyone who stands his rambles and doesn't give him crap for them — and, better, is actively engaged — and will fall for you pretty quickly if you're that type. So, in another words: if you'll tell McDonald's they put mustard when he asked for no mustard, he'll fall for you.

Kimiko Miyashiro

GIF Source: @amazingmaeve ★ (link)

Someone understanding, empathetic, and optimistic. It's suffice to say that Kimiko has been through a lot, and, like Frenchie, wants someone who she can relate to and move forward to better futures with. People who have a positive attitude in spite of their hardships are people she's greatly attracted to. Being chatty and willing to communicate with her often is also something she loves; she has a lot on her mind and likes to share it with the people she loves and see their thoughts on it. Similarly to that, she loves expressive people — not just because it makes them easier to read, but she finds it really, really cute. A bit random, but if you have a loud laugh, too, she'll fall in love pretty quick.

Marvin T. Milk (M.M.)

GIF Source: @vergeltvng ★ (link)

Someone loyal, resilient, hardworking, and honest — to the point of bluntness. M.M. is a no-bullshit guy and not someone to appreciate a "cheerleader" figure, so he greatly appreciates someone he can always trust to tell the truth, even when it's not pretty. Realism and practicality is also important to him too. Like Annie, morals are also a make-or-break for M.M., and having someone who cares about integrity, family, and justice like him is the most important aspect in relationships to him. Additionally, someone who's A) good with kids and B) good with his past wife. While he wouldn't hold any feelings for Monique while in or pursuing a relationship, his former family is extremely important to him. His potential partner having the maturity to recognize this situation, as well as holding a love for children (even if they don't want any themself), is very important to him.

#the boys #the boys headcanons #annie january x reader #billy butcher x reader #frenchie x reader #hughie campbell x reader #kimiko miyashiro x reader #mother's milk x reader

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year ago

Text

Your Mark On Me, Part 6

Summary: you become his

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, fingering, squirting, cockwarming, humiliation, edging, dry humping, pinching, mirrors, teasing, slapping, multiple orgasms, gun kink, squirting, tears, begging, choking, spanking, D/s dynamics, pain kink, forced marking, tattoos, fight, Steve Rogers, me (sorry guys. No I’m not), 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.5K

Series Masterlist

*Tattoo edit created by @randomagnes0210

*Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Mmm,” Bucky moans from in between his now fiancé’s thighs. Her eyes roam around the bedroom before looking over to his phone on the nightstand. She is unable to fully enjoy Bucky feasting on her honey because she’s too in her head.

Bucky pops his head up, watching his sweet neurotic love of his life be anywhere, but present. Playfully he rolls his eyes before crawling up her body, and leans down to pepper kisses on her mouth, “Shy, what’s the matter, darling?”

“I want to talk to Steve,” Bucky leans back, letting his eyes narrow while he tries to read her facial expressions.

“Why?” Finally her vision settles on his handsome face, but she shrugs. “No. Until you tell me why, I won’t be giving you his number. Why do you want to speak to him?”

“I want him to let you come back home,” sighing, Bucky flips over on the bed, pulling her onto his chest. His hands brush up and down her back while he presses his lips against her forehead. “It’s not fair that you are going without sleep watching that girl. Alpine misses you.”

“Alpine does, huh? You’re bringing our daughter into this?” Bucky knows that when you blame Alpine for things like this, it’s also what you feel deep down as well.

“What happens if we have a human daughter? You’re still going to blindly listen to what Steve says?” Bucky starts to speak, but she covers his mouth with her hand. “I’m just saying the job you’re doing is what someone else should be doing. You are the second in command and he’s got you doing stupid shit.”

“Okay,” he whispers, kissing over her face, “But you have to be prepared for Steve not to listen,” she gives him a pitiful little pout, and all he wants to do is bite her kiss swollen lips. He had been starving for her, and didn’t stop kissing her, except when she was asleep. Her lips are still bruised. “Shy, the reason he wants me to watch her is because he trusts me.”

“And he knows you won’t fuck her,” Bucky rolls his eyes, and she gives him a playful smack on his chest. “I’m serious. I know you’ve seen him fucking. It’s his weird kink. He doesn’t want you to touch, but he gets off on the humiliation of showing them off in front of his men, mostly you.”

“I’ve seen fuck many times. I’m immune to his fuckery. Fine. Call him.”

“You are changing the subject. You’ve seen her pussy, haven’t you?” There is no point in arguing with her, so Bucky just nods his head. “Whose is prettier?” She asks, smirking and reaching for his phone. Sitting up, she straddles his body, giving a little grind on his stomach. “Tell me.”

“The cunt that is slippery on my stomach is the prettiest puss I have ever seen. No puss feels better than yours when you got me in that gorilla grip, and nothing is sweeter. Shy, darling, you know that the only cunt for me is…stop that,” he slaps her ass when she starts rolling her hips on him. “I was making my declaration of love to that pretty pussy, and you’re trying to get me hard. Call Steve. Tell him what you need.”

“Not while you’re here,” she giggles. Bucky moves his arms quickly, and pinches both of her nipples at the same time, “Bubba…”

“I want you to call Steve right now. Use your strong voice that you use with me sometimes,” she takes a deep breath, pulling herself out from a lustful state, and giggles. Attempting to push Bucky’s hands off her. “No, I want to play with these,” he coos, rolling his fingers.

“Then stop pinching. It kinda hurts.”

“Then why are you getting wetter? Did you forget, I feel you?” Her hands soothingly rub up and down Bucky’s arms, loving the feel of his flesh and metal. His hands flatten out, and he cups each breast in his hand, “Better?”

“Give me your phone, Bubba,” Bucky cocks up an eyebrow, and she knows he’s not dropping his hands. Instead she reaches over to grab his phone. Unlocking immediately when her face comes into view to unlock the phone, she takes a deep breath.

“Shy, you’ve got this,” Shy had grown so much since the first time he met her. She still kept to herself, and still didn’t like confrontation, but anything for Bucky.

“I know. Be quiet, you. I’m going to put this on speaker, so shush,” she waits patiently as the phone rings. Using her free hand to cover Bucky’s eyes. Lost in a sweet moment when she flinches.

“What do you want now? I gave you your time off, enjoy your shy pussy,” his voice is so much harsher than Bucky. Annoyed the moment he answers.

“Uhh…Steve?”

“Is this the illusive girlfriend?”

“Fiancé,” she informs him. It did just happen, but she needs Steve to realize that Bucky was serious about their relationship.

“Fucking hell. He finally fucking did it. He told me he was going to put a rock on you. So he’s good to come back, and take care of business? You got your ring, and he’s got his pussy locked down,” Bucky’s hands tense on her chest, and she gulps, trying to figure out what to say.

“No…I — uhh…I don’t want Bucky to be gone for days at a time. He should be allowed to come home every night, and…”

“Are you trying to tell me how to fucking command…”

“He’s not yours to command!” Her chest heaves as she blinks away her angry tears. The hand covering Bucky’s eyes runs down his face to cup his cheek, and she uses her thumb to brush over his lips.

“Steve, you’re using his loyalty against him. Bucky has a home, and…maybe he could watch her during the day, and — a-a-and then she goes home with you,” Steve’s end of the phone goes silent, and Shy bites at her lip. Her thumb is still caressing Bucky’s mouth before she slowly slips it past his pout. He gives the appendage a little nibble, smiling up at her. Bucky is so proud at how she’s handling the situation, even though he wants to throw Steve across the room.

“That’s not a bad idea. I will need her to be with me soon anyways. I won’t be able to keep my hands off her once my cock has finally…”

“Steve, I don’t need to hear how you’re going to take your girlfriend’s virginity. I just need my fiancé to come home every night. It’s what I need more than anything. You know I need him, and…and he needs me, too. We’re kinda co-dependent.”

“Huh,” he sits silent. Kicking his feet up on his desk, while his hands run through his beard. “I just need my little bird to be dependent on me.”

“Oh…well okay. I hope she is then. Uh…bye?” She receives her answer with a prompt ending of the call, and she looks up at Bucky. “You’re coming home tonight.”

“Yep, and since I’m coming home, I’ll only take a shower with you. We don’t have time for sex.”

“There’s always time for sex, Bubba.”

“Nope. But when I come home, my sweet little Shy Violet, I’m going to make sweet love with you, and I’m going to put a baby right here in this belly,” his finger pokes her belly, and he holds on tight to her. Lifting both of them off the bed. “For now, we shower. Tonight, I stuff you full!”

You walk down the steps of your school, pausing as everyone else pushes around you. It was the weekend, and they were ready to get it started. You stand there staring at Steve smirking from the backseat of the SUV. His hand rubs up and down his thigh while he waits on you.

When you make no attempt to walk towards him, he lifts his hand, curling his finger to wiggle at you. Somehow, like a good girl you respond. Once you get close enough, he opens the door. Instead of scooting over, he holds out a hand to you. “Wouldn’t it be easier for me to walk around the car and get in my own seat?”

“No,” he smiles, still holding his hand out to you. “You’ve got a new seat right here in my lap. Let’s go.”

You take a moment to look around campus, making sure no one is watching you before you crawl in. His hand immediately runs up your thigh, and pushes apart your legs. Flattening his hand, he palms your covered core. Biting on your lip, you refuse to let out any sounds.

“Those sounds belong to me, too,” you shake your head no. Still in this weird tug-o-war game with him. He enjoyed your spitfire ways, even if they annoyed him. “Yeah, they do, little bird. This slick that you have gathering in this cunt belongs to me just as much as those whimpers.”

“What — what are we doing? Going?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he smiles, pushing aside your panties. He stuffs three fingers into you, and you try to raise off his lap, but he pushes you back down. Squirming around, you try to take a deep breath, attempting to adjust to his fingers, “Stop that. I’m not going to finger you. I just want to feel your walls flutter around me, while you keep them warm. They’re cold,” he would be the one to find an excuse to have himself inside of you.

“Where are we going,” you whisper, still refusing to give him any form of enjoyment.

“Bucky doesn’t want to watch you sleep anymore, so you’re going to my place.”

“The cabin?” His fingers curl into you, and he holds them right over your g spot, and you become annoyed with the lack of friction.

“No. My place. Some nights I sleep upstairs in the club, but I don’t want them to hear you,” you gulp while you look at him. Lip starting to tremble. He had plans to make sounds scream out of you, “Are you ready to beg?”

“No,” you answer with as much sincerity as you possibly can. Gritting his teeth, his fingers start fucking into you. Still curled, and still pounding over a spot that has stars that light up your vision. “Steve, I said no! Oh god!”

It isn’t only squelching sounds, it is a waterfall as your cunt gushes out onto his lap. Legs starting to tremble with your release. You aren’t sure how he can make things happen so fast, but he always finds a way.

“Steve! Ahh,” both hands grab onto his arm, attempting to shove him out of you but he just goes harder. Laughing when your pussy releases more arousal. “Steve! Steve! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!”

A gagging noise releases from your throat when his drenched hand circles around your throat. “Steve, please…please, I didn’t mean to. You were in me!”

“You know very well what I fucking meant when I said I needed to be inside of you when you want to open that filthy fucking month. Get on the goddamn floor,” your eyes look up to the front, and Sam rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at him. Get in the fucking floor, Dovey!”

You scramble into the floor, and he rips open your shirt, pulling each tit above your bra. Pinching on both nipples, he pulls you towards him. “Take out my cock, and just hold it in your mouth.”

“What?” If you weren’t wet before, you are sopping wet now. Could feel your slick sticking to your thighs as you twitch around. His grip on your nipples is rough, and you want to yelp, but it would only make things worse.

“Did I stutter? Take out my fat cock, and just hold it in your mouth. If you suck on it, I will conduct a meeting with your legs spread wide, and my dick resting in your ass. That way everyone gets to see your virgin cunt clench around nothing at all. Do you understand?” It takes you too long to respond to him.

His fingers grip your sensitive buds harder, pulling your face right over the hardening bulge in his pants, “Do you fucking understand, Dove?”

“Yes, sir. Yes, I understand,” tears cloud your vision as you unzip his pants. Whimpering when your fingers come into contact with his heated and heavy cock.

“Do not suck, Dovey,” he gives your nose a tap with his finger, letting you open your mouth wide, and you take as much of him as you can. Kneeling on the floor, and waiting to get to your destination.

“Steve, you don’t think you’re being too mean to her?” Sam looks in the mirror with concern. Everyone worried about your wellbeing more than Steve.

“No,” he chuckles. Adjusting his position, and pushing himself deeper into your. “Make sure you breathe through your nose, little bird. Sam, you know as well as I do I could be a hell of a lot meaner. How do you like keeping my cock warm, Dovey?” You glare up at him, and he gives a quick swat to your cheek.

You didn’t mind giving him head but this just sitting here with his throbbing cock in your mouth is torture. “If you’re gonna look up at him with your mouth so pretty and stuffed so full your cheeks hurt, at least look like you’re enjoying it.”

“You’ve got her stuffed in the floor of the car, and drooling in your lap, not to mention, you made sure her cunt made a fucking mess in my car — again.”

“That is my cunt, and it was beautiful. I love that she’s extra sloppy. Could you imagine pumping up that pussy until it’s good and swollen, and then pounding the shit out of her? My god, she would just be a soaking fucking mess. We’ll try that one day, Dovey.”

Humiliating. And still your leak arousal. This shouldn’t turn you on being treated like an object for his pleasure, but it did. “Maybe you should take her out on a date,” Sam’s deep brown eyes look into the back, and Steve is actually smiling down at you. “She might beg.”

The moan you release has Steve’s head tilting back. He tries not to fully let go, but that felt fantastic. “Is that what you want, little bird? You want a date? Moan twice for yes,” such an asshole. He could have said once, but no. He wants to make sure he gets as much pleasure from this as possible.

Still glaring up at him, you moan. Wiggling a bit, trying to make yourself comfortable before moaning again. “Well, we’re laying low right now,” your moan is more of a growl. Dribble drifts down onto his lap, and you give him a little pout. Both arms wrap around his leg, and you cling to him. He seems to like you needy. And what you need is relief, or for him to taste you.

“We’re not fucking going out, and that’s final. Sam, make sure that Loki is at the house before you leave,” who the fuck was that? Loki? And why is Steve asking if you want a date, and then refusing? Prick.

“Suck!” His hands plant themselves on the back of your head, and he forces you to take every bit of him. Crying from lack of oxygen, and gagging with his cock shoved down your throat. You couldn’t suck if you wanted to. Steve just wants to push your limits.

Your nose presses up against his skin, and the feeling of your drool and tears just makes him hold you more. “Yeah, Dovey, that’s a good fucking girl. Can take every bit of my cook.”

“Steve.”

“Mmm, my god, that cunt is going to feel amazing,” your vision starts to blur, and you try to push yourself off him, but he clings tighter.

“Steve.”

“You can take every bit of me, sweet little bird. I’ll reward you later,” terrified, you smack at the seats. If screaming was an option, you’d be doing that. Clawing at his legs, slapping him, just anything to get his attention.

“Steve!” Sam slams on the breaks, and turns around to glare at him. “She can’t fucking breathe!”

His heavy load spurts down your throat, before he lets you go, and you gasp for air through his sticky cream. Your lungs burn almost as much as your throat, and you look up at him terrified. “I wasn’t gonna kill you, sweet Dove. You won’t die a virgin. I want you on your knees, so I can stare at your cunt.”

“Why?” You tremble, wiping off the mess on your face. Smeared saliva and cum spreads around your soft skin, and Steve wants nothing more than to paint your entire face with his seed.

“Because, I need to see how wet you are,” your head only shakes back and forth once, but it’s enough to annoy him. “Get on your damn knees before I shove my fist in your cunt.”

Without readjusting your clothes, you get onto the seat on all fours. Laying your head down as Steve lifts up your skirt. “You're such a slut for me, Dovey. Your legs are just as soaked as your pussy. What is it that you want?”

“I want you,” you whisper. Biting on your thumb nail when you look at him.

“Why? I am your worst nightmare, am I not?”

“Uh huh. But…” your look towards Sam; he has his eyes back on the road. Ignoring everything that is going on just inches behind him. “I like being scared.”

“And that’s why you piss me off?” He spreads slick to your puckered hole before spitting down to your hole that has never seen any action. “You piss me off because you enjoy being scared?”

“What are you doing?” He is just staring at your muscled hole. He is ready to devour you. Sink into your truly virginal hole, and feel you clench around him in a different way.

“Making sure you’re scared. Answer my question,” his thumb slips into your soaked channel before his finger teases around your asshole. “Am I scaring you, Dovey?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know I will own all your holes right?” You squeak when his finger breaks the barrier of your tight channel. Pushing yourself even more into him as his thumb and finger fuck into two holes. “I will own you. I will destroy you, and I’m getting fucking tired of your games. Do you piss me off because you get off on the fear of what I’m going to do to you?”

“Yes. Yes, sir,” you sob. Your body starts to rock into him while he just sits there. Smirking at how much you are enjoying both holes being played with. Taking his entire fingers and desiring more.

“You like this? You want a second finger in your ass?”

“Uhh,” you hesitate, but Steve didn’t care. A second finger breaches your walls, and you scream out his name. There is a feeling of fullness that makes you want more. You have no doubt that Steve is going to push you to your limits, but you wanted him to. Wanted someone to make the decisions for you for a change.

“You close, baby. You right there? I feel your pussy fluttering around me.”

“Yes! Yes!” It feels so good that it is blinding. Euphoria starts to quickly drift through your body, and you know that your peak is just on the precipice. Breathing unsteady, and desperate for more of Steve.

“Good,” he growls, removing his fingers, denying you that sweet release. “We’re here.”

“Uhh!” You slap on the seat of the car, and Steve smacks your ass. “I didn’t get to come.”

“Oh, I know. Go ahead, and run inside. Wash your face off. Get in the shower. I’ve got a pretty little present for you to slip on. Quit your fucking pouting. You already came once. You don’t need another.”

“Yes, I do!” Another swat to your ass, and you sit up, glaring at him. Steve could be unusually cruel at times. But refusing you to come is the worst.

“Once was plenty. You need to learn to not be so fucking greedy. Now, go wash up. Your face is a fucking wreck. And when you look in the mirror, you just remember that I was the one that made you that way. Get out of the fucking car. I’ll see you inside in a minute,” you puff out irritated, and crawl out of the car. Like the cabin, it didn’t have neighbors. But this time you aren’t scared. You’re pissed.

If Steve wanted you to beg, you wouldn’t. Not now. Now you want him to suffer. You want him to want you just as much as you wanted him. It was beyond desperation. It is an obsession of needing him inside of you.

“Steve, this is a bad idea,” Sam warns his friend as Steve starts to get out. Sam knew how Steve was. But this is very different. He was even scaring him, and Sam isn’t sure what Steve’s endgame is. Was this his way of showing any true feelings?

“It’s perfect. If she wants to belong to me, it’s time for her to prove it,” there was no changing of Steve’s mind. Tonight would be the night, and he’ll deal with the consequences of his actions later.

“And this could be something that makes her retreat into herself. You’re doing too much.”

“Go home to your wife and kids, Sam. Dove will be fine. She’ll love it. And everyone will know exactly who she belongs to. They will know whose cock stretches her open every fucking day. It will happen. And no one can stop it.”

Sam looks at Steve through the rear view mirror. Nothing could change his mind when he was like this. He just hoped that Steve wouldn’t later regret it. “Does Bucky know?”

“Bucky wants to go home to his fiancé every night. What I do isn’t Bucky’s business unless he’s here. He’s not here to stop me. Dove is mine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a girl to ruin,” you are his, and no one could stop him. It was what had to be done. And it will be done.

You look at yourself in the mirror, trying to cover yourself up. He had to be joking. Steve is a menace, and he proved it daily, and this isn’t any difference. You can hear the tv on, and even smell food being cooked, but you didn’t want to walk out of this bedroom. Steve did remove your reason to think. He did decide everything for you. Down to this ridiculous outfit. But sometimes you did want to, and this is one of those times. Especially since you knew he was going to be fully covered.

“Dovey!” He shouts from another part of the house, and you open the bedroom door, wrapping your arms around your chest. “Dinner is ready, come on.”

“What is this?” Walking out into the house, you realize that you are alone with Steve. No guards. Just you and him. “What do you have me wearing?” He turns to look at you. His hungry eyes looking you up and down as he walks closer. Spreading your arms out wide, he spins you around. “Steve.”

“Oh, stop whining. You think I haven’t seen your tits before,” just to drive home his point his hand smooths over the sheer lace that makes up your top. Making your nipples pebble up with stimulation. You are ‘covered’ but only in material. The lace reveals every bit of your top. The shorts at least are solid around your core.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers behind your ear, and your arms relax, leaning more into him, his musky scent wafts up to your nose, and your body sets on fire. Becoming more comfortable with his tiny little praise. “And I like looking at what is mine,” ruined. “Don’t cover yourself up. Let’s eat.”

“Did you cook?” It seems like a silly question when you realize that there is no one else here. It’s obvious that he cooked. And even cleaned the kitchen up along the way. The table is even set, but it’s for one. His house is impeccably clean, and it’s something you should have expected with how particular he is.

“Yeah, surprise, I don’t just sell drugs. My tongue also can do more than lick your cunt,” giving you a wink, he grabs your hand, pulling you towards the table.

“Where are you sitting?”

“At the table, in a chair,” he looks at you with confusion painting his eyes.

“What about me?”

A devilish smirk spreads across his face as he leads you into the dining area. Sitting in his chair before rubbing his hand on his thigh. “I’m a seat now, Dovey. Come on, darling, let's get you fed, and we’ll watch a movie before bed.”

“We’re just…just going to sleep? And I’m wearing this?” Why would he have you on display like this just to eat and get in the bed? He wanted to make sure you gave him very little to his imagination. He could see everything. Keeping it cold in here, so your nipples are hard and poking through your top.

“Well, what did you have in mind?” Steve guides you to sit in his lap, and he picks up a forkful of food, holding it up for you to take a bite. “If you want something, little bird, you have to ask.”

“I thought — why am I wearing this?”

“I like the view,” he’s being a bit too coy, and definitely too innocent at this moment. There is more to his game, and you couldn’t figure it out. Except for that question, are you ready to beg.

“What if I want,” biting at your lip, you turn to look at him. Running your hand up his chest before giving him a sweet peck on his lips. “What if I want you?”

“You have me. Here I am,” he’s annoying, and knows exactly what you mean, but still he teases. “And you need to eat, and drink plenty of water.”

“I’m ready to beg.”

“And yet, still you’re not. Eat, Dovey. This isn’t a discussion. It’s what you will do, and then you’re going to let your stomach settle, while you continue to hydrate, and then maybe I’ll see if you’ll actually beg. And you don’t have to say you’re ready to beg. There’s other ways to ask that you want my fat cock in your sweet little pussy,” he takes a bite of food himself, grinning as he watches you try and figure out what to say.

“But you won’t let me say the F word.”

“Mmm, making love? Having sex? Taking your virginity? Not everything has to be filthy fucking. One day you’ll understand,” like Steve would ever do anything but fuck you like a filthy whore. “Eat,” he gives you a smile, and his hand that’s behind you, slowly caresses your back.

You shudder at how soft and tender it is. Gulping as you take another bite from his fork. He could be tender. Loving almost. Slick floods to your core with every soft touch that Steve gives you. Tonight would be the night that you beg and give yourself completely to Steve Rogers.

If this man can show this amount of softness, while still telling you what to do, he could have you. Every part of you. You would let him destroy and own you.

Steve looks down at you, snuggling up to his chest, and your hand rubs along the lowest part of his stomach. It feels somewhat normal, although foreign. As much as he tried to break you, there is still this soft innocence to you. You reveled in his debauchery, and still craved this sickeningly sweet moment of watching a movie, and touching him. Cuddling up against him.

You are so relaxed, a leg was thrown over his lap. You laugh at the appropriate times. And fuck, when you look up at him seeing if he was paying attention, it drove him mad. It isn’t sexual, but it’s intimate. It’s something Steve has never felt. Never had in possession, and you are giving it to him freely.

Sure, he’s fucked more women than he can count, but they were all disposable. They never got past the sex before he was shoving them out of his bed. You were showing him who he was before, and what he craved the most. Refusing for far too long to try and get it because it made him soft.

He stiffens underneath you, realizing that you were making him soft. He didn’t mind keeping you with him, but this wasn’t sexual. This seems normal. Healthy. And since when was Steve healthy or normal? When did he allow himself to have this? It was when he realized he didn’t want you hurt.

Working for your innocence made him want you that much more. You wanted it, and feared it. You need him and hate him. You want to learn more, but not too fast. You trusted him, and still had that tiny sliver of hesitance.

You wiggle in closer to him, and he glances down, to see he’s petting you. His hand literally moves up and down your back in comfort. Keeping you warm, and you are wanting more. This isn’t who he is. He isn’t the boyfriend. He’s the owner. And yet you are controlling him just by being you. He didn’t hate it. But he fears it. Fears your power over him.

“Dovey?”

“Mmm?” You sit up excitedly. Your eyes are half lidded, and he can see the desire and lust in the deep pools of your pupils. No wonder your hand slipped under his pants earlier. You have the sweetest way of initiating sex.

“What is it Steve?” Curiosity and nervousness laces your voice. “Steve? Sir?” Little minx, trying to entice him even more with that pet name. Trying to switch into subspace. If you wanted him, you had to prove it. He cracks his neck, ready to get the long night started.

“I want to try something with you, okay?”

“Okay,” he pulls you onto his lap fully. Your legs straddle him, and he forces you to grind on him. Backwards and forwards, moaning with the feel of his throbbing bulge under you. “Stevie?” He growls, gripping tighter to your ass. Giving your jaw a little nip. “I don’t like calling you sir.”

“Stevie is not very threatening.”

“So it’s just for me to fear you?”

“Do you not?” He tilts his head to the side, searching your eyes. His grip loosening, and your body is fully grinding on top of him. You have settled your core closer to him, and he feels every bit of your warmth. Cursing himself for not just making you walk around naked. “Dovey, do I scare you?”

“Sometimes,” you answer in earnest. “I don’t know what parts of you scare me anymore.”

“Explain, and don’t stop doing what you’re doing,” there is something different about Steve right now. You aren’t sure if he’s playing a game, or if he’s being sincere. Maybe while his cock is being stimulated, you get to see the real him.

“I’m scared of you hurting me.”

“Physically or…?”

“Physically, I enjoy it,” you shouldn’t. It’s wrong, but you can’t help how the terror he gives you turns you on. Makes you crave him more. “You’re gonna leave me once I give you that part of me.”

“No. I told you, Dovey, I want to own you. Knowing that I am the only man that has ever corrupted you.”

“But that’s just my pussy. What about my heart?”

This is not where he wanted this conversation to go. He didn’t want to think about your emotions right now. He couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “You’re…what we have isn’t love, little bird.”

“But…it could be?” Steve responds with a shrug. Things are getting too deep. It was nearly time, and he couldn’t have things go in this order. “I guess that’s good enough.”

“I promise no harm will come to you. And I can promise that I will satisfy you in ways you’ve only ever dreamed of, but if you need me to be your Prince Charming, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m no knight in shining armor. I’m a drug lord with a short temper.”

“But you want me?”

“No, darling,” he settles back into the couch, his hands go up your shirt, and he fondles your breasts. Deep laboring breaths while he stares up at you, “I need you. Not having you isn’t an option. Call me, Captain.”

“Captain,” you whimper, circling your hips so hard over him. He moans. Squeaking out your name, and heat bursts onto your core. “Steve?”

“Don’t stop calling me Captain, until I’m finished with you. Yes, your filthy little show made me come in my pants. I won’t be fucking you right now,” your lip trembles as he stands up. Holding onto you when he walks you into an almost empty room. A massage table set up with some form of contraption you didn’t recognize, and in the middle of the floor lays a long mirror.

He stands you up on the floor, and tugs at your shorts. Holding your hand for you to step out of them before removing your shirt. “Down on your knees, and straddle the mirror,” you stare at him for a moment, but when he snaps his fingers you do as he says.

“I need you to understand your body, Dovey. I’m going to have some fun with your cunt, and you’re going to watch it. Stop whining. You see that tight little hole in between your legs has got me in a chokehold. I can’t think properly when I’m around you, and you’re not begging,” he gets down to his knees, and his hand goes in between your legs. Spreading out your lips so you can see the innocence that he wants to own.

“Don’t take your eyes off your cunt, okay?”

“It’s yours, Captain,” Steve moans as his hand flows down to your entrance, smiling at your reflection before he pushes in three fingers. You may sniffle, but you keep looking. Watching the way he stretches you out. How simple motions make your arousal drip down onto your reflection.

“You were made for me, Dovey,” he moans, his motions going faster. “You’re so reactive for me. You want me?”

“I need you,” you mewl, and he drives in harder. Deeper. Curling his fingers to hit that magical spot. Pressure tightens up in your core, and you can’t hold on any longer. Your pussy gushes out below you. “I need you, Captain! Captain!” No amount of screaming was making him fuck you. Only his hand. Forever his hand.

“I need more!” Steve pounds harder, and your body heats up. Sweat beads around your face, and you start dipping lower. Legs going weak. “I need more, Captain!”

Reaching into his pocket, you start crawling away. “No! Steve, don’t!”

“Shh, Dovey, you wanted more,” Steve hums, holding tight to your leg. Pulling out his gun, he runs the cold metal around your backside. “Stay very still.”

“Is it loaded?”

“Do you think I’d have an unloaded gun in my pocket?” You hold yourself still as he drags the piece through your folds. “Tonight, you’re going to prove just how fucking loyal you are to me,” you would prove it. You would make him proud. “And if you didn’t like it why are you so wet?” He grunts, the tip rubbing your clit. He pulls the pistol away from you, and your sticky honey creates strings of slick to the tool.

Slowly he eases the gun back to your center, pulling it back to your entrance. “Count to three.”

“One,” Steve bites his lip, watching your reflection. You are terrified, and still submitting to his sick fantasy. Willing to do whatever he wanted to prove you are worthy to be his girl.

“Two,” without warning he pushes the gun inside you, and you let out the most surreal moan. Your velvety walls stretch around the piece, and you cry out at the intrusion. “Aww, look at you. You can see where it is inside of you. You see it?”

You couldn’t miss the bulging line up your belly. Why did this feel good? Why did you want him to go harder? “I’m gonna be deeper,” his hand traces the bulge, going up further before pressing up against your belly, “I’m gonna be right here. Rearranging your fucking insides.”

“Captain! I need you! I’m begging! Please, please! I wanna feel you!” Steve fully settles himself behind you. Keeping a hand on his gun, but positions his crotch right at the handle. “Captain!”

“Fuck yourself. Pretend it’s me. How are you going to handle me, Dovey?” You start rocking yourself back onto him. Taking the gun even deeper, “Keep watching. Don’t stop.”

Pushing yourself back into him, you can almost envision that you are taking him. Having him. All of him. But he’s going to be deeper. Settled so deep into you that you feel pressure in your belly. “Good fucking girl. There ya go. You like that? You like fucking my gun?”

“Yeah. Yes,” you start panting out. “I need you.”

“You have me.”

“All of you. All!” You push back harder, smiling when you spill even more onto the mirror. Each movement makes Steve more feral and needy for you. “All of!” It shouldn’t feel this good. You had taken all of his gun, but it still wasn’t deep enough. Even though your toes are curling, and you feel the ultimate high of release, you wanted him.

“All of you! Captain! Captain!”

“Fuck yeah,” he moans, watching your cream coat his gun. “Tell me, you’ll do anything for me.”

“Anything, I just want you!” Dropping his gun on the mirror, he stands up. Picking you up off the floor, he walks over to the bed. You had hoped you’d be in Steve’s giant bed for the first time, but maybe he didn’t want the mess.

Laying you down, he crawls over your body. Locking your arms down by your side with his thighs. Straddling you in a way to trap you. “Dovey, this is going to hurt.”

“What are you doing?” His hand turns your head to the side, and he kisses a spot between your neck and collarbone. His tongue paints circles over the sensitive area, and you allow him to hold you even tighter.

“If you hold still, it’ll go faster. Loki! She’s ready.”

“Steve?” A tall man walks into the room, and flips on the machine. Sitting on a stool, he scoots closer. “Steve!”

“You got her? The tattoo will be raised if I go too deep,” what? Tattoo? Steve holds tighter to your head, cooing down at you. “Well, ain’t that sweet? Buttering her up before you make her wear your mark permanently.”

“Don’t! Please, Steve, don’t!” Even though you kick your legs, your upper body doesn’t move. Not with Steve’s weight keeping you in place. Tiring yourself out, but you didn’t know what else to do, but to fight. “Please!”

“You said anything, Dovey. Go on. I’ve got her. It’s happening whether you like it or not. Hold fucking still, Dovey. Prove you’re mine, and I will give you the fucking world. Loki!” The hum of the tattoo gun starts, and you scream out when the needle pierces your skin. Marking you up for all to see. Claiming you as Steve’s once and for all. You didn’t mean this. He was going to get to walk away, but you were forever going to be seen as his property.

Screaming, crying, grunting. Nothing could have ever prepared you for this pain, and the physical pain didn’t feel as bad as the deep betrayal you feel. The fear is no longer sexy like before. It is you completely giving yourself up to him. Like you were never going to see another light of day without his permission.

Your screams turn into sobs of agony as Loki shades in your tattoo. You didn’t ask for this. Didn’t ask for him. He forced his way into your life, and all you wanted was to stay awake to study. “You’re almost finished, darling.”

You didn’t care. No soothing words could ever make up for this. “There, there,” he sighs, watching Loki clean you up, and cover the tattoo. He leans down to kiss up your tear stained cheeks.

“Let me go,” you say calmly. “I don’t want to look at you.”

“Dovey, this is what you agreed to.”

“You didn’t give me a choice! Ever. I can’t look at you, Steve. Let me go. Let. Me. Go. Let me go! Let me go!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, but you start flailing around. “You belong to me. Go in the bedroom, and pitch your fit. You’ll understand once the adrenaline has worn off.”

“I am naked, and tired, and I’m in pain! And you think I’m pitching a fit? Let me go, please!” All it takes is that word, and Steve crawls off you. Standing in front of Loki while you dash to the bedroom. Slamming the door shut, and locking it. You spot his phone, and run to it. He would have his number. And he would pay.

Bucky bursts through the door of Steve’s house, and marches right to Steve who is sitting in a sofa chair, watching your door. Lifting him up by the collar, he throws him up against a wall, and Steve chuckles. “You fucking marked her?”

“She’s mine. Now everyone knows.”

“You put a permanent mark on her skin, and you fucked her with a gun? What the hell is wrong with you Steve? That girl is willing to give everything to you, no questions asked, and…”

“She did! She told me anything, so it was my right to show her and everyone else who she fucking belongs to. She is mine, and I can do whatever the hell I please with her. Look at it,” he flicks his head towards a table, but Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off him.

“Her cum is dried on my gun. She came on my gun. She loved it, and watched every disgusting second of it.”

“You used her in a vulnerable state! You…”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do with her. She is mine!” Steve doesn’t have to try and fight back. He lets Bucky think he has this moment. For now.

“Yeah? And where is she, Steven?” Bucky flattens his forewarn against Steve’s neck, laughing. “You have her, and she’s so terrified of you that she locked you out. Used your phone to call me. You sick fucking bastard! She was right there, willing to give you everything. She lets you use her and lets others watch you do it. But this is too fucking far. I can’t…”

“Then quit,” Bucky’s weight shifts slightly, and Steve pushes him off. “No one wants you here. All you care about is your basket case,” Steve’s head slings to the side, and he rubs his cheek where Bucky backhanded him. The metallic taste of his blood fills his mouth, and he grits his teeth as he turns back to look at Bucky.

“Don’t talk about my fiancé like that!”

“I no longer want you watching Dove. I’ll have Loki assigned to her, or she’ll be with me. Your services are no longer needed. Whatever is left at the club belongs to me. You wanted your life with your neurotic freak show, have at it. Don’t come near me or mine ever again.”

“You’re gonna regret this, Steve. You just remember who was loyal to you. And you know what? Fuck you,” spinning on his heels, Bucky stomps back outside, flipping Steve’s house off for good measure before he goes home. Where he belongs.

Steve wipes at his mouth before turning towards the door, giving your current room a knock, “Dovey?”

“Go away, Steve.”

“You can’t stay mad at me forever. You eventually have to eat.”

“I’d rather starve than to see you again,” you hug your legs up against your chest, letting your tears paint the pillows with smeared mascara. It was the first time Steve would ever put this amount of fear on you. He would never get the chance ever again.

“Fine. Die a fucking virgin. You’ll come out though. And I’ll be waiting.”

You didn’t care. He could wait forever. Let his empire crumble. You would never look at Steve Rogers ever again. You’d never forgive him. Never ever.

Masterlist

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