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evansbby · 6 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader

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

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

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

“The girl’s ready, Captain.”

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

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

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

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

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

That left Steve. But Steve had this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on the bed.”

“H-Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take it out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stroke it.” He instructs you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me.”

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

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

“You’ve never fingered yourself?”

“No!”

“Tell me why not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-No, Captain.”

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve passed out.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-It hurts!”

“Address me properly.”

“C-Captain, it hurts!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now you can scream.”

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I deserve this, he thinks to himself.

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

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

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

“Answer me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-What?”

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

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

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

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

“Use your words.”

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

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

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

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

Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”

“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer me, baby girl.”

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

“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-What–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-No, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His beautiful, broken little bride.

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

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

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

He deserved this.

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

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

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 5 months

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Comfort in a House in the Mountains

Summary - Part 52 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: I’m so sorry guys, another shorter one this week. I haven’t been well and so have struggled to focus on writing. I hope you enjoy it anyway. And thanks again for your continued support (likes, reblogs and comments), it means a lot to me.

You and Dean stand on either side of Destiny, each holding one of her hands and letting her jump and swing between you, like any toddler would, as you climb up the steep dirt road towards the stunning wooden house. A dense forest surrounds the property, its trees painted in warm hues of gold and amber from the cool morning sun. As you walk, Dean's keen hunter instincts kick in. He looks around cautiously for any signs of movement in the trees, knowing this area would be prime real estate for many monsters, especially werewolves, and with a pup playing between you, he knows you’re all a clear target.

Once you get close enough to fully admire the house, Destiny says, “It’s like a cottage from those fairy tales.” You look at her and smile.

“It is, isn’t it?” You chuckle at her child-like innocence while Dean raises an eyebrow, sceptical about the fairy tale comparison. You know he has had many bad experiences with things from fairy tales in the past so you just offer him a smile. “Give it a chance.”

He scans the surroundings one last time before leading the three of you into the house. The real estate agent greets you at the entry. “Welcome! Feel free to take a look around and let me know if you have any questions.”

“Thanks,” you say as you continue to walk through the house. Dean makes his way into the spacious two-car garage first, making sure the space is adequate for housing his precious Baby. He smiles, nods and then continues down the hall with you and Destiny to explore the guest living area opposite the garage. With a proper home and on the other side of the hunting game, you hope to be able to welcome more visitors even if it is just Sam or Garth and his family. The downstairs consists of a large open plan area with a kitchenette, ensuite and plenty of room for a couch, queen bed, table and chairs. Making it more than adequate for any potential guests.

Destiny starts climbing the stairs ahead of you and you both follow her up the main floor. You admire the wooden, log cabin-esque walls and surrounds on the windows and double doors leading out to the wrap-around balcony. A large stone fireplace adorns the wall in the centre of the room. You imagine yourself wrapped up in Dean’s arms laying on a comfy couch in front of a crackling fire with a decorated fir tree in the corner, while you watch the snow fall outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. You smile at the image in your mind; Dean softly squeezes your hand as he pulls you towards the balcony where Destiny is already exploring. With your mind back on the here and now, you follow them outside and take in the mountainous view that’s even more breathtaking from up here. Destiny climbs up on the edge of a built-in hot tub and swishes her hands in the bubbling water. This area would be perfect for relaxing with your family, Dean grilling up burgers while you sip wine in the hot tub while Destiny splashes around beside you.

You turn away from the view to meet Dean’s eyes. “Can’t you imagine us here? Enjoying our first retirement here in the mountains as we raise our little girl. Relaxing out here or in there by the fire after you’ve had a long day training hunters or repairing cars.”

Dean nods slowly. He kisses your head and then scans the woods again. “If we’re gonna live here there’s a few more places we have to check out,” he says as he wraps an arm around your waist. “Hey, Dee, come on. We’re going back inside,” he calls in her direction.

She quickly and carefully climbs off the edge of the hot tub and hurries over to catch up with you then stays a few steps ahead. You all check out the bedrooms, and then the storage and office space upstairs, a space that will surely be filled with a selection of hunting tools and books if you move in. Back on the main level you finish the inspection in the kitchen. It has everything you need, for Dean or you to cook delicious meals, all with an unhindered surrounding view of the forest and mountains.

Pulling you into his chest, Dean says, “At least we’d always be able to see if anything’s coming.” Then he leans closer to your ear and lowly says, “I’d love to watch you coming in front of this view.”

Your breath hitches and your heart races. You don’t dare look at him as he kisses your cheek and pulls away. Just as you’re composing yourself, you hear the real estate agent come back into the kitchen. “So, what do you think?” She asks.

Dean looks at you and then Destiny. He smiles and then says, "It's got character, that's for sure. I like it.”

You spin around and hug him. “I really think it could be a good place for us.”

“Excellent! I knew this property had potential. Let’s discuss details.” She places her briefcase on the bench and pulls out a stack of paperwork and a pen. “Now, I'll be honest. This house has been on the market for a while. It's got history, and some folks believe it's haunted, but that's just local folklore, right?”

You and Dean exchange a knowing look, acknowledging the truth behind the supernatural tales surrounding the house. Despite the potential risks, the allure of a peaceful, secluded life away from the constant dangers of hunting is appealing. Plus, neither of you noticed any signs of a haunting while exploring the property. There are no cold spots or strange sounds, and the EMF detector hidden away in Dean’s jacket pocket continues to hum away quietly.

“We're not afraid of a little history. What's the asking price?”

The agent smiles, clearly happy at the potential of finally selling off the property. “I can work with you on the price, especially considering the, uh, unusual circumstances. Let's talk financing and closing dates. We can make this your home in no time.”

As the conversation delves into paperwork and negotiations, Destiny wanders around the room, staring out at the view.

Once you and Dean finish signing the paperwork, the agent produces a set of keys, dangling them enticingly. “Once we close the deal, these keys will open the door to your new chapter. Are you ready to make this house your own?”

You and Dean share a determined nod, your decision made. You both know you’re not just purchasing a house; you’re stepping into a new chapter of your lives, one that promises a semblance of normalcy in a world filled with the supernatural unknown.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423, @ladysparkles78, @canyouimaginethatstory, @mrlonelycat, @roseblue373, @staley83

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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dreamingofaizawa · 2 years

Text

Apologize

Pro Hero! Shinsou Hitoshi x Pro Hero! Female! Reader

***This is an 18+ fic. Minors DNI***

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (seriously it's very much not verbally consentual so be warned) dom/sub dynamics, brat/tamer dynamics, Shinsou being mean as fuck, breath play, humiliation(?), hatefucking, edging, light bondage, threat of heavier bondage, begging, nicknames (pretty girl, baby, baby girl, sweetheart, brat), he calls reader a bitch once, brat taming(?), sub drop, shitty ending cause my brain didn't want to imagine that bit. an itty bitty drop of yandere if you squint hard enough. lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Nobody look at me, don't even percieve me. This came to me at asscrack o'clock in the morning while I was TRYING to sleep. Everyone can thank my insomniac brain for this. Honestly, fuck you brain. I need SLEEP. Anywho, I cranked this out in like an hour all in one sitting. Fun.

Anywho, enjoy~

***

He’s been relatively nice to you, in the short time you’ve known him. Working alongside the purple-haired hero has been pleasant, you’d even go so far to say it’s been fun. Little jokes shared here and there, random short games like tag in the middle of a slow midnight patrol.

But there’s always going to be sides of people you don’t know about, and it’s really only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose. It starts with a bad bad day.

You’ve both been hunting down a lead for a special case you’ve been assigned for the past week. Today you got so so close. It leads to a dead end. After that, it only gets worse. Dead ends, one after the other, as you try to backtrack your way through where you could have gone wrong. Nothing. And Shinsou is getting more frustrated by the hour as you both hunch over his desk, scouring the case file for anything that could help. At some point, you give up. Decide it’s better to let it go and pick it up another time with fresh eyes and rested brains. You try to be encouraging when you ask him to do the same and join you on the couch.

“C’mon, Shinsou. Relax just for a minute, at least. We’ll look at it again in a few, but you gotta give your brain a break.” He huffs, glares at you for even thinking to suggest that.

“I refuse to sit on my ass like you. I’ve got shit to do.” Now that makes you freeze. He’s never…accused you? Like that?

“Wait- what is that supposed to mean? I’m trying to keep my head on straight instead of stressing and possibly missing something. What do you want me to do?” He slams his fist on the desk, only managing to get a small jump out of you.

“I want you to do your fucking job.” What the fuck? You’re on your feet, slowly stepping toward him. It’s a challenge, really, for him to do or say anything like that again.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He straightens and steps around the desk toward you, meeting you in the middle of the room. Both your eyes burn into each other, anger heating the entire room and painting it deep red.

“You heard me the first time.” You huff out through your nose, right in his face, before swiftly turning to make your way toward the door.

“Fuck you, Shinsou. If I knew my ‘partner’ was such an asshole I’d have never agreed to this bullshit.” Yeah, you’ve been fine with him. But you have zero tolerance for bullshit.

And then, in some doomed stroke of luck, you’re pinned to the wall before you can even react. Your vision blurs as you’re spun, the wind is knocked from your chest as your back hits the wall and your entire body is pinned by his own. Both your wrists are swiftly gathered in one of his large fists above your head, and his other hand wraps delicately around your throat, deft fingers squeezing ever so gently.

“You’re being such a damn bitch. Don’t you know this is important shit we’re working on?”

“What the fuck? You lash out at me and I’M the bitch?! Fuck o–” You’re cut off when his fingers squeeze hard, the rest of the word coming out garbled.

“Fuck, do you ever shut up? So vulgar, too.” You almost manage an eye roll, between trying to breathe and wriggling in his grasp in an attempt to escape. He’s playing with your breathing, squeezing in pulses and never letting up for too long. It’s making you dizzy, your chest heaving with every breath he so graciously granted you.

You hate to think it’s turning you on.

“I should gag you and string you up in the closet with my binding cloth. Maybe then I’ll be able to get something done for once.” He can feel your pulse quicken, see your pupils dilate just the tiniest bit and your thighs squeeze together ever so slightly. He’s got you right where he wants you.

“Oh? Little brat likes that idea? Well too fuckin’ bad, you don’t get what you like, or what you want.” He quickly spins you around and brings your hands down behind your back, securing them with that damned cloth of his, before slinking a hand around your throat again and pinning you to his front.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna apologize for interrupting me, for slacking, and for being a brat. And you’re gonna convince me you’re sorry, or else you don’t get to cum. Understand?” Who knew he could be so damn sadistic? And so fucking self-centered. What a piece of work. And you make it known how you feel.

“As if I’d apologize to the likes of you. Jackass.” He only chuckles before wrapping an arm around your waist, slipping his hand down the front of your sweats and snapping the band of your panties against your skin. Fuck. Why can you feel yourself getting wet?

“Now, what do you think I’m gonna find down here, huh? Cause I can tell you’re already hot and bothered, all for me.” You squirm harder, wiggling around to get him off you. But were you really trying? You’re a pro hero for god’s sake, surely you could get yourself out of this even with your hands bound. But why would you want to, when you already feel this good?

He’s walking backward, dragging you along with him until he reaches the couch, plopping down and leaning against the arm, sprawling his legs along the cushions with yours over top of them. With your arms bound it’s easy for him to release your throat in favor of tugging down both your sweatpants and panties, chuckling at the dark patch right in the crotch of your underwear. He doesn’t say anything about it. You both know he was right earlier, you both know your burning embarrassment.

He drops both items to the floor before gripping both your thighs and prying them open, despite your nowhere-near-best efforts to keep them wedged shut. Your knees are either side of his and his ankles hook over top of your own to keep you spread for him. Exposed for him.

“Let’s try this again, pretty girl.” It’s sickly sweet, the way he says it. Mocking and praising at the same time. A hand is at your throat again while the other reaches down to glide his fingers between your folds. You’re wet. Really, really wet. You can hear the squelch as he gathers your juices on his fingers and spreads it over your clit, rubbing slow firm circles over the already swollen nub. You jolt, and he chuckles. Fuck this is humiliating. And so hot.

“Apologize, and I’ll let you cum. You’ve got all the time in the world. As long as you do it before you cum I’ll work you through it, I promise.” You don’t want to. Apologizing is just admitting defeat. He can’t play this game forever, you can hold out, you’re sure of it.

Except his fingers are moving faster over your clit, rubbing harder and working you closer to that edge. And fuck, if it doesn’t feel so good the be so close to cumming. Your legs are starting to tremble, thighs trying to close around his hand and your breathing is getting heavier. You’re so close. Just a little more.

And then he stops.

Your entire body jolts with the lost orgasm, and you bite your lip to keep from making any noise. You can’t let him know he’s getting to you.

“Aw, did that not feel good baby? I’m sure you didn’t like me ripping that away from you. But it’s okay, you’ve got another chance to make it up to me.” And that isn’t a lie. You do get another chance. One you don’t take. He builds you up with just his fingers on your clit, dragging them away before you can fall over that blissful peak. It’s so frustrating, being so close and yet still so fucking far.

After the fourth or fifth time, there are tears in your eyes begging to fall, clumping your lashes together. Your thighs and abdomen burn from the constant tensing. And Hitoshi is getting annoyed.

So he starts again, running tight circles over your raw clit with those deadly fingers of his. But this time he dips two down into your pussy and curls them hard, slamming that spongy spot inside you. It’s so unexpected, so sudden you let out a loud, wanton moan as you arch off of him and buck your hips into his hand.

“There we go, baby girl. That’s it. Make some noise for me.” He doesn’t stop when your moans turn to whimpers and your whole body begins to shake with the intensity of your oncoming orgasm. You can feel that tight knot in your belly start to fray, pulling so tight it’ll snap any moment now, and the instant you start to cum he rips his fingers away from you. The tears you’d willed not to fall begin to stream down your cheeks, you’re too far gone to care that your sniffles and cries sound so pathetic. And you begin to grovel. Just like he wanted you to.

“Please -hic- please ‘Toshi, I wanna cum. Please let me cum it hurts.” He coos down at you, nuzzling his cheek against your own and you nuzzle right back, wrapped right around his sticky finger.

“Awe, poor baby. It hurts?” you nod, “Well, then you know what you have to do right? All you gotta do is apologize, and you can cum as many times as you want baby. Yeah? Doesn’t that sound good?” You nod again, whimpering into his mouth when he turns and ghosts his lips against yours.

“Go on then, sweetheart.” You shudder and hiccup some more, before finally giving in.

“I’m s-sorry, Shinsou. ‘M so sorry, I didn't mean to be a brat. I’m sorry for making you mad! I promise it won’t -hic- happen again, please I’m so sorry.” He’s glowing from it, from how pathetic you sound, how helpless and blissed out you are. Limp against his frame after being edged so much. So beautiful. And all his, he decides.

“Such a good girl for me. You can cum now, baby. Cum for me.” His fingers return to your sopping pussy, immediately battering your g-spot while his thumb rubs at your clit. You’ve never cum so fast or so hard in your life. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you see white, ears ringing as your whole body tenses and shakes, bowing off him as you nearly shout a broken moan. He helps you ride it out, continues stroking at your walls and clit until your body falls back down and shakes from overstimulation. Only then does he stop, wiping his cum soaked fingers across your thigh before tilting your head to lock his lips with your own. Though, you’re a little too out of it to reciprocate the sloppy makeout.

“C’mon baby, come back to me.” He’s tapping your cheek lightly, releasing the cloth around your wrists and massaging the tender skin. It takes a few minutes for your eyes to refocus, your breathing to stop stuttering and your limbs to stop trembling. When you do come back to reality, you cling to Hitoshi like a magnet.

“There you are. Shh, you’re alright baby.” You cry into his chest, almost wailing after the sudden release of endorphins. You’ve never felt so low, especially after such a heavenly high. He holds you, rubs your back and pets your hair, presses little kisses everywhere he can reach until you’ve fallen asleep from exhaustion.

He decides that maybe a break was needed, and that an apology from him was in order. But that can wait until you’re both rested, and you’ve been taken care of. For now, he allows himself to drift to sleep beneath you.

#shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi bnha #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou bnha #hitoshi shinsou mha #hitoshi shinsou x reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #twnoncon #twdubcon #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #not me tagging every 'tw'#just covering my bases honestly

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jeanbean01 · 2 years

Text

Please Let Me Wonder - Riddler x Reader

Part 2

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Kidnapping, Swearing, Edward being Edward.

Summary: Edward's hospitality takes a turn for the worst.

A/N: does anyone know how to link part one to this? I am inept. Also, sorry for the long wait! Hope y'all enjoy :)

You groggily blinked open your eyes and lifted your head from the soft pillow, groaning at the ache in your head. Your vision slowly came to you as you gazed around the room. An unfamiliar room. The walls were grey and damp and mouldy– a beautiful trio.

Following the state of the walls up to the ceiling revealed leaky cracks and a light fitting that had loose wires jutting out of it, an accident waiting to happen. The bedsheets, however, were a complete contradiction to the rest of the room. They were crisp and clean– fresh out of the dryer and smelling like peony and jasmine. Before you could investigate your surroundings further, the bedroom door creaked open and a tall figure shuffled into the room.

“Oh! You’re awake!” Edward came closer to you and placed a glass of water on the nightstand, “I didn’t expect you to be awake so soon! Good morning.” He smiled warmly at you, bending down ever so slightly to bring his face near yours.

You jumped back in shock and moved on the bed, “What the fuck!” You exclaimed, “Why am I in your bed!?”

What had he done to you?

He looked distressed at your reaction and reached his hand out to touch you, attempting to grab your hand.

“Don’t!” You flinched and hid your hand under the covers.

“You’re okay!” He pleaded, “I didn’t do anything, I promise!” He gestured his hands out in an attempt to console you, “You fell asleep, is all. I thought you might rest better in a bed, you seemed very tired.”

You looked him up and down suspiciously. There was no way to know if he was telling the truth or not, but the only hint of affliction was a headache– other than that you felt fine. The headache was understandable too; you hadn’t exactly had an easy couple of days.

In truth, you weren’t sure what to do. If Edward was really telling the truth, he was being indubitably hospitable and you’d feel awful if you took advantage of him further. On the other hand, though, you didn’t have anywhere else to go.

For now, you could indulge a little and rest up before searching for a place to stay. So, in response to Edward’s panicked consolation, you smiled weakly,

“Okay,” You croaked, “Thank you for letting me stay, I appreciate it.”

At this, Edward’s tensed shoulders sagged in relief and his alarmed expression relaxed,

“It was no problem at all,” He shrugged, “Make yourself at home, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, I’ll just be in the lounge.”

Edward exited the room and left you sitting in his bed quite clueless as to what to think about the situation at hand.

Deciding you were no longer groggy and tired, you pulled yourself up in the bed and slowly climbed out. Despite Edward assuring you to make yourself at home, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to know you were up and about. You crept quietly to the window, drawing back the curtain and letting the grey sky of Gotham fill your eye line, causing the walls of the room to look somehow even greyer. The room itself was sparsely decorated, with only a measly bedside table perched by the bed with a sad lamp that had a bare bulb showing. Underneath the window lay a rusty radiator; leaking fluid onto the carpet below, causing a dark circle to form from the wetness. You couldn’t exactly call it homely.

On the wall opposite the bed, there was a large sliding closet and one of the doors was slightly ajar, revealing a slither of dark green.

Curiosity overtook and you made your way over to the closet and slowly peeled the door back. There, hanging in the wardrobe, was a large green coat with a white painted question mark on its breast. There was something peaking out of the front pocket– another green item.

With a shaking hand, you reached in and pulled it out.

It was a mask of some sort. A very disturbing mask with eye holes and a mouth cover. Was Edward just into some freaky shit or was there more to it? A gasp behind you interrupted you from contemplating it further.

“What are you doing?” A terse voice spoke from the doorway.

You whipped round to see Edward standing with a stony expression on his face– one very different to the cherubic innocence that was painted on it previously.

“I was just-” You faltered, “-just looking around. I’m sorry, Edward.” You weren’t sure how to respond, yes it was intrusive and rude to be snooping in someone’s room– especially when Edward had been so kind to you– but you hadn’t found anything that incriminating.

Though Edward must have thought differently. His face scrunched up and he let out a low whine, “No. No! No, it wasn’t meant to be like this!” He groaned, “Why? Why did you have to go and do that?”

It seemed as though he wasn’t talking to you, more to himself in a manic manner. You didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry, Edward! I didn’t mean to snoop, I’ll leave now. I’ve clearly upset you.” You moved towards him, ready to leave his apartment and never return.

Though before you could push past Edward, he gripped your shoulders tightly and held you in place.

“I can’t let you do that. You’ve seen now, you’ll ruin everything if I let you go.”

Your stomach dropped, and dread began to creep into your bones. This guy was fucking nuts.

You tried to struggle out of his grip, but his hands were vice on your shoulders.

“Let me go! Seriously, this isn’t fucking funny!” You began to panic, wriggling helplessly in his hold.

“Stop! Stop it!” He cried, “I don’t want to hurt you, stop fucking moving!”

You began to scream, you weren’t going to be murdered in a shitty Gotham apartment without a fight.

“No! Shut up!” He bellowed, “Shut up or I’ll make you.”

He shoved his hand over your mouth, muffling the shouts that were leaving it. You could barely breathe, and your heart was pounding in your chest– you were stuck.

He began to manoeuvre you towards to window and roughly shoved you down on the floor. Your head cracked on the radiator, causing your eyes to smart and your brain to fog. In your confused state, you forgot to retaliate and quietly allowed Edward to tie your wrists tightly to the pipes while your head spun wildly.

A sharp rip resounded through the room before a piece of fabric was roughly shoved into your mouth, rendering you completely helpless. Once he was done, he stood back, admiring his work and you squinted up at him. His face was blurry.

“There,” He said, “That’ll do.” He was breathing heavily, and you could see his chest heaving from your position on the floor.

“I’m sorry I had to do this but you’ve seen too much. If I let you go now my plan will fail.” His voice had gone back to the sweet, gentle one you had first been acquainted with.

“I have so much to do, I haven’t even started yet.” He crouched down to look you in the eye, “I’ll try not to hurt you,” He whispered fervently, “and I’ll let you go once I’m finished. I promise.”

His eyes were filled with such honesty that you couldn’t help but believe him.

“Now, if you promise to be a good girl, I’ll treat you better than a prisoner. Okay?”

You nodded weakly in response, what other choice did you have?

“Good. I think I’ll leave you like this for now.” He uttered, “You need to learn to behave.”

At this, he rose from his crouch and abandoned you in his bedroom, bound to the radiator and terrified.

#riddler x reader #paul dano x reader #paul dano #dano!riddler #dano!riddler x reader #danocel #danonation #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #riddler

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residentdormouse · 4 months

Text

Springing into a Word Search

Alright, I have been sitting on this so long, that I got tagged in another set of words in the meantime. Bad Mouse. Must get my writing routine back....

Anyway, thank you @mrsmungus for keeping my tiny writer gears grinding. Although, this is probably my worst showing yet. Not a Spring girl, I'm afraid. Probably not great seeing as my blorbos is all about painting. It's pretty, I suppose....

My Words: Growth, Flower, Fresh, Dawn, Easter, Break, Clean, Rainbow, Blossom/Bloom/Bud, Hayfever (or sneeze, or allergies)

I will as well leave this as an OPEN TAG because I don't know how many would want to join our constant word search absurdity. If you even remotely think, 'hey that might be fun', please do not hesitate to join, and tag me so I don't miss it!

Your Words: Swim, Beach, Sand, Waves, Float, Heat, Vacation, Rest, Relax, Calm

As always, excerpts below the cut.

Growth: Dammit - you got me. Not one mention. Touché.

Flower: (From Diving)

The larger space was a welcome change from the harsh area they had just been in, and Glen welcomed the sight coming from the large picture window on the side wall. Well maintained pebble walkways led around a quaint garden area. A few trees, shrubs, a couple black iron benches, and tinges of pinks, yellows, and oranges popped out from the various flowers planted around the walkways. Crystal clear water fell in a continuous flow from the center fountain, with a few brightly colored fish in the small pond below. He found himself gravitating closer to the scene, as the others could be heard pacing about or taking seats in the numerous open couches scattered around the space.

Fresh: (We got fresh blood, fresh starts, fresh milk, and a fresh hell. Haven't done a Harold section in a while, so Fresh start it is.)

“Okay, so I'm just gonna jump in cause I don't have much finesse with all this and I don't use my words as well as Glen. And you don’t have to say anything. I’ll sit here and babble like an idiot; you can jump in if you want.” Deep breath. “We're about to get to Boulder. You can choose who you want to be now. And correct me if I’m wrong, but right now, you don't seem like somebody who's very happy. So you can keep on carrying pain from a life you don't have anymore, and I’ll stop bothering. But if we're choosing, maybe you can choose to leave that pain here. Right here. When we hit Boulder, you have your fresh start. You can be the guy who holds up his end of deals, and writes stories, and has fun. Or whoever else you want to be." Gaze still locked on the fire, she tapped his foot with hers, trying to pull his attention. "It's your call, but you have that choice..."

Dawn: (Only one Dawn, and its not great. Can you tell I'm not a morning person?)

The night remained clear from threats and capped off the rain day break as a needed detour. Susan and Dayna were able to enjoy the small comfort of sleeping in an actual bed, safe within their room walls. Harold started in on one of the blank books he picked up, filling the journal pages by candlelight. Hayden and Glen found comfort with each other, while he shared stories into the night. And Fran found the walls quiet enough to chance a visit next door with Stu. By the end of dawn the next morning, everything was packed and ready to move on. One step closer to Boulder.

Easter: Once again, you got me. Guess who's least favorite season is Spring...

Break: (Hey! I finally got one from Close to the Vale!)

Humor remained in his expression, most likely resulting from her momentary stupor, but she held his gaze for as long as she could, only breaking away to glance downward when the sliver of self consciousness took hold. Even still, her smile remained. Despite her downcast focus, she was still able to catch the way his eyebrows raised in amusement before he turned back towards the counter. Holding out a packet in the air, he proceeded to move along the worn down surface until he hit an opening.

Clean: (Not the segment you thought you would get for this word, is it?)

"C'mon, everybody needs a little break here and there!" But that’s what Teddy failed to realize; this wasn't a break. Not to him. What Teddy was proposing was entering a social battle that required constant vigilance. Anticipate the moves, blend into the background when possible, and strike out only with a sure bet. Practiced movements and rehearsed repertoire. Break? Exhausting is what it was, and Harold certainly didn't have the energy to put up a front for that long. Not after a full day of clean up. The thought of the daily activities only ushered in a wave of fresh memories. Sensory recall he wished he could will away. Smells that would threaten to up heave anything he managed to put down. Decomposition. It lingered in his nostrils and he could almost taste it. That’s all that was there for him. Death. Disgust… All things he would put up with to position himself where he needed to. A place to get the most leverage when the time came.

Rainbow: (Only two of these, and I'm pretty certain I used the other one on our last Tumblr takeover. Guess we're having a Harold day now...)

"He knows, by the way. So there's that. Knew before I got there. Maybe I shouldn't have confirmed it, but what the fuck, y'know? I'm not gonna blatantly lie to his face..." Knowing her well enough to predict that she would look to follow after his couple puffs, Glen held the pen out to her voluntarily. There was no hesitation to take it. "That said, don't think she was off base with the concern. Something's not right with him." "What makes you say that?" No humor to it, no jokes, just inquiry. "He wants to quote, show the world who it's playing against, unquote, or something like that. However he said it, though, it didn't sound like something one does with rainbows and butterflies." "No, it doesn't." "So, I repeat. When did this all get so fucked…"

Blossom/Bloom/Bud: (Don't have any blossoms or blooms, but we got weed by god. Knew I'd find a 'bud'.)

Despite being quick, or at least thinking he was, it wasn’t fast enough. As he rounded the corner, he spotted Benny laying down on the floor. A few more steps and he could confirm there was no longer a rise and fall to his chest. A few steps further and the gap between them closed. Once he set down his bag, Glen closed the man’s eyes. The small container of buds was then placed in his hands, much like one would place the more common type of flower. Sure, it did nothing for him at this point, and there was nobody left here to know what was done, but it made him feel better. Humanity could die out, but it didn't mean he had to lose himself or his ways along with it. Not until that time came for him as well. As he stepped back out into the daylight, he took a deep breath of the fresh air, savoring the aroma that lacked the lingering stench of death.

Hayfever/Sneeze/Allergies: Holy fuck dude, you got me again. I think this is the worst I've ever done at one of these...

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studiomkm · 7 months

Text

Buck Barnaby final prototype opening

Finally got a flow and a feeling I'm happy with. Now BEHOLD!!! My opening chapter, the heinous crime...

A gentle autumn breeze blew leaves down the sidewalk and shook the lighter Halloween decorations that still held their places in the yards of the neighborhood Ethel Freeman took her weekend morning walk. A two-piece jogging outfit kept the 62 year old woman’s body warm despite the sense of melancholy that cooled her heart. It was November 1st and thus all the wonderful decorations that had given her street such vibrant life for nearly a month would soon have to come down.

“Good morning, Miss Freeman!”

Ethel stopped at the end of her driveway and politely greeted her neighbor, the young werewolf Roan.

“I hope my pack’s Halloween party last night didn’t keep you up. I try to keep them from getting to crazy but you know how it is with us wolves…” he said with a slight sniffle.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I stayed up late grading papers once the trick-or-treaters stopped coming anyway so I could enjoy my weekend. I have to ask though, are you coming down with a cold?”

“Oh no,” he assured her as he wiped his nose with a napkin from his back pocket, “Somebody just pranked our party by tossing this weird wolfsbane potpourri bomb into the living room through the back door. We had it wide open so anyone could come and go for fresh air as they please. But yeah, combine sneezing werewolves with drunk werewolves and you’ve got a recipe for sleeping in well past noon the day after.”

“Well I assume that you being up and talking to me this morning means you were a little more responsible than your guests,” Ethel replied with a small bit of admonishment in her tone.

“Oh yeah. Pack rules: I hosted the party so I had to stay sober in case somebody needs a designated driver, which three people did,” he explained.

“I thought you didn’t have a license?”

“I don’t, but-” he said as he shifted from fully human to partially wolfish with a mischievous smirk, “-I’ve got a strong back, fast legs and a killer jump.”

Ethel smiled and rolled her eyes then walked to her front door to unlock it.

“How’s Evan by the way?” Roan asked as Ethel fiddled with her house keys.

“He’s fine… had a lot of fun last night floating our decorations around with his powers. I bet he’ll be tuckered out for the rest of today though. I’ll be surprised if he lifts up anything heavier than the TV remote today.”

“I didn’t know ghosts could get tired.”

“Maybe not all ghosts, but definitely little Evan.” She replied as she finally got her door unlocked, “Well you take care now, Roan, and maybe put on some tea to help with your stuffy noses.”

Roan chuckled and smiled warmly.

“Will do, Miss Freeman. Hope you and Evan have a relaxing day,” he said before bounding back to his house, still half-shifted.

Ethel entered her home, unable to bother with her still open front door just yet as she went to hang the jacket of her jogging suit up. The door closed behind her right as she got her jacket on the coat rack in the hallway and a smile lit up her face.

“Thank you, Evan. You didn’t have to do that. I know you’re still recovering from last night,” she called out cheerfully as she made her way to the kitchen.

Evan floated down through the ceiling, his ghostly glow painting the walls around him with a sky blue light, and pointed towards the door as he followed Ethel into the kitchen by her side.

“Yes, I know. It was very nice of you,” she said while smiling at the spectral child.

On the kitchen table was some mail from the previous day that she hadn’t yet bothered to open. Ethel grabbed it on her way to the coffee maker and pulled out one of the pods from the cabinet above, along with her second favorite mug. The machine hummed into action and the smell of French roast filled the air within moments as the woman of the house flipped through what she had received.

Most of it was the usual, predictable spam but one envelope in the middle of the pile put an immediate frown on her face. The unnatural smile of the local big shot real estate man, Darryl Bell, stared up at her from the envelope’s face and she didn’t need to open it to know its contents. She tore the envelope up with moderate prejudice then tossed its remains in her trash right as her cup of coffee finished brewing.

“First he won’t make that boy stop calling and now he invades my mailbox. I’m about ready to march right on up to that office of his and tear him a new one so hard I’ll be able to hear Mama gasp from Heaven,” Ethel growled.

Evan silently chuckled at her display of indignity. The act had finally stopped his pointing at the door and Ethel shook her head, smiling as she took her first sip of coffee. The perfectly bitter brew caused a pleased hum to escape her lips.

“Nothing hits you quite like that first little bit of coffee, Evan,” she said to her ghostly companion as she took a seat at the table.

Evan floated down and mimicked sitting down next to her, though it wasn’t actually possible for him to touch the seat.

“Can you believe that in just two measly little weeks, it’ll be twenty-five years to the day since I started sharing this house with you?”

Evan smiled and shook his head no.

“Well I certainly can. I get a little more tired and a little more sore every morning. I’m finally starting to understand why Mama was always so grumpy when she was my age.”

A loud crash from the hallway interrupted their pleasant morning conversation so suddenly that Ethel jumped in her seat while swearing. The startling noise had also caused her to spill her coffee, which elicited a second swear. Ethel moved quickly to grab some paper towels to clean the mess with while Evan floated towards where the sound had come from.

“This had better not be an omen for the rest of my day, I swear to God…” Ethel grumbled.

Once the coffee had been cleaned up and the paper towels tossed in the trash, Ethel made her way back to the hallway. A vase, along with the water and lilies it once held, lay shattered on the floor.

“Oh come on, I just bought this… and it was in the middle of the table!” she whined.

Evan cocked his head and floated through the floor until his eyes were level with the shattered pieces. The position made him look like a glowing toupee with eyes but Ethel was too upset to find it amusing.

“Evan, did you do this?”

The ghostly youngster shook his head no.

“Then how did it break? I was nowhere near it and we didn’t just have a little earthquake, so how did it fall off the middle of the table in our hallway?” she demanded as she crossed her arms, “Accidents are accidents but don’t you dare lie to me, young man.”

Evan rose out of the floor with fury on his face. The temperature around them dropped so sharply that the water spilled onto the floor froze as the ghost boy violently shook his head no. Ethel leveled the same glare she gave her students when she was trying to catch them in lies but Evan continued to silently deny any guilt. After a few more moments of intense staring, offset slightly by Ethel’s equally intense shivering, Evan disappeared entirely from view.

Despite Evan’s absence, the cold he had created remained and so had the ice. Ethel let out a large breath along with an angry moan then turned around. She would have to get something from the kitchen to help break up the ice before she could clean it, along with more paper towels to clean up any wet spots that might remain.

“That boy’s getting an earful once I’ve calmed down…” Ethel grumbled to herself as she stomped back towards the kitchen.

She only managed four steps before another loud crash from the hallway caused her to stop dead in her tracks. It was the unmistakable sound of glass breaking and the only glass in the entry hallway were photos of her family. A terrible fear overtook her features as she bolted back to the hallway as quickly as she could, followed by a terrible sadness as her worst fear was confirmed.

The broken picture was the last one she had taken with her mother while the woman was still healthy enough to exist outside of hospice.

“No no no no no….” she softly chanted as she bent over to pick up the precious memory.

There wasn’t even enough time to wipe all the tiny shards of glass off the photo before a third crack filled the room, this time accompanying a terrible pain in Ethel’s head. The poor woman instinctually grabbed at her head, the photo still gripped tightly in her fingers. It took several seconds for her to register that she’d just been hit in the back of the head and as she stumbled groggily backwards, she spied her coat rack move all on its own.

It smashed into her legs like a baseball bat and sent her to the ground. Her head suffered more damage as she collided with the hard tile underneath her and Ethel’s vision filled with stars. She was blinded but felt the full weight of her coat rack as it slammed down on top of her prone body. She cried out in agony and irrationally curled herself around the photograph she had somehow managed to keep hold of. More blows rained down upon her and in her state of terror and pain Ethel could only think of one thing. She gathered what air was still left in her lungs and cried out as loudly as she could.

“EVAN!!!!”

#writing #creative writing #original story #mystery #detective stories #feedback appreciated #critique welcome

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rezzyromance · 3 years

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Idk if this is how you request things or if it's just asking, BUT-

How would the Lords react to an S/O that's usually the chillest person that you will ever meet (not to be confused with a pushover because they are not), they've never seen them even mildly annoyed when something bad happens. But then something happens and, turns out, the S/O is utterly TERRIFYING when they're mad.

Hope this makes sense!

Aw man I'm gonna feel awful scaring Moreau and Donna :(

Alcina

You're relaxing on a beautiful morning. The sun is shining through the window just enough to warm the room but not hurt your eyes. You hadn't even changed out of your sleep wear. "How are you feeling, my dear?", a sweet voice rang from the doorway. You were sitting in your favorite chair near the window. You turn and smile at her. She walks over and rubs your face in her large hand before leaning down and giving you a soft kiss. "I'm feeling amazing. And you?", you grab her hand before she pulls it away and you place a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm feeling alright. There's a new maid here. She's a bit slow. I'm giving her until tonight to finish dusting the entire castle or else she won't see another sunrise." It was almost comedic how dark her words were as you both stared out the window and gazed at the beautiful scenery. "Come on Alcina.", you stand up and place your hands on hers, trying to hold them despite the size difference. "Give the girl a break. It's a huge castle AND it's her first day.", you knew your words would probably change nothing. Alcina was rather cruel, but you looked past it. You tried your best to make the nervous maids comfortable whenever they arrive.

"We'll see how she does." She gives you one more kiss before leaving the room. You sit back down in your chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun for a little while longer. You lose track of time, minutes maybe even hours go by. Suddenly, there's a crash not far from the door. You jump and stand up, no longer comfortable after being startled. "What in the name of Mother Miranda?!", you leave the room and look down the hallway. The new maid stood there with a terrified look on her face. In front of her was one of the paintings Alcina had on her walls, now with a broken frame and a hole punctured. Your blood began to boil. It was a painting of you, her, and the girls all together. It was your favorite. "How in the hell did you manage to do that?!", you begin to stomp towards her. She cowers and struggles to find her words. "I-I-I was just dusting! It fell and I-I didn't mean t-", you cut her off. "How the fuck did you knock such a large painting over just by dusting?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE ALLOWED TO MAKE SUCH STUPID MISTAKES HERE?!", you unravel. "I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!", she almost begins to weep. "SORRY ISN'T GONNA SAVE YOUR ASS!"

"MISS DIMITRESCU PLEASE HELP!", she cries out. You freeze, realizing that the lady herself is right behind you. You turn to face her. Her eyes are wide with shock. She has never seen you like this before and never even knew you had this type of side to you. She was impressed as much as she was terrified. "(Y/N)? Are you alright my love?" She had no idea what to do as your seething slowed down. "Why don't you go back to the room, yes? Settle down a little and deal with her later.", she places a hand on your back helps walk with you back to the room. Once you're there, she bends down to whisper in your ear. "I don't know where this side of you has been this whole time, but I am so amazed by you. And also a little frightened."

Donna

The Beneviento house was usually a calm place despite its creepy aura. You and Donna are both quiet and chill people. Never once have you fought or even raised your voices at each other. It was pleasant.

You had planned a nice dinner for the both of you. You wanted to try out a new recipe and surprise her, so you made your way to the kitchen to get started. "Okay, what first? I guess I'll need a pot.", you go rummaging through the kitchen and you find the pots stacked within each other inside one of the top cabinets. You groan and stand up on your toes, grazing the pots with your fingers. It didn't take much to cause them to tumble down, crashing on top of you with a loud sound that followed. "Aw shit.", you sighed and picked up the knocked over pots. A small but annoying pain began to throb in your head from where it made contact with a pot. What you didn't notice was you forgot to pick one of the pots up. It remained unnoticed. "It's fine.", you say to yourself as you maintain your composure. Next, a cutting board and knife. You turn around and begin to walk forward to find the cutting board, but you slam your toe into counter. You wince in pain and grab your foot. "SON OF A BITCH!", you yell.

You calm yourself, still wanting to have a pleasant meal with Donna. "Alright. Everything's fine." You step forward and kick the pot that you had forgotten to pick up. It caused your freshly kicked toe to ache even more. "OH COME ON! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!", you scream and swear as you throw your arms up in pure rage and shock.

"...(Y/N)?", a gentle voice whispered from the doorway, causing you to whip your head in that direction. It was Donna. She looked absolutely horrified and almost looked like she could cry. "Is.. is everything... are you alright?", she worried. "Yes. I'm sorry. Just got a little pissed off.", you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, feeling bad for scaring the poor girl.

Moreau

You were sitting on the dock together, looking into the water as your feet swung back and forth above it. It was a sunny day and you two decided to spend it outside. Your hand slowly made its way over to his. His feet stopped swinging for a second as you entangled your fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/N)." his words were bitter sweet as a gentle smile formed from his lips. "Oh, Sal. You don't have to think like that. I'll always be here for you.", you kiss his cheek and continue to relax as you sway your legs.

"There it is! There's the beast!", a voice yelled from not so far away. You both look in the direction of the voice and see a few young village boys. Possibly between the ages of 13 and 16. Moreau had become some what of a scary story for the villagers. A tale that kids spread on school court yard and bring up during dares. But, you've never seen a kid brave enough to actually make it far enough into the reservoir to actually see Moreau. Now, there were about 3. All of them stood and pointed, shocked and terrified.

"Hey beast! Come get me!", one kid teases. You glare at the kids as a newfound rage begins to boil inside you. "Let's go back inside.", Moreau says before standing up from the doc. The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, one of the children gathers the guts to pick up a rock and throw it as hard as he could. His aim was off, but not by much. It slammed into the wood near Moreau's feet, startling him. "Take that you devil!", he laughs. "THAT'S IT YOU LITTLE SHIT!", you begin sprinting in the direction of the immature brats. Two of them run from the direction they came from while the one who threw the rock was frozen in fear. You took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his shirt. "Listen here you little waste of space. I'm gonna give you 3 seconds to turn around and run for your goddamn life. If you or any of your little snot-nosed friends come around here again, they'll be goddamn fish food. Do you understand?" The kid was too scared to speak and instead began to nod rapidly. You let him go and watched as he ran as fast as he could, screaming the whole way.

You walk back to the shack and find Moreau standing in the same place he was when you took off. His mouth was agape and he looked almost as scared as the kids. "You alright Sal? I made sure those little shits won't be coming around here anymore." "Yeah... I didn't know you could be so... scary", he says. "I'm sorry. But those kids were being cruel. I had to do something.", you say. "Well... it was awesome!", he smiled. "But also very scary!" You laugh which helps sooth him a little.

Heisenberg

"Screw driver.", is all Karl said with an outstretched palm. He was working on some type of mechanical heart for his experiments. He wanted you to lend a "helping hand" even though he could easily do it all by himself. He did this because he wanted to be around you, he was just too stubborn with too big of an ego to simply say it. So here you were, handing him every little tool he asks for.

"Do you want the big one or the little one?", you say with a hint of boredom in your tone. "Aw c'mon don't sound like that! Isn't this exciting? It's like you're working on it with me! Also, hand me the big one.", you do as he says and hand him the big screw driver. "I just don't get it. You literally have powers. You can easily do this by yourself and have been for so long. Why do you need me to help?" He pauses for a second and looks over towards you, his brow slightly furrowed. "I don't NEED you to help. I just thought it would be nice for you to help out. Plus, you're the one always bitching about me constantly working. Well, here you are! Helping me work! So, either suck it up or you can leave." His harshness had no real ill will in it. He was just confused and a bit too ignorant to consider his words. But, he was testing your patience. He continued to use the screwdriver until handing it to you without saying a word.

"Hand me a screw.", he demanded with his hand facing palm up again. "Which size?" "They're all the same sizes, dumbass." You feel your blood begin to boil. "They're different fucking sizes! This one is smaller than this one!", you hold up two screws that are obviously different sizes. This makes Karl angry. Not because you were right, but because you seemed upset over something that seemed so insignificant.

"If you came here just to yap in my ear, then I don't think I need your assistance.", he huffed. You put the selection of tools and supplies he was making you hold on the table he is working on and ball your fists. "You're the one who told me to do this in the first place!", you yell. "Yeah, because you won't stop bitching! Non-stop you're always compla-" you cut him off before he can finish. "SHUT UP!", you yell. The room goes silent. "YOU SAY I'M BITCHING? HAVE YOU HEARD YOURSELF? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST KARL YOU BITCH AND MOAN ALL THE TIME! I'M DONE TAKING SHIT FROM YOU!" He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He felt something much more overwhelming. Was he.. intimidated? He didn't move from his seat. All he could do was look up at you with a confused expression. What now? What is there to do? If he pushes you further, what would happen? He was actually too scared to find out.

You take a deep breath to calm down before speaking. "Now, if you want me to help with your shit, I'll stay as long as you keep your mouth shut. Can you possibly manage to do that?" He gulps nervously. "Yes ma'am."

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charliedawn · 2 years

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hello hello!! could i request the slashers with a s/o who's skilled in making drinks? like they're a barista so they know how to make certain types of warm comfort drinks like coffee, but they put their own twist into it?? ty! <3

You conquered him the moment you said "I can make drinks".

He may be disappointed to see that they're drinks with no alcohol inside, but a coffee is nice too.

He would take one in the morning and add his "special stuff" inside..which consists of a mix of all the alcohol he could find in the house.

"Thanks, peach. You're a doll."

Freddy Krueger basically lives on drinks and booze, so, let's say you're the main reason he's still standing.

Freddy : "I don't know where I would be without you.."

You *pretends to think about it* : "Probably under a bridge, passed out, two to three empty bottles of cheap booze around you..?"

He smiles before wrapping his arms around your middle.

"You really know me too well..."

They don't really need drinks.

But, if you add some human blood or animal flesh ? They'd be able to enjoy it.

Penny emptied his in a minute, but you really don't want him to drink coffee..His metabolism is very sensitive and one drop of coffee is equal to 2 cups for him.

Penny *climbing the walls and tearing paintings to shreds*

Pennywise *big sigh of resignation before climbing up after him* : "Come on, Penny. Get back down and drink some water or something.."

Pennywise is a little less sensitive. He'd take his coffee with his breakfast and just sit peacefully on the porch, sipping his blood coffee.

It doesn't do much to him, but it does relax him in some way.

"I like the moose coffee best."

Each of them have a favorite kind of blood and animal flesh.

It was odd at first, but you quickly got used to it.

Penny likes reindeer or rabbit blood and Pennywise prefers moose or wolf blood.

Fortunately, the hospital provides it all, but the smell can be a bit too strong sometimes, so do be careful none of it gets on you, or the Penny Brothers may accidently mistake you for a free drink/meal. 😅

Do not give Hedwig coffee. I repeat. Do NOT give this child coffee.

He'd be unstoppable and would make a mess, jumping up and down on the patients' beds, run around the hospital, open doors he is not supposed to open, jump on the electrical fence...

So, yeah, he can also be very sneaky when he wants to.

For example, pretend to be Dennis or Patricia to get his hands on a cup of coffee...

He's the reason Five hides his coffee machine.

He will also actually eat the coffee beans like candy and take a handful behind your back, providing him with enough energy to lit the hospital on fire.

This is why Patricia usually takes the light in the morning and doesn't let Hedwig out until you're at your coffee shop or out of the house.

Dennis and Patricia actually like coffee and each personality have different tastes.

This is why it was difficult for you to keep up at first, but it became easier when the personalities decided to create some sort of color code for you.

It means that if it's Dennis, he'll wear a red pin, if it's Patricia a blue one and you'll then immediately know who you're talking to and what kind of order you need to prepare.

But as I said: Hedwig is sneaky.

Hedwig *wearing Patricia's blue pin and running off with a cup of coffee* : "COFFEE IS THE BEST !"

Brahms would get some hot cocoa and ask for a tiny cup for his doll.

He would then sit quietly and not be a bother for a while, just enjoying his cereals and his cup of cocoa.

He usually likes a big amount of cream in his cup and would even ask you for the whole bottle of cream (he really has a sweet tooth..)

He would even ask if he can stay and learn.

"I like your drinks..I..I want to learn so I can make people s..smile.."

He noticed that your drinks usually make people smile and he wants people to smile at him like that..

However, your smile is the best.

He feels happy whenever smile at him and this is maybe what brought him to ask you out ?

He was so nervous the day he did and ordered 5 cups before finally asking you.

"H..Hey. Would you...Hum...You and me ?"

He may not have been very eloquent that day, but it was enough and he was so happy when you accepted.

Jason often wakes up early and always sees you up before everyone else, just to get what you need to make the slashers' their drinks.

He usually makes you breakfast to keep you company and does his best to help you.

Jason has a job as a lumberjack and this is why you usually wake up at the same time to go to your respective job.

Fortunately, your place of work is not so far from his, so you usually bring him his coffee during his lunch break.

He does come for a drink sometimes, but as your coffee shop is rather popular, he usually waits for you outside.

Jason doesn't like crowded places and prefers when you're both alone, this is why he usually asks you to make him a coffee in the morning or at night.

Actually, you met during one of your late shifts.

He used to come after midnight and take his coffee to go, but he eventually opened up a little.

He started enjoying your company and stayed to enjoy his coffee inside your coffee shop, sometimes to chat up with you (not that the man would ever actually start any conversation) or enjoy the comfortable silence while you would hum to yourself.

It was during one of these nights that he finally gathered up the courage to ask you out. (not without asking advice from the other slashers first.)

He's glad he did..

Arthur actually first entered your coffee shop after a heist, he needed to hide and decided to enter through the first door he found.

He was hurt and could barely breathe, but still succeeded in ordering a coffee.

You nodded before preparing his order, but then, he heard policemen enter and hid underneath the table.

"Did a clown come in ?"

He wanted to huff. A clown ? Really ? That was the best they could describe him ?

However, he doubted many clowns came in and was about to reach for his gun when he froze at your answer.

"No customer today. Too bad, huh ?"

He frowned. Why would you protect him ?

The policemen finally left and after a moment of hesitation, Arthur stood up and looked at you. You didn't.

You just prepared his drink and gave it to him with a wide smile.

"Here. Enjoy."

He looked at the cup of coffee in his hand and frowned in incomprehension.

"Why didn't you say anything ?"

He finally asked and you only shrugged.

"The police doesn't pay me. You do."

He smiled too before taking a sip of his drink, closing his eyes at the taste of bitter coffee mixed with cinnamon.

He didn't forget you and came back afterwards multiple times until he finally asked you out.

Arthur is one of those people who really don't like mornings.

He doesn't want to glare at you, it's natural.

He's grumpy until he get his morning coffee.

Don't panic if he start mumbling to himself or stare at you, he doesn't even notice when he does it.

However, a smile would grace his features as soon as he would have his coffee in hand.

He likes a hint of cinnamon in his, it adds to the flavor.

"Thank you, darling."

Michael will not ask you, as he doesn't really need to.

You know what he likes and he spends most of his day just reading with a cup of coffee next to him.

He will sometimes ask for a refill by raising his hand.

Michael doesn't like using his voice and he will make sure not to.

When you first met, he was actually surprised that you didn't force him to talk, but gave him a piece of paper to write what he wanted.

You became his favorite barista after that and one day, he actually asked you for a piece of paper.

You thought it was to order something else, so you obeyed without asking any questions, even though you were surprised as he wasn't exactly the type to try something new.

He seemed almost nervous when you came back and he scribbled something before giving it back to you.

Your eyes widened when you saw what he had written down.

"Date ? Yes. No."

You couldn't help but smile and blush before encircling your answer and coming back with his usual order.

Let's say..You and Michael did go on a date and it didn't take you long to warm up to the silent giant.

Norman usually makes his own coffee, but one day, his coffee maker broke and he had to go somewhere else to get his drink.

He crossed the street and went inside your coffee shop and was welcomed by your radiant face.

"Hello there ! What can I get you ?"

Norman remembers having ran out of the coffee shop as quickly as he had entered.

He was almost immediately smitten with you.

It had taken him a few days before coming back, and you still welcomed him with a bright smile.

"Well well..Look what the cat brought back in ? I hope you're not going to run on me again ?"

He nodded sheepishly before sitting down and ordering a coffee.

He didn't wait long and you came back with his order, but Norman was surprised to find you had added something else.

"...Caramel ?"

You smiled and winked at him.

"Yup. Thought you would like something a little sweeter inside ?"

He blushed and nodded.

Since that day, Norman came by everyday and you started talking.

It was rather surprising for Norman who usually wasn't much of a talker, but it was easy with you, and you sure did make the best coffee in town.

Five was actually looking around for a good coffee shop when he found yours, after many disappointments.

He was grumpy and only wanted to enjoy a good cup of coffee and was even rude to you the first time you came to take his order.

Five : "Coffee. Black. 1 sugar."

You : "Well..You look more like someone who would enjoy it with milk and a spoon of chocolate powder ?"

Five : "It's because I'm a kid, is that it ?!"

He snapped, but you only arked an eyebrow quizzically at him before turning around and preparing his coffee.

When you came back and he saw chocolate powder on top, he looked up at you with clear murderous intent in his eyes, but you only addressed him a knowing smile, putting your hands on your hips.

"Taste. If you don't like it ? You can keep glaring at me all you want."

He rolled his eyes, but still gave it a try out of curiosity.

He was surprised.

He actually loved it..

"So ?"

You knew from the look on his face only that he was regretting his words, but he only shrugged.

"Yeah...It's good. I guess.."

It was the best cup of coffee he ever had actually, but his huge ego didn't allow him to say it.

However, he kept coming back afterwards and didn't even ask what sort of coffee he wanted, letting you choose.

Five didn't take much time to fall for you.

Your coffee being one of the main reasons why he did.

Coffee is an art for Five, either you're talented or you're not.

He could feel your enthusiasm and your good heart in his cup and this is why he decided he would only come to you for his coffee.

Plus, you don't treat him like a kid and can support his harsh personality.

"You. Me. Date. Now."

He didn't even let you answer before taking your hand and teleporting you both somewhere a little more private.

Five is not a patient man and when he wants something, he rarely accepts no as an answer.

However, the best decision he ever took ? It was to walk inside your coffee shop.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #the horde x reader #arthur fleck x reader #norman bates x reader #slashers #slashers au

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loousir · 3 years

Text

[Naga] Snake Bites

Naga Male x Bold (& kinda dense) Artist Male Reader

Syerca

Setting: Mostly a Naga's cave deep into a forest.

Warnings: Soft lime at the end (marking/mate), bad (was the first oneshot in the original book), slight mention of naga attacking reader

Masterlist

-----------------------

The fall breeze blew gently, tossing some fallen leaves around some worn shoes. The man who wore said shoes brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen into his face. He stared out into the woods, eyes following a gorgeous path until it disappeared.

"Hope you don't plan on goin' out there, " An older resident said. They were at the edge of a small cabin town. Some houses we're newer than others but that didn't seem to bother anyone. The houses were decently spaced and it was pretty active for being where most elders come to retire.

The man shrugged at the other's comment and adjusted the large hiking bag on his shoulders. "You shouldn't. Most don't make it back." The other male rolled his eyes and looked back to the elder. "I'm well aware of what lurks out there." He turned away from the other and set out on the path.

The path almost instantly secluded anyone who walked it from the chaotic world around it. He examined the terrain and all it had to offer, collecting some things along the way. His side bag was full of odd rocks and a book that had some pressed foliage, now had ones he hadn't collected before.

The walk was peaceful. Birds chirping as the wind rustled the leaves. The path was mostly covered but the leaves caused rays of light to shine through, giving him inspiration. He eventually found a spot to rest and decided to paint the path he was walking. Once his bag was set down, he pulled out a roll of canvas and laid it as flat as he could.

There were some paints and brushes in a holder in the middle of the roll and he smiled softly as he picked them up. He opened the bag and pulled out what he thought he needed as well as a small jar that held water to clean the brushes.

Close to 30 minutes had passed when he got a slight chill down his spine. He paused his painting and looked around. His eyes only saw the woods so he somewhat hesitantly went back to painting. After another 40-ish minutes passed, he finished his first of few paintings.

Luckily, the breeze dried his paints quicker than he had anticipated. He very carefully added a few layers of a sealant he had and let it dry. The same chill from earlier came around again but it was a bit more intense. He looked around as he finished cleaning and putting things away, noticing something in the distance.

Whatever he was looking at disappeared and he sighed as the now dry canvas was gently rolled and placed back onto the bag. He stood up, stretched, and continued his mostly peaceful walk, forgetting what he had seen earlier.

Some hours had passed, his periodic breaks allowing him to gain inspiration for future paintings. It was just after noon when he decided to make his own path. He pulled out a book and wrote directions so he could find his way back. In the process of creating his own path, he stumbled upon one of the most stunning places he'd ever seen.

It was a small, oasis-like area that had a magical feel to it. He stopped what he was doing and found the perfect spot to paint the scene in front of him.

While he painted, some birds had visited him and even a small snake had managed to befriend him and his paints. The snake had coiled gently around his wrist while he worked which made him smile.

The man had sat and painted the space for another 2 hours, finishing at around 2 o'clock. His (e/c) eyes looked up to the sky and he sighed, sealing his now finished work before packing everything away.

The snake was still on his wrist, not even bothering to leave so he just dealt with it. He continued on his own path for another hour. It was still fairly bright when he found himself at the entrance of a cave.

The small snake uncoiled itself and slid into a pocket on his cloak. The cave went deeper but he was cool with not going into it since he was going to leave soon anyway.

He stayed at the entrance and found a nice area to sit and relax, maybe get another painting done of what the cave looked like. It was gorgeous after all, nature framed the entrance perfectly, leaving some vines to hang down, moss covers rocks and small fungi scattered every so often.

He decided on just relaxing as he set his stuff down and leaned against a wall.

Soon enough, he had dozed off into his dreamland.

------

I ssswear I'll kill that woman...

Ssshe won't leave me alone...

The large, gorgeous albino Naga slithered through the leaves, carefully making his way to his home. He had noticed some newer prints, clearly from something with two legs, but he didn't pay too much mind to them.

He reached the cave and sighed as he entered. Bright blue eyes scanned the area and his heart sank to his stomach when he saw a (tall/short/avg) man with (h/l) (h/c) hair leaning against the wall.

Pleassse dear godsss tell me he iss alive...

He quickly made his way to the motionless body, not noticing said body's items not too far away.

If ssshe killed another human to try to pleasse me... I ssswear...

As he was lost in thought, the other stirred thanks to his intense staring and slightly heavy breathing. The human yawned and stretched his back slightly as he looked up to the Naga with a slightly annoyed expression.

"Is there something you need?"

The Naga jumped slightly and stared down at him with shock but also joy, happy he wasn't dead.

"I apologize... I wasss afraid you had passsed..."

The Naga paused for a moment while the other rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Wait... You aren't... Afraid of me?"

The (h/c) shook his head and looked up to him again. "If you don't mind, I would like to take my leave." He said placing his hands on the ground in preparation to stand. The Naga stood speechless, staring at the smaller human sitting in front of him.

"Can you move please?"

With a nod and small apology, the Naga moved away from the male who carefully stood and stretched his limbs.

The white and yellow snake watched as the other took out a small pocket watch, that the small snake from earlier was now holding on to, and checked the time. "When the hell did I get so late..." The man mumbled to himself. The time read 8:11 and judging by the lack of light it was night time. He slipped the watch and snake back onto his pocket.

"Well, I better get going." He said grabbing his bag and putting over his shoulder. The Naga still stood, watching as the male walked to the mouth of the cave.

"W-wait!"

He looked back to see that the other had slithered closer and held a worried look on his face. "P-please don't leave! Y-you can't!"

"Oh yeah, and whys that?"

"I would rather not find sssuch a beautiful man ssslaughtered on my cave-step in the morning..."

Said beautiful man turned to look at him, slightly shocked at the statement.

"Pleassse just ssstay with me till the morning and I'll essscort you back to the village..." He looked frantic and genuinely seemed like he cared.

With a sigh, the other looked to the pleading blue eyes and said, "I don't bunk with strangers. I'll be fine." He turned and walked out of the cave, leaving the Naga shocked and frozen.

"Wait! I'm ssserious! Pleassse!" He followed after the human and froze once again when he saw him pinned by the she-devil herself. His bag had been tossed to the side, most of the contents falling out. She had him wrapped in her tail and smiled as he struggled to get free.

His shy demeanor had dissipated rather quickly. The small snake had gotten out of the other's pocket and hid in the nearly empty bag.

He suddenly lunged towards the woman he hated so much. She clearly hadn't noticed him before then and threw the human off to the side, his body slamming into a tree. The two of them fought as the one tossed aside slowly passed out, struggling to stay awake.

------

Soft hands gently rubbed his back as he awoke again. His (e/c) eyes looked around the best the could but they didn't see much other than a wall. His whole body was sore but those hands were working wonders. The room was warm and whatever he was laying on was extremely comfortable. He closed his eyes and let out a pleased groan.

The hands froze and pulled away quickly, making him turn his head the other way. A set of bright blue eyes were staring with surprise that the male was awake. "H-hello there..." The human smirked and slowly blinked, "Hey sexy, why'd ya stop?"

The blonde blushed and looked away. "I dessspissse that remedy ssso much..." He mumbled as his hands carefully went back to massaging. "Mmm... I'm soooo tired... Will you cuddle with me?"

"No... Just go back to sssleep human..."

"Mm... Oh-kay."

------

A soft warm light lit the room, if you could really call it a room. A rather noisy yawn resonated from a still fairly sore male. He carefully stretched and sat up, almost instantly laying back down.

"Fuuck me..."

His hand fell from what he now knows as a large hammock. Soft locks brushed against his fingers and without thinking he gently combed them, enjoying the soft and cool feeling on his slightly rough hands. The owner of said locks leaned into the hand, clearly not realizing whose hand it was.

The two enjoyed each other for a moment before the blonde realized the situation. He pulled away and sat up, looking at the still sleepy human in his bed. "Are you feeling better? Do you need anything?" He asked leaning in slightly.

"Something to drink, and maybe a name?" The Naga nodded and got a cup of water first. He sat up in the hammock carefully and crossed his legs slightly. Looking around, the room was neat yet cluttered with various items. He spot his stuff and cautiously, yet somewhat reluctantly, left the hammock to inspect them.

He sat on the large plush rug and rummaged through his own things, glad to see that everything he had was still there. Other than his canvas. He panicked slightly and looked around, immediately regretting the sudden movement.

Laying back, he closed his eyes and sighed. Mr. Naga came back and looked at the other on the ground. He hovered over him slightly till he opened his eyes. "Here, it'sss fresh ssspring water."

"Thank you." He said carefully sitting up and drinking what he was given.

"My name is Sssyerca." The other nodded. "(Y/n). Do you happen to know where my canvas is at Sssyerca?" He asked mimicking the way the other said it. Syerca blushed and nodded, moving over to a small table to grab it. (Y/n) stood up carefully from the floor and followed him to said table.

There was a large couch, clearly made for the naga, that (Y/n) sat on. Syerca sat next to him, and (Y/n) leaned on him, closing his eyes as he took in the snakes, surprising, warmth. Said snake blushed and looked down to the (h/c). He gently took the cup from (Y/n)'s hand and set it on the table.

"I hope you don't mind that I may have looked at your paintingsss..." (Y/n) shrugged and looked up to Syerca, one eye pressed against his side. "Are they ok? Physically?"

"Ah, yesss! They're fine. And quite beautiful if I might sssay..." Syerca said with a soft tone. (Y/n) smiled and looked down to the rolled canvas. He stood up and Syerca watched as he stood on the opposite side of the table. "Lie on the couch and get comfortable. Let me grab something real quick." He said walking over to his bag and rummaging around for a moment.

Syerca hesitantly did as the painter asked and made himself comfortable on the couch. (Y/n) found all of the supplies he needed and set them on the floor next to the table before sitting on his knees. "May I make a request?" He asked looking up to Syerca. The Naga nodded as he watched (Y/n) unroll the canvas. "Look cute and don't move till I say you can." Syerca blushed and adjusted slightly so that he was looking at the other.

(Y/n) started to put blobs of color onto the canvas. Syerca watched as the soft yellows and whites turned into his tail, then tans to his chest, and so on till it had gotten to his head, his face still not painted.

It had been close to 2 hours by that point but neither had seemed to notice the time go by due to being entranced by the painting. "Syerca. Could you look at me? Don't look at the painting." (Y/n) said, starting at the other's eyes. He blushed softly and looked into (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes.

Syerca took this opportunity to examine the human closely. His (e/c) eyes we're soft yet focused, while his (h/style) (h/c) hair moved slightly with his gentle head movements. He blushed and bit his lip slightly as he looked at his lips. They were a soft pink color and we're parted slightly as he worked, the occasional blep happening due to his focus.

Many minutes had passed before (Y/n) looked up and said. "Alright. You can move again." Syerca snapped out of his trance and looked down to the canvas. (Y/n) cleaned up as Syerca turned the canvas to look at properly. His eyes shined as he looked at it closer. "The amount of detail iss amazing..." (Y/n) looked up and smiled. "You can have it if you want it. I'll put it on a frame and sign it if you do." He said with a small laugh.

Syerca looked up as his eyes widened slightly. "Really? That would be lovely..." (Y/n) nodded and said, "I'll have to head back to my home though. If you'd be willing to come with me I could do it today." He went to get his pocket watch to check the time when he heard Syerca get off the couch. (Y/n) though nothing of it but tensed when he was hugged from behind.

He turned his head slightly to look at Syerca who buried his face into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck. "Uh... What are you doing that for?" The other stayed silent for a moment before responding. "I know thisss is extremely sssudden... But... Would you be willing to become my mate?"

"... What would be in it for me?" (Y/n) asked looking to Syerca who pulled away. "Protection from any other Naga, free-range of my territory... It will finally let me rid thisss world of that vile woman that attacked you..." He said mumbling the last part. His eyes looked to (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes and the other said,

"So you wanna be my boyfriend?"

Syerca was quiet before he broke out in laughter, his eyes closing as he did. "Yesss... I-if that'sss what humansss call... Call matesss." (Y/n) looked up and shrugged. "Ok. I'm single anyway." Syerca smiled and hugged him, gently pressing their foreheads together. "Would it be ok for me to mark you?" He asked quietly, looking into (Y/n)'s eyes.

"I-I don't know what that entails but um... Sure..." (Y/n) gently wrapped his arms around Syerca's bare torso. He gently rubbed the others back. It was smooth but the occasional line like bump came up, telling there was a scar there. Syerca leaned down to (Y/n)'s neck and placed soft kisses under his jaw. (Y/n) gasped and shivered, slightly tightening his grip on the male, not expecting what he did.

Syerca continued to kiss before mumbling, "Sssorry... But thisss might hurt..." (Y/n) was about to speak up but Syerca bit down on his neck, his canines sinking in. (Y/n) gasped and let out a small moan of pain as he hugged him. Syerca pulled away slightly and licked the spot where he bit. It left a tingling sensation behind and (Y/n) felt a bit weak after.

"Are you ok..? The mark will tell that your claimed... My ssscent will remain and only be picked up by other naga..." He gently brushed (Y/n)'s hair back. "I wish you told me that's what you were going to do..." Syerca looked away and sighed, "I didn't think you would allow me if I told you."

(Y/n) looked up to him and moved his hands from the others back to his cheeks. He gently rubbed them with his thumbs. Syerca smiled and (Y/n) smiled too. His thumbs gently rubbed over Syerca's lips, they were thin but still nice. Syerca smiled more and stuck his tongue out, showing it's slit. "I don't know what's in that... Saliva of yours but it made me feel pretty good."

Syerca moved (Y/n)'s hands from his face and interlocked their fingers. "Also what's with you and making me feel good?" He asked, resting his face on Syercas chest. "I apologize... But... Thank you for letting me... M-mark you." (Y/n) pulled away and looked up to the others eyes. "Let's get to know each other before we call it official though." Syerca nodded and rested his forehead against (Y/n)'s.

"I'll take you back to your village a little later. For now, let'sss get to know each other... Like you sssuggested..."

----

3066

Definitely not my fav but hey

#mxm #monster x male reader #male monster x reader #monster male x male reader #oneshot #x male reader

287 notes · View notes

iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

Family Ties // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: hey lovie!! i wanna start by saying i adore your writing for bridgerton and harry potter and i always find myself coming back to it,, if you’re up for it, would you mind writing a benedict imagine? i was thinking something sweet and domestic?? like maybe him and the reader have kids and they’re going to visit the rest of the family? take it however you want!! <3 - @ddaeng-danvers

A/N: Thank you so much!! I truly hope you like this. This is the first thing I've written in close to a month now and I love how happy it is. There’s love, and family, and fluff. I am so happy with it. This features characters seen in the prequel books ‘The Rokesby’s’ - I finished reading book 2 today and I think I'm going to own all of Quinn’s books by the time we reach summer.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: children, marriage, fluff, female reader, she/her pronouns, bridgertons being bridgertons, family fluff, love, romance, kissing, cute, mentions of pregnancy. SPOILERS FOR THE PREQUEL SERIES BUT I CANT BE SORRY, I LOVE GEORGE TOO MUCH.

Word count: 3.3k

Giggles and gasps lighten the morning air as you take those first steps outside. The grass is still wet with morning dew and it dampens the hem of your dress, but you cannot bring yourself to care as the laughter of your children surrounds you.

“You can’t catch me!” Your daughter declares, laughing loudly as her steps quicken on the slick grass.

A quiet smile crosses your face as you watch the scene unfold in front of you.

Your daughter, Violet, continues to laugh wildly as Benedict grabs her from behind, lifting her onto his shoulders. She settles there quickly; having spent a lot of time on Benedict’s shoulders when her little legs wore themselves out from running and exploring.

“My love,” Benedict greets, smiling widely at you, “Did you sleep well?”

“I did until I realised I was alone.”

Benedict casts his eyes upwards, gesturing to the four year old currently busying herself with trying to tidy the permanently messy locks of her father. “Someone,” Benedict emphasises with another glance upwards, “Woke up too early and I didn’t want to wake you.”

Your body warms at the obvious love in Benedict’s voice – for you, for his daughter. Close to a decade being married and he has every capacity to reduce you to a lovestruck fool. It’s perfect, really.

Chuckling, you gaze lovingly at your daughter. “Did you wake your father up?”

She nods; not an ounce of apology on her small face as she continues to mess up Benedict’s hair. “I couldn’t sleep anymore,” she defends, “I’m excited to see Grandma Violet.”

“I’m sure she’s excited to see you too,” Benedict comments, reaching for his pocket watch to check the time. “We’ll have to be setting off soon. Are we all packed?”

You nod, meeting the loving eyes of your husband. “The footmen have everything covered. Where is John?”

Benedict gestures to the overgrowth behind him. “He joined us when Violet wouldn’t keep quiet. He shouldn’t be too far behind.”

“I’ll go in search. Get Violet ready for me?”

Benedict nods, smiling down at you before dropping the first kiss of many to your lips. You watch the pair leave; Violet chattering away about the birds singing in the trees before heading off in search for your eldest child.

“John Edmund Bridgerton,” you call out, voice loud in the quiet garden, “Where have you gotten to?”

“I’m over here,” John calls; his dark brown curls popping up between the rose bushes.

“Shall we head inside? We need to get ready to make the journey to London.”

John smiles, making his way to your side. “You look more like your father every day,” You comment absentmindedly, running a hand through your son’s hair.

John flushes at the compliment; his father was an exceptionally strong man as well as incredibly talented in whatever he pursues. “Thank you,” John replies, reaching for your hand to begin the walk back to your home.

---------

Bridgerton House had always grown violet hyacinths; they perfumed the air, making every inhale sweeter than the last. The door to the Bridgerton London home is opened before you get chance to place your feet on the ground after stepping down from the carriage.

Benedict steadies you as you straighten your skirts whilst trying to keep an eye on your children, making sure they hadn’t fallen out of the carriage. The laughter of your children floating on air has the tightness in your chest relaxing.

You take a moment to stand beside your husband, enjoying the feel of his hands on your waist. It had been so long since a moment alone had been found between the two of you; one of you running after Violet before she scared off another governess. Her stubbornness was to be admired, but it made it hard to teach her the basics in terms of literacy.

“Are you alright?” Benedict asks, noticing your hesitancy.

You smile widely at the love of your life. “I’m fine, my love. I just wanted to be close to you.”

Benedict’s face softens at your confession; he would be the first to admit that he found himself missing you even when he was sat next to you. There were no problems in your marriage but being so busy meant that there was little time for the two of you.

Benedict takes your hand; dropping a kiss to the back of it before turning it over and placing a lingering kiss to your wrist, over your pulse point. You gasp at the intimacy of it, your toes curling at the promise in his eyes.

“Mama!” Violet cries, taking your hand and dragging you through the house in the direction of the portrait gallery with all her might.

You chuckle, turning to Benedict with a helpless look on your face. He holds his hands up, letting you take the lead with your headstrong daughter. “I shall announce our arrival,” Benedict laughs, blue eyes focused on the way his daughter’s slippers slip and slide on the marble tiles of the entrance hall. “John,” He calls, “Would you like to join me?”

Imperceptibly, John takes a step in your direction. An incredibly smart but shy boy from birth, you sometimes worried over his place in the loud, boisterous family of the Bridgertons. “If it’s okay, I want to see where mother and Violet are going.”

“Of course,” Benedict smiles, ruffling John’s hair, knowing how he needed to get used to a new environment before feeling comfortable.

Benedict presses a kiss to your mouth and then to your cheek before taking the steps two at a time to hurry to the drawing room where he can greet his mother and siblings before answering their questions about your whereabouts.

Letting yourself be led through the ornate home of Violet Bridgerton, you can’t help but smile at the determinedness of your daughter. Her little feet stomping away on the marble tiles as she pulls you to the portrait gallery – her favourite place in the whole house bar her grandmother’s knee.

The gallery hasn’t had a new addition to its walls in years; the last painting being of Anthony and Kate on their fifth anniversary. Violet saw it as fitting that their London home had an up to date portrait of Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton. Anthony had argued, but one look from his mother had him falling silent – knowing a losing battle when he sees one.

Generations of Bridgertons line the walls; their famous blue eyes watching the latest generation walk the halls of their once home. John remains silent by your side as he meets the gaze of the men of which his name is descended; if he feels their pressure at such a young age, he doesn’t say.

One painting catches your eye. A young woman and her husband; his hand is resting on her shoulder as she remains seated. They both stare out of the painting; their eyes filled with the stories of generations passed but utterly silent on the matter.

“Who is this?” Violet asks, effectively distracted by the bright colours of the painting.

“That’s your Great Aunt Billie and her husband,” You comment absently, mind occupied with Billie Bridgerton’s eyes.

“Have we met her?” John asks, hand reaching for yours.

“You have, John. She and the Rokesby clan came to your christening. I doubt you remember, you were so young, my darling.”

John flushes at your use of his childhood pet name. Not even ten years old and he was already growing too old for such things, but you didn’t care – he would always be your darling, your first born, the very boy that made you a mother.

“Where are they now?”

“I suppose they are still at Crake House in Kent. We should have to pay them a visit the next time we visit your Uncle Anthony.”

“Can we?” Violet asks, her Bridgerton blue eyes wide with promise and excitement.

“If your father allows it, I see no problem with it.”

The children seem placated at that. With their hands in yours, you make your way to the drawing room where the rest of the family have gathered. Benedict spies you immediately despite being deep in conversation with Colin and Hyacinth; his body and soul finetuned to your presence – feeling uplifted when you’re beside him, feeling as if he was missing a vital part of himself in your absence.

“Grandma Violet!” Your youngest child cries, launching herself for the skirts of the Bridgerton matriarch. Her small arms barely make their way around the legs of the elderly woman who cannot contain her amused giggle at the exploits of her granddaughter. Instead, she gathers young Violet in her arms, placing her on her knee to get a better look at her.

“You have grown,” The matriarch murmurs, brushing back the dark brown hair of her granddaughter.

“John!” Anthony calls, drawing the attention of his nephew. Releasing your hand, John crosses the room to talk to his beloved uncle; the topic of conversation, you know not but they both look incredibly animated and devoted to the matter.

“Where were you?” A low voice sounds in your ears, making you jump. The voice turns amused as a low chortle escapes your husband’s mouth. “I’m sorry, my love,” he offers in apology as an arm wraps itself around your waist, tugging you closer to him.

“If you must know, we were in the portrait gallery.”

“What drew you there?”

“Your daughter,” You comment, tone amused.

Benedict moves to inquire further but is cut off but the gong signalling that dinner has been served. At once, the family moves as one – all ravenous and desperate to begin their meal.

“(Y/N)!” Colin calls out, catching up to you on the way to the dining room.

“Colin,” You greet fondly, “How is married life?”

“Wonderful,” Colin sighs, “Penelope is… Penelope is wonderful.”

You laugh, elbowing the third eldest Bridgerton. “Surely, you remember the early days of your marriage,” Colin states, “The honeymoon period.”

“It doesn’t leave you,” You reply, catching sight of the love of your life just ahead of you. His head is bent as he reaches for the hand of your daughter; her whole hand wrapped around one of his fingers. It sends your heart into a tizzy as you inhale sharply; the love you feel for Benedict Bridgerton could rival the love of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, of the sonnets written by William Shakespeare himself.

“No,” Colin comments, glancing between you and Benedict, “I don’t suppose it does.”

------------

Dinner with a large Bridgerton crowd was never a quiet feat; conversations flowed in every direction. Societal propriety non-existent as everyone spoke over each other; happy to have the company of their siblings, nieces and nephews, sons and daughters.

“Anthony,” You begin, reaching for your glass as you draw the attention of the head of the family, “When would you next be at Aubrey Hall?”

“Kate, the children, and I travel back in two days. Why?”

“We were in the portrait gallery earlier. Violet was rather taken with a portrait of Billie Bridgerton and her husband, George. If Benedict has no qualms, could we travel with you? I think Violet would like to meet them.”

Anthony beams; rather liking the idea of bringing the Rokesby’s back into their lives once more. “I must admit that I haven’t travelled to Crake House in a long time. What a terrible nephew I must seem.”

Violet frowns, picking at the food on her plate. “What a terrible sister-in-law, I must be. It must be close to a year, probably longer since I’ve seen Billie and George. Longer since I’ve seen Edward and Cecilia.”

“That does it,” Anthony declares, “We shall all travel to Aubrey Hall before dropping in on Crake House.”

Meeting Benedict’s eyes across the table you smile at the clear affection written on his face. “You have no objections do you, my love?”

He shakes his head. “Never, my love.”

Turning your attention to Anthony, you nod your affirmation. “Should we write in advance of leaving here?”

Anthony wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I’ll send a missive with the morning messenger; if I tip generously then there shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” Violet adds absently, “I just can’t believe I’ve left it this long. I’m so rarely in Kent and they never journey to London.”

Colin reaches to his right, placing his hand on top of his mother’s. “They will more than understand. Aunt Billie was father’s sister after all. I think even Aunt Billie finds it hard to return to Aubrey Hall.”

“Then it’s decided,” Benedict smiles, “We shall journey to Aubrey Hall and get settled there before descending on Crake House.”

“Do you think Gregory would like to join us?” You ask, thinking of your youngest brother-in-law.

“He’s in his final term at Oxford,” Colin replies, “He’s sitting all number of exams right now, I don’t think he’ll have the time.”

“A shame,” Anthony comments, thinking of his youngest brother and the stress he must be under, “But I’m sure he can complete the journey in the summer.”

“He always was Aunt Billie’s favourite,” Benedict states darkly. You raise your eyebrows at your husband in question. “Gregory struggled with the pronunciation of some plants when he was a child; Aunt Billie thought it was adorable,” He explains, sounding far off as if trapped in a memory of his youth.

Smiling widely at your husband’s tone, you coo, “I’m sure Violet will be her new favourite when we explain what inspired our visit.”

Dismissing all social expectations, Benedict rounds the table, reaching for your hand, pressing a long kiss to the back of it before stating loudly. “You, my love, are a genius.”

“It has been said before,” You laugh, watching your husband return to his seat with promises of the night alight in his eyes. His eyes remain bright as he gazes at you over the rim of his wine glass, no longer paying attention to the conversation pertaining to the history of the Bridgertons and Rokesbys. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you as he thinks of all the good you have brought to his life – loving him, marrying him, bearing his children. His love for you is endless, and he’ll spend the rest of his life proving that to you.

--------

Crake House was just as grand as Aubrey Hall. The Rokesby’s gaining the favour of the monarch in the seventeenth century leading to an earldom and a rather large estate that bordered on the Bridgerton’s at Aubrey Hall. From then, the two families had been intertwined – as close as two families could get.

“It’s very big,” John comments quietly to Benedict as they leave the carriage.

“Don’t let that intimidate you, John,” Benedict says, “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

As Benedict finishes his sentence, the door to Crake House is pulled open by a strong hand. Deep blue skirts are the first thing you see, and you know that Billie Rokesby nee Bridgerton has arrived.

“Bridgertons!” A feminine voice cries, “I have Bridgertons on my doorstep once more!”

“Billie,” Violet sighs, a fond smile on her face as if the sound of her sister-in-law’s voice has transported her back to times long thought of as memories.

“Anthony Bridgerton,” Billie admonishes as she hurries down the stairs, her elderly frame not a hindrance to her speed whatsoever. “How long have you taken residence in Aubrey Hall? How long has it been since you came to see me?”

“Aunt Billie,” Anthony murmurs, “I don’t suppose you could ever forgive me.”

Billie Rokesby nee Bridgerton eyes her nephew; looking him up and down before taking his face in her strong hands. “Are you well, my boy?”

For a moment, tears shine in Anthony’s eyes as he is reminded of his departed father. He nods wordlessly; trying to get a grip on the feelings rushing through him at the love that emanates from Billie. “I’m well, Aunt Billie.”

Billie nods, stepping back, clearly happy at the information offered by Anthony. She casts her shrewd gaze over her brother’s family; happiness alight in her eyes as she takes sight of your daughter, hiding behind your skirts.

“Who do we have here?” She asks, stepping closer to Benedict and yourself.

“You met John when he was just a babe in arms, but Violet is our youngest,” Benedict introduces, an arm wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Violet?” Billie gasps, dipping at the waist, “Violet Bridgerton, it is an honour to meet you.”

Violet giggles from where she has her face hidden in your legs. You reach down, tapping her on the shoulder. “Come now, sweetheart. Let’s say hello.”

Violet peeks her face out of your skirts, her blue eyes meeting the kind, aged ones of Billie. Violet curtsies, remembering her manners despite her age. “I saw your painting at Grandma’s house.”

“Which one?” Billie asks gently, eyes flickering to the Bridgerton matriarch. “Please tell me it wasn’t the one that Edmund commissioned as an anniversary gift for George and myself.”

Violet Bridgerton covers her mouth to stem the laughter that threatens to bubble over. “The very same.”

Billie huffs, turning to you, “I was six months pregnant, and Edmund thought I would want nothing more than to sit for a whole day with nothing to keep me company.”

“I think you look wonderful,” Your daughter compliments, tripping up on her pronunciation of ‘wonderful’.

Billie’s eyes shine with happiness, “Thank you, my dear.”

“I think our guests might like some tea,” An exasperated but fond voice calls from the doorway. Billie’s face softens at the sound of it; she turns to her husband, finding him watching her with a loving smile on his face.

“They aren’t guests, George. They are my family, and by marriage, your family.”

“All the same, I’m sure they would like something to drink and to rest a little.”

Billie pouts, knowing a losing fight when she saw one. You take in the sight of the pair; their hair had greyed over time, their face becoming wrinkled but their love – it was so palpable, it could be felt in every aspect of their conversation and every expression they sent each other.

Billie and George manage to wrangle the whole Bridgerton clan into their drawing room with promises of food, tea and stories of their mother’s youth. Violet pales at such a promise but Billie’s hand on her arm steadies her.

Your children, John and Violet, join their many cousins on the carpet. They all sit cross legged, eyes intently focused on the elderly couple sitting on the pale green couch. Billie gestures animatedly as she begins one of her many adventurous stories. George leans further back into the cushions, happy to let his wife regale his extended family with the very story of how they had fallen in love. A story told many times, but a story he would never tire of hearing, especially not from his beloved wife’s lips.

You watch all of this from where you sit, perched on the window seat. You smile at the sight of Anthony, Colin and Hyacinth watching Billie with nothing short of wonder written on their faces as they are reminded of the aunt that had explained the way of the land before they had truly understood what it meant to be part of a family with such a large responsibility.

Benedict joins you on the window seat, crossing his legs at the ankles as his heart sings at the sound of his children’s laughter. Silently, he reaches over to take your hand in his. He rests your tangled hands on his thigh; needing you close for a reason he cannot seem to find the words to explain.

“I love you,” You whisper, needing him to hear the words that have begged to be released since you had rolled up to Crake House.

“I love you too,” Benedict responds, his hand tightening around yours.

*********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #Benedict bridgerton imagines #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #Bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic

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dccomicsimagines · 3 years

Text

Stalker - Terry McGinnis x Reader

Trigger Warning - Stalker Behavior, Darker Themes

Requested by Anon - Can I request one where Terry finds out his s/o has a stalker?

***

You shivered, standing outside of school. It was a cool spring day. You wished you had worn your jacket, but the sun shining through your bedroom window this morning made you too optimistic about the weather.

“Come on, Ter. Where are you?” you whispered, jumping up and down to warm up a little. The school bell rang. You sighed. “Late again.” You turned around to enter when a warm jacket suddenly wrapped around your shoulders.

“I’m not late. Just almost late.” Terry chuckled in your ear. He kissed your cheek before moving ahead to open the door for you.

“For once.” You winked at him, sliding your arms into his jacket. “Come on, we’re going to be late for Literature.”

Terry groaned, running a hand through his hair. “What’s the reading we had to do for today?”

“The Yellow Wallpaper.” You sneaked a sniff of his jacket, enjoying his scent. Terry rubbed his eyes and missed it. “I’ll catch you up. We’re just supposed to be in discussion groups.” The two of you strolled down the hall, tempting fate as the final bell was about to ring.

“Lucky I have you, babe. I think I’d have to drop out by now if I didn’t.” Terry wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him, still snug in his jacket.

“I doubt that. You’d just actually have to do your homework.” You caught his lips in a quick kiss before you both entered the classroom just as the bell rang.

***

You walked alone to the elementary school to pick up your younger siblings and Terry’s little brother, Matt. Terry’s mom and your parents paid you the big creds to babysit them every day after school. It was actually how you met Terry in the first place.

Terry would usually try to walk with you until you met up with the kids, but today Mr. Wayne needed him earlier than normal. You pulled his jacket closer, only realizing now that you still had it. Oops. You shrugged, smiling to yourself when you got a whiff of Terry from the jacket.

As you neared the elementary school, a shiver ran up your spine when you heard footsteps behind you. “Excuse me,” someone said from behind you. You turned, holding your bag tighter.

It was an older man, maybe mid-forties. He ran up to you. His hair was oily and his face was breaking out in hives. “Can I help you?” you asked. Something felt off about him. You took an involuntary step back when he stopped before you.

“You dropped this.” He held out keychain with a batman symbol on it.

“Oh thank you.” You gasped, holding out your hand. He dropped it into your palm after a pause. “I can’t believe I lost it. It must have broke.”

He nodded, smiling as he stared at you. “You’re welcome.”

You waited for him to leave, but he didn’t move. Just staring. Your stomach twisted, nerves on end. “Well, I better get going. Thanks again.” You turned and hurried away with your hand clenched around the keychain. Terry had given it to you. You usually had it on your bag. Once you turned the corner and were in front of the elementary school with a crowd of people, you opened your hand to check the keychain.

Your blood ran cold when you saw it wasn’t broken. How would it have fallen off if it didn’t break? You checked your bag, heart pounding when you saw your keychain was still attached. Your thumb ran across the one in your hand, noting it didn’t have the scratches yours had.

“Creepy.” You glanced over your shoulder, relieved that the man wasn’t in sight. Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe it wasn’t as creepy as you were thinking? You swallowed hard and tossed the keychain into the nearby garbage can.

Matt and your siblings ran up to you, chattering away. You gathered them up and led them toward home. However, the entire way, you felt you were being watched.

***

“What’s wrong?” Terry frowned at you, noting how you clung to his arm as the two of you slowly stepped onto the tram.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You let go of his arm, crossing your arms tightly. Terry led you over to a seat.

Terry sighed. He rolled his eyes. “You been like this all week. (Y/N), what’s wrong?” He sat down beside you. You scooted closer to him.

You glanced around nervously. “I’m fine, Ter. I just want to get home.”

“Okay.” Terry frowned and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I just thought you wanted to spend time with me.”

“I do.” You smiled at him. It wasn’t a real smile. Terry kissed your temple. “I’m not feeling all that great today. We can hang out at my house. My siblings are at my grandparents this weekend anyway.”

“That would be great.” Terry felt you relax, closing your eyes as you laid your head against his shoulder. He pushed his worries aside. You probably weren’t feeling well like you said. It was probably nothing. He relaxed himself, keeping you close just in case.

***

You stared at the keychain lying on your doorstep. Your blood ran cold with terror. It was the same batman keychain, brand new, matching the one on your bag. Your siblings were a few feet behind you as you had rushed ahead to quickly get into your house where you were safe. Clearly, it wasn’t safe anymore.

“Wow, a batman keychain,” Matt said, moving around you to pick it up.

“Hey (Y/N), it matches yours,” your sibling said, giggling.

“Terry must have left it.” Matt made a face. “Gross.”

“Yeah, he must have.” You painted a fake smile on your face and took the keychain from Matt. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll let you have whatever you want for a snack.”

The kids cheered and rushed inside once you unlocked the door. You hurried after and slammed the door shut, clicking the lock. The feeling of uneasiness didn’t leave you.

***

“Terrance!” Bruce’s voice echoed through Terry’s ears. He jerked the batmobile into a climb to avoid crashing straight into a building.

“Okay, okay. We’re fine.” Terry chuckled nervously, shaking his head.

“If you crash it, you buy it.” Bruce growled. “Pay attention!”

Terry cleared his throat, turning to fly the batmobile for another lap of the city. He flew over your house and scanned the place. Everything was fine. However, the light in your room was still on. Terry glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. “Bruce, I’m going to make a quick stop.”

“This is no time for social calls.” Bruce’s voice sharpened.

“How about you keep an ear on the police scanner like you always do and let me know if I need to go anywhere?” Terry smirked when Bruce huffed and clicked off. “Got ya.” He flew out of the batmobile and glided toward your house. Terry balanced himself on the sill of your window.

You were in bed with the covers pulled over your head. Terry opened your window silently and stepped inside. “(Y/N).” You sat up suddenly and screamed at the sight of him. Terry’s eyes widened. He pulled off his mask. “Honey, it’s me. Hush.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, gasping for breath. The blood drained out of your face. Terry swore, shutting the window behind him and ducking into the closet as your family tore into the room.

It took several long minutes for your family to leave. Terry waited, hoping Bruce didn’t catch how badly he scared you. He leaned against the wall of your closet. His mask twisted in his fist.

The closet door opened a few minutes after the room went quiet. “I’m sorry.” You hugged him, burying your face into his chest. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Terry kissed the top of your head. “I saw your light was on, so I’d thought I would stop by.”

You jerked away from him, blood draining out of your face. “No, no, no,” you whispered, running to the window and quickly shutting the curtains.

Terry rushed to your side. “Babe, what’s wrong?” He laid a hand on your shoulder. “Why are you so scared?”

You looked at him, tears filling your eyes. Terry felt like he got punched in the gut. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please just hold me.” You hugged him so tight, he thought he might bruise.

“Okay, okay.” Terry hugged you back. He gently rocked you, still confused and concerned. Part of him wanted to demand you to explain, but seeing how upset you were, he couldn’t do it. So he let it go and held you until you fell asleep.

Terry gently tucked you into bed and turned off your light. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before slipping out the window, making sure to shut it securely behind him. “Bruce, you there?”

“Are you ready to get back to work?” Bruce’s tone edged toward scolding. Terry rolled his eyes.

“I am.” He wanted to talk about your strange behavior, but he stopped himself. Bruce doesn’t know anything about relationships anyway. He’d be no help. Terry rocketed into the sky to catch the batmobile as it went by on autopilot.

***

“Terry!” Max ran through the hall, bumping people out of the way to reach him. Terry turned to look at her, alarmed. “Come quick!”

“Where?” Terry grunted when Max grabbed his sore arm and tugged him down the hall. Max was leading him toward the school’s office. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s (Y/N). We were outside for gym class and they collapsed.” Max panted. It was only at that moment that Terry realized Max was in her gym clothes. Bruce was right, his detective skills really did need work.

His blood ran cold. “Collapsed? Are they okay?!” Max led him into the nurse’s office. Terry ran ahead and opened a curtain to find you shaking, gasping for breath as you curled up into a ball on the bed. The school nurse seemed lost. “(Y/N), sweetheart, I’m here.” Terry sank down beside the bed, wrapping his arms around you.

You looked at him, pupils dilated, eyes wide. “I...I...can...can’t breathe.” Tears ran down your cheeks.

“(Y/N), you need to calm down. Breathe with me.” He took a slow deep breath, looking you in the eye as he rubbed your back. You struggled at first, but eventually you slowed your breathing down with his. Terry could feel your heart calming down.

The school nurse said something about getting you some water and a snack, leaving you, Terry, and Max alone. “I’m sorry,” you said, leaning over to bury your face into Terry’s shoulder.

Terry shared a look with Max. “Okay, (Y/N). Something is clearly wrong. You got to tell us and don’t say it’s nothing,” Max began, sitting on foot of the bed. You pulled away from Terry, sniffling and grabbing a tissue from the box nearby. Terry took your hand, squeezing it gently.

“Okay, alright.” You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath. “I think I have a stalker.”

Terry’s stomach dropped as ice cold horror washed over him. “What?!” You flinched at his tone. Max glared at him, poking him.

“Calm down, Ter. Let (Y/N) explain.” Max turned back to you. “Why do you think you have a stalker?”

The nurse came back with water and a packet of crackers. She smiled when she saw you were calm. “Eat and drink, we’ll see how you feel. Terry and Max, you can stay with (Y/N). I’ll let your teachers know.” You took a sip of water once the nurse left again.

“Slag it. (Y/N), tell us what happened.” Terry’s hands shook. You looked at him, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. It started a month ago...”

“A month? This has been going on for a month?!” Terry got to his feet. The terror going straight to his head.

“Terry, sit down and shut up.” Max punched his arm. Terry flinched before forcing himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

You blinked back tears. “I...It started when I was walking to the elementary school to pick up the kids. You weren’t with me, Ter. Mr. Wayne needed you that day. I felt like someone was watching me and then someone ran up behind me. It was an older man. He handed me a batman keychain like the one you gave me, Ter, and I thought it was mine. I thanked him, but he just stared at me.” You shivered. Terry wrapped his arm around you, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. “It creeped me out, so I left. It was then I realized that the keychain wasn’t mine. It was brand new and my keychain was still on my bag.”

Max and Terry tensed. “That is creepy,” Max whispered, reaching out to pat your hand.

“I threw it away, but I felt like I’ve been watched ever since.” You swallowed hard. Rogue tears slipped down your cheeks. Terry wiped them away with his thumb. “More keychains keep popping up wherever I go. There was even one on my front doorstep. I’m so scared all the time. That’s why I screamed when you visited me last night, Ter. I thought someone was breaking in to get me.” Your entire body trembled. “Even during gym class, there was one in my spot on the bench. That’s why I freaked out.”

“Why did you not tell me?” Terry soothed, pushing down his anger and terror. It wouldn’t help you.

“I didn’t want you to worry. Besides, I was hoping it was nothing, but it’s not. It can’t be.” You burst into tears again. Terry pulled you into his chest, sharing another look with Max.

“I’ll go see if I can find the keychain outside,” Max whispered to Terry. She slipped out of the room.

Terry sighed. “You’ll be fine, (Y/N). I’ll protect you. Whoever this is, they won’t get you.”

You grabbed at his jacket tightly. “Okay.” You sniffled. “Do you think they’ll let me go home? I just want to be home now, Ter.”

“I’ll go ask if I can take you home.” He pulled away from you. “Just relax.” You settled down on the bed, drinking the water the nurse brought you.

Terry clenched his hands into fists. His heart burned at the thought you were in danger and he didn’t even notice. Something bad could have happened because he didn’t get the answer to your strange behavior before. He swallowed hard, going to the school nurse to talk about being able to take you home. Hopefully, Max will find that keychain for him before he left. It was time for him to use his detective skills. You needed him to.

***

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, walking over to Terry as Terry stared at the batcomputer. Terry was running scans on the keychain Max had recovered from the school. He hated to leave you, but Max was with you, helping you watch your siblings and Matt while also keeping you safe.

“(Y/N) has a stalker.” Terry slammed his fist against the computer when the keychain came up with nothing. “Slag it!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. Ace barked at him in warning. Terry forced himself to relax, rubbing his chin to think. “What do we know?” Bruce’s tone became more serious. Terry looked up to find Bruce studying the results.

“This is a dead end. The guy didn’t leave anything on the keychain and (Y/N) didn’t keep the others.” Terry sighed. He ran a hand over his face. “There’s got to be a way to catch this dreg before he does something to (Y/N). (Y/N)’s already scared out of their mind.”

Bruce huffed. “You need to think less directly, McGinnis.” He gestured for Terry to get out of the chair. Terry stood up, sighing as Bruce took the seat and started working on the batcomputer. “Do you know where these keychains are sold?”

“I bought (Y/N)’s at the mall. There was a kiosk selling all these retro keychains.” Terry blinked. “Do you think we could hack into the mall’s security footage and see who was buying them?”

Bruce’s mouth twitched into almost a smirk. “Yes.”

“(Y/N) gave me this.” Terry pressed a button to bring up your description of the man you first encountered. “This is the man who gave them the keychain the first time.”

“Interesting.” Bruce hacked into the security and brought up footage of the kiosk. “What day did (Y/N) have the first encounter?”

Terry rubbed his chin. “About a month ago.” He shook his head. “I’m such a dreg for not noticing sooner. They are so scared.”

“Focus, Terrence.” Bruce frowned as the security footage fast forwarded until it stopped when it caught a person buying several batman keychains all at once. “It looks like we found our person.”

“Wait.” Terry leaned forward to study the person. “Oh my god, I know them. They go to our school, but (Y/N) was approached by an old man with the first keychain?”

Bruce hummed. “They probably paid the man to deliver it.” The computer popped up with the person’s school record. “Their name is Tay Diabolos. Seems like they have a shaky school attendance record and their grades are worse than yours.”

“Geez, thanks.” Terry frowned. “But (Y/N) hasn’t had any interaction with them as far as I know. They would have told me if they were being weird.”

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter.” Bruce brought up Tay’s address. “Go to their home, see what you can find. Don’t engage them. We’ll need to do this carefully.” Bruce glared at Terry. Terry just blushed. “I will run more tests on this keychain. My gut is telling me there is something we’re missing.”

“Mine too.” Terry patted Ace’s head before running off to get on his suit. Bruce watched him go. Ace barked, butting his head against Bruce’s leg.

“I know. He’s probably going to make a mess of it.” Bruce scratched Ace’s ear and turned to examine the keychain in ways Terry didn’t even think of.

***

Terry turned on his optical camouflage as he neared the run-down part of Neo-Gotham. He swallowed hard, pushing aside his fear for you. Max already called him to reassure him you were fine, but his stomach was twisted in knots.

He landed on the roof of an old house that must have been built around the time Bruce was young. A smirk pulled at Terry’s lips as he thought that it was probably over a hundred years old.

“Are you at the address yet?” Bruce’s voice suddenly filled his ear. Terry jumped, thankful Bruce wasn’t able to read minds.

“Just arrived.” Terry climbed down and opened the second story window. “I got nothing on my heat scans, so no one is home.”

Bruce grunted. “I told you not to rely on that too much. There are ways to cheat the scan.”

“It’s fine.” Terry looked around the empty room he entered. He went over the door and opened it. The hallway was dirty, covered in beer cans and stains. “Looks like a party house of some sort.”

“I found a micro tracer on the keychain. It’s cheap, only a range of two miles if even.” Bruce hummed. “He was attempting to track (Y/N). Are you sure (Y/N) never kept the keychains?”

“Yeah, they threw them away because it freaked them out. The only one still around is the one we have.” Terry’s eyes widened. “Wait, did you deactivate the tracer?”

Bruce snorted. “Of course.” Terry moved deeper into the house, following the light that peeked under one of the doors. “Remember do not engage, McGinnis. This is recon only.”

Terry didn’t respond as he peeked into the room. His heart spasmed in terror when his eyes fell onto a wall covered in pictures of you. A few were your school photos, but most were taken without your knowledge. Terry touched one that was you walking home with your siblings. “Are you seeing this?”

“This has been going on longer than we thought.” Bruce sighed deeply.

“Oh no, no, no.” Terry’s blood ran cold when he saw strands of your hair pinned to the wall. “The dreg has (Y/N)’s hair.” His hand clenched into a fist, rage pounded into his chest.

“Terrance, calm down. Remember this is recon.” Bruce’s voice was so calm. Terry wanted to snap back at him, but snapping at Bruce never did any good. “Is there any sign of plans?”

Terry shook his head, clearing the red rage from his vision. He let out a slow breath. “No, this looks more like a shrine to (Y/N).” Terry knelt down to access the computer on the floor next to the shrine. One tap, and he gave Bruce remote access.

“It looks like they ordered flowers for (Y/N) tomorrow.” Bruce’s rapid typing filled Terry’s ears. Terry felt sick to his stomach.

“That’s it. I got to go be with (Y/N). This freak is going to do something.” Terry got to his feet. He froze when he heard a door open downstairs. “Slag it. Someone’s home now.”

“Get out of there. I’ll search the computer some more.” Bruce clicked off. Terry shivered, eyeing the shrine of you one more time before slipping out of the window and rocketing into the sky.

***

“Terry, are you sure? Doesn’t Mr. Wayne need you today?” You asked, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you curled up on your couch in your living room. The window curtains were all tightly closed.

“No, he doesn’t, and my mom called the school to get me off today too.” Terry sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m here to stay.”

You had stayed home from school once you explained to your parents what was happening. They called the police, but of course, they couldn’t do anything since Tay hadn’t actually done anything. Terry could see the trembling of your hands, how the color drained from your face. This was making you sick.

“Thanks Ter.” You relaxed into him. “I hate this. Why did this person have to do this to me?”

“They’re sick.” Terry bit his lips. “(Y/N), do you know someone named Tay Diabolos?”

You blinked. “Yeah, they go to our school. I had science with them before they got kicked out for mixing cleaners and almost killing the class with the fumes.” You looked up at Terry curiously. “Don’t you remember? I had to go to the hospital with Blade and Zip. We got the worst of it.”

Terry’s eyes widened. “Wait, isn’t that when I got you the keychain? I picked you up from the hospital and took you to the mall where we got it from...that’s it!” Terry got to his feet suddenly. Your eyes widened at the sight.

“What’s it?” You bit your lip.

“The connection. I was trying to think why. I couldn’t remember why Tay would start doing this.” Terry sank down to kneel on the floor beside you. “That must have been the event to start their obsession.”

“Obsession?” Terry could see the terror wash over you. Right, he didn’t tell you about the shrine he found.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Terry took your hand. “I’ll handle it, okay?”

“Okay.” You gave Terry a weak smile as you squeezed his hand. “Just be careful.”

“Always.” Terry leaned forward to kiss your lips sweetly. For the first time in a long time, you seem relieved.

***

“I think I should fly down there and scare them away from (Y/N),” Terry said as he paced the cave. Bruce and Ace sat by the batcomputer, watching him.

“Ter, you know that will cause more problems. How does Batman know Tay is stalking a classmate? Why is Batman involving himself in a stalker case?,” Max said, eyeing the huge cave around her. It took a long time, but Bruce finally let her into the cave. She wandered over to look at the old costumes display. Bruce eyed her with slight disapproval.

“True.” Bruce stuck his cane out and tapped Terry’s leg.

Terry stopped pacing, crossing his arms. “I was thinking I would confront him as myself.”

“No. That will just make things worse.” Max snapped and turned to look at Terry with wide eyes. “Clearly, Tay was triggered by seeing you with (Y/N). That’s the reason for the keychains. They must have seen you buy one for (Y/N).”

“Then what am I supposed to do?! This is killing (Y/N)! I’m sick and tired of seeing them scared out of their mind!” Terry threw his hands up in the air. Ace barked at him, nervous from his outburst.

“Calm down, McGinnis,” Bruce said sternly, turning around in his chair to study the computer. “We need to go through normal channels. I’ve spoke to Barbara Gordon, she says she can help (Y/N) get a restraining order, but we need evidence first.”

“Aren’t the keychains enough?” Max asked, coming to Bruce’s side to watch the security footage of your house. They had installed it just in case.

Bruce shook his head. “No, (Y/N) threw most of them away. Besides, there is no evidence that Tay gave them the keychains. They covered their tracks well.”

A groan came from Terry as he pulled at his hair. His phone beeped. He picked up the phone once he saw it was you. The sound of your tears met his ear, his blood turned to ice water.

“Terry, there’s a message on our machine,” you whispered. Your voice breaking with a sob. “It’s from Tay. He said he left a present for me outside...”

“It’s okay. Just have everyone stay inside.” Terry ran over to the batcomputer, having to focus to keep his voice calm and even. Max and Bruce watched in concern when Terry had the batcomputer zoom in on the footage of your front step to show another batman keychain lying there.

“Oh my god.” Max gasped. “But we were watching the whole time.”

Bruce hummed, a scowl on his face. He reached over to pet Ace, who was getting jumpy from the energy of the room. “Terry, I can’t live like this anymore,” you said.

“Hush. I’ll take care of it. I swear.” Terry’s heart was ready to pound out of his chest. He wanted to fly over to Tay’s house and beat the life out of him. “Just stay inside. Leave the keychain where it’s at. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” You hung up the phone, but not before Terry heard a full out sob burst out of you.

“I think I have an idea.” Bruce got to his feet and walked over to the workbench to get his pill bottle. Terry stared at his phone, lost in his own tortured imagination. “We need to get Tay off the streets, and the best way to do that is to catch them for another crime.”

“Another crime?” Max put her hands on her hips. “But isn’t harassing (Y/N) enough?”

Bruce grunted. “No. Harassment is messy. It rarely sticks unless you have hard evidence which we don’t have.” Bruce leaned on his cane as he picked up his pills and swallowed them dry.

Terry stuck his phone back in his pocket. “You have a plan I assume?” He ran over to the changing area to switch into his suit.

“I do. From what I seen in the vid from your search of Tay’s home, I saw evidence of slappers.” Bruce walked back to the batcomputer and sat down.

“Oh, so we get Tay for drug possession, which should get them away from (Y/N).” Max grinned. “Sway idea, Mr. Wayne.”

“Yeah, sway.” Terry ran out of the changing area in full Batman mode. He hopped into the batmobile. “Keep me updated on what I need to do, but I have to check on (Y/N) first.” The batmobile zoomed off.

***

After Terry made sure your house was secure and you were calmed down, he followed Bruce’s lead to Tay’s house once again. “What’s your plan?”

“Find evidence of slappers in Tay’s house, make probable cause for the police to enter,” Bruce said firmly. “If we can get Tay on drug possession charges, they can get off the streets and get the help they need.”

“And (Y/N) will finally feel safe again.” Terry rocketed out of the batmobile and landed on the roof of the house next door. “There’s a party going on.” Tay’s house was raging, filling with people drinking, laughing, dancing. Loud music boomed out of the opened windows.

“This might be to our advantage. The noise alone will be probable cause.” Bruce hummed. “But we need to make sure the police find the slapper evidence and connect it to Tay.”

Terry grunted, turning on his optical camouflage and glided toward the house. He slipped through the open window, avoid the people in the room as he slipped through the open door to the hallway. It took him a full minute to get into the room where the shrine was since a couple was making out against it. They finally moved and Terry slipped inside.

Tay was in the room, luckily facing away from the door and didn’t see it seemly open on it’s own. It took every ounce of will for Terry not to rip into them when he saw them adding another photo to the shrine. He paled when it was a photo of your bedroom window, showing you hugging Terry with Terry still clearly in his batsuit.

“Damn,” Terry whispered under his breath. Suddenly, a smirk pulled at his lips. He turned off his camouflage.

“Terry, what are you doing?” Bruce asked sharply.

“Tay Diabolos.” A wave of satisfaction washed over Terry when Tay jerked, turning around in surprise. “I need to have a word with you.”

Tay laughed. “You think I’m scared, Terry McGinnis.” Tay pulled out a gun, aiming it at Terry’s chest. “You aren’t good enough for (Y/N).”

“You think I’m Terry McGinnis?” Terry laughed darkly. “You aren’t very smart, but then again, you wouldn’t be if you can’t notice what you’re doing to (Y/N) is criminal.”

“Don’t mock me!” Tay fired the gun. Terry easily dodged by stepping aside.

“Careful of the civilians around you, Terry. I’ll make an anonymous call to the police,” Bruce said. The slight approval in Bruce’s voice made Terry’s heart soar.

Terry shot out a batarang and knocked the gun from Tay’s hand. “Leave (Y/N) alone.” He marched forward, picking Tay up by the front of their shirt. “If I ever see you even look at them again, I’ll pound you into the pavement. The police would have to take a DNA test to identify your body.”

“You won’t stop me.” Tay spit in Terry’s face. Terry held back a flinch. “I’ll be with (Y/N). I love them more than you ever could, McGinnis.”

Terry grunted and dropped Tay only to throw a quick jab at their jaw. Tay dropped like a pile of bricks.

“Well, you certainly made a mess now.” Bruce’s voice filled Terry’s ears.

“We’ll figure it out. The suit can still be on autopilot mode, right?” Terry took the photo of himself and you and slipped it into his pocket.

Bruce hummed. “Yes, but you’ll need to move fast. The police are incoming.”

Terry grunted, climbing out the window of the room and flying through the air toward your house.

***

“I’m telling you the truth! Terry McGinnis is Batman!” Tay shouted, fighting against the restraints as the cops tried to put him into the car. Barbara put her hands in her pockets and glanced back at Batman who stood a few feet away.

“Right.” Another car pulled up and Terry exited. Barbara smiled. “And how is it he can be in two places at once?”

The blood drained out of Tay’s face as they looked between Terry and Batman. “It’s a trick! He planned this! I’ll get (Y/N) away from you! I swear it!”

“Enough.” The cops pushed Tay into the car and slammed the door to lock him inside.

Barbara patted Terry’s shoulder as Batman suddenly rocketed off into the sky into the waiting batmobile. “Tay won’t be bothering (Y/N) anytime soon. We have enough evidence to keep him in juvie for quite some time.”

“And the evidence for the restraining order?” Terry asked, biting his lip to keep from smirking in delight. The cops drove Tay away. Their shouts could still be heard through the vehicle.

“Being processed. We’ll hand it over to (Y/N)’s lawyer in the morning.” Barbara sighed. “I’ll let you deliver the news to (Y/N).”

“Thanks.” Terry hopped back into the car and drove back to your place.

“So it worked?” Bruce asked through the comlink in Terry’s ear. “And slow down, that’s my car you’re driving.”

Terry laughed. “It worked. Tay looked crazy.” He bit his lip, slowing down a bit. “Did the suit get back to the cave alright?”

“Yes, it just arrived with the batmobile. I’ll shut down autopilot mode.” Bruce hummed. “I assume you’re going to (Y/N)’s.”

“Of course.” Terry’s foot hit the gas again. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

Bruce grunted. “Right.” He hung up bluntly as he always did. Terry shook his head, unable to keep the grin off his face.

***

You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you. Taking a step outside your front door, you sighed in relief when you weren’t frozen from anxiety.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Terry said, running up the steps to you. You laughed and jumped into his arms.

“Hey yourself.” Terry spun you around. You screamed when he almost toppled down the stairs. “Are you ready for the club?”

“I am.” Your face hurt from how much you were smiling. “I want to dance the night away.”

Terry ran down the stairs with you still in his arms. “Sway, because I’m ready to dance with you all night too.”

“Put me down.” You patted his shoulders. Terry set you down, keeping his arm around your waist. You kissed his cheek as you both started down the street. “And thank you.”

“For what?” Terry smirked at you. His hand squeezed your hip.

You looked into his eyes. “Oh, you know.” The words didn’t dare leave your lips, keeping the fear at bay.

Terry smiled before kissing you passionately on the lips. You melted into him, content and safe in his arms.

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