Gangstas Paradise (Michael Gray X Reader)

Gangsta’s Paradise (Michael Gray x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON BORDERLINE NON-CON, blackmail, loss of virginity, (for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that Finn Cole is taller than what he is okay)

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: an agreement with the Peaky Blinders is almost a done deal…until you catch the eye of Michael Gray. You’re suddenly thrust into the equation, and your father must decide between losing everything or losing you.

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𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 | 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦

summary: Excon!Ransom shows up on your doorstep. What’s the worse that could happen?

warnings: excon!Ransom. smut. rough sex. dubcon. oral sex (female receiving). exhibitionism. surprise guest. dark!ending.

word count: 1,846

author’s note: thank you @river-soul​ for looking this over. 💙

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾

“Ransom!?” You squeak; shock written on your face as the excon stands on your doorstep. “What? How?”

He tilts his head to the ground and looks at you under his lashes. “I got out this morning,” he admits. “And you were the first thing on my to do list.”

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stepdad!Steve x Reader: good girl faith [One Shot]

Plot: the world is ugly but at least it has you.

or, the one where Steve Rogers crave to own something beautiful -- even if it comes in the form of his sweet stepdaughter.

Tags: stepdad/stepdaughter relationships, (big) age-gaps (y/n is 19 when anything happens Steve is 40), spoiled!reader, naive!reader, ballerina!reader, manipulation, dark!steve, power imbalance, misogyny, violence against women (not to y/n), MURDER, steve is a psycho, detailed violence, SMUT, minors DNI

Steve knew there was no happy ending in this long-winding story of his life.

In a world as shitty as his, he'd be lucky if he would die peacefully in his bed.

Despite being the poster child for all things good and great about their nation, Steve Rogers knew, without a shadow of a doubt that the world was an ugly place filled with suffering innocents and ruled by horrible monarchs.

He had long given up trying to save it.

The world has and will always be shit.

He learned that the hard way.

As an artist, he had always wanted to see the beauty in the most destitute of places. Desperate to capture the tiniest glimmer of hope in the most tragic of events.

But that part of his soul had long died, daggers of tragedy buried on its back -- the consequence of being Captain America.

He was tired. Tired of having to pretend anything in this god-forsaken world is ever worth saving anymore, accepting that anything kind and beautiful would wither and die in this hideous reality of his.

He had hoped laying down his shield would ease him off of his responsibilities but Nick Fury had to fucking die on him which resulted in his hands tied with no choice but to hold the fort as the Director of SHIELD while they scramble to find a replacement because he had made it clear that his time and charity there will be limited.

It wasn’t all bad.

He found himself married but it was only because he had thought a family was the next right thing after a retirement. He got bored of it after the first six months and that was him being nice. She was definitely a beauty, the type of woman the men of his time preferred. Traditional, simple-minded, a bit dull but had a sweet smile that almost makes up for it.

He thought she would be his muse, the beautiful guiding light he could live for. She wasn’t.

Yet somehow all was not for nought. For surprisingly, his wife wasn’t the one beautiful thing he had found in that little arrangement.

“Sir,” his secretary’s voice echoed in his quiet office. “Your 6 pm is here.”

His eyes flickered on the only picture frame standing on the right side of his oak table, letting his gaze run from her sensual curves, to her sweet, sweet smile, and into her bright eyes that seemed to look at him with worship as she called out his name.

“Daddy!”

John #7 as the rest of the office loved to call him (the captain stopped bothering to learn any names of his always changing secretaries and just opted to call them John regardless of gender) watched as his grim boss crack a smile for the first time today. It was almost eerie to see a semblance of happiness curve into his lips as he welcomed his darling stepdaughter who didn’t wait for permission and ran through the frosted glass door of his office.

A feat that is probably only permitted for this little young lady.

Steve was quick to wave off the two guards trailing behind her, silently instructing them to stay in the waiting room outside of his office.

The first time John saw Steve Rogers laugh he thought for sure he was having a stroke, the long hours finally getting to him. But it happened over and over again. The man who could not even spare a weekly lunch date with his own wife moved hell and highwaters to entertain any whims of his stepdaughter.

Now, the rest of the office just sighed in relief when they see your high bun and flowy skirts running around the building of shield with the executive-level ID card on your neck that gave you exclusive access to Steve Roger’s top floor office.

“Ah, my little dove,” John #7 tried not to show any more surprise at the nickname, especially when the young woman jumped into the Captain’s arms, giddily pressing kisses on his scruffy stubble almost seemingly unaware who exactly her stepfather was: the blood splattered on those gentle arms in the name of the responsibilities he carries, the horror he sees on the daily, the monsters he has to become unwillingly.

John #7 knows, he may not know half of it but he knows enough. However, he’s terrified enough of the golden man and the facade he wears to swear on his wife’s life that he will be taking all of Captain America’s secrets to the grave.

Especially from who was undoubtedly the most precious existence in Steve Roger’s life.

You were in a conservative turtle neck but in a loose skirt, your pink leg warmers only made you ooze even more innocence despite your age and made the contrast with the man’s dark blue suit even more apparent -- your choices of clothing made your innocent actions almost inappropriate.

“You ready for your show?” his boss smiled, the small but real ones he doesn’t usually show the press. The comforting tone of his voice would’ve made anybody who had ever had a minute long conversation with the captain double back but he had gotten used to the whiplash of his ever-changing personalities by now.

“I … I think so,” your nervous habit kicked in, worrying hands already tucking out the man’s shirt from his pants so you could play with its edges. It made both him and the old captain grind their teeth till it hurt.

“Sweetheart,” the lower octave his voice dropped to make you shiver and John to note down on his head to make sure nobody disturbs the captain in the next hour. He knew where this was going but he was paid enough to be as deaf as a pole and as blind as a bat. No matter how wrong and immoral it was. “You want daddy to calm you down?”

Despite his professionalism, John’s eyes couldn’t help but run through the covered toned legs of the young woman, her years of ballet training, as anyone who doesn’t live under a rock would know, had made her figure nearly perfect.

The sheltered, beautiful, perfect stepdaughter of Steve Rogers.

(Whose paparazzi shots sells by the tens of thousands because of how rare it was.)

His wandering eyes however nearly popped out of their sockets when it caught the dark glint of the captain’s gaze on him.

“John.”

He quickly kept his eyes down, knowing any more mistake won’t earn him any more of the captain’s few forgiveness. “I’ll keep the rest of your night free, sir.”

Captain America doesn't really take day offs, but when he does, it was always because of you.

Mr Rogers only hummed, already flicking his hand aimlessly as he placed a large, rough, protective palm on his sweet stepdaughter’s back, leading her to his thousand-dollar couch.

Stepping out of the stuffy office, John #7 knew the last thing he heard would haunt him for the rest of his sleepless night.

“Get on your position, dove. Just how I like it.”

“Daddy!”

Ida’s head nearly separated from her head with how quickly she turned her head at the voice of her irritating junior.

But she was glad she did, as she was met with the glorious figure of Steve Roger’s himself.

“So it’s true.”

“Is that how she got nominated as a principal dancer so quick?”

“Lucky bitch.”

Ida shared her colleagues’ sentiments. It was a well-known fact that despite your innate talent and grace in dancing, it was with a healthy dash of nepotism and your pretty last name that you had managed to land into one of the most prestigious companies in New York after your first try.

This always left a bitter taste in her mouth, how she had to crawl and cut and fight her way to the top, only for you to threaten her position as the head principal ballerina by batting your eyelashes at good ol’ daddy.

“Did you like the show?”

“You were wonderful, dove.”

Ida’s jaw locked, her nose fuming out hot breaths.

The world was unfair.

How do you get the supportive stepfather who gave you everything in a golden platter while she gets to work two jobs a couple of years ago just to support her passion? And now, talks of you being the Swan Queen in the next show is roaming around because not only will you get to live the life she always dreamed of, you also want to steal the one thing left she has to live for.

“You looked great out there, sweetheart. All your hard work really paid off.”

Ida nearly scoffed at your mom’s words, she doubt you ever had to truly work hard for naything in your life. Not since your mother snatched Captain America himself, anyways.

But her irritation was cut off when she saw Steve Roger’s reaction to his wife’s voice.

The young ballerina felt shivers run up her spine at how quickly his eyes turned cold as he faced his wife. Regarding her as if she was an intruding stranger to their conversation, “She needs water, get her some. We’ll meet you in the car.”

Ida felt the hurt despite the words not being for her.

She could almost feel the temperature drop at how hard his stare turned. Wasn’t Steve Roger’s supposed to be hopelessly in love with his wife? “But I --”

“Daddy, are we having dinner at The Elysia?”

The cold man suddenly regarded you with a warm smile.

“Hmm, maybe,” Ida can feel the second-hand embarrassment as his wife got completely kicked out of the conversation. Steve Roger’s face was now soft and kind as he accepted your shrieks and kisses on his face, his cold expression melting away as if it was an illusion.

“Go on.”

But it wasn’t.

“We’ll follow you in a moment.”

He was still so cruel.

“Yes, dear.”

Just not to you.

Ida watched as the man that was once America’s favourite son -- the man every man should be aiming to become turned his back on his dejected wife and walked with you towards your own dressing room (another perk that was supposed to be enjoyed by senior principal ballerinas like her yet you managed to grab anyways).

Despite her better judgement, Ida sneakily tried to follow the two of you, for reasons till this day she wasn’t sure what.

If she knew what she knows now, she would’ve booked it out of there the first chance she got.

But she had gotten curious about Mr Roger’s difference of treatment between his stepdaughter and his wife, or the way you were seemingly ignorant of the tension between the two of them. Maybe Ida wanted to gain some leverage and hoped to get some of his attention too in one way or another if that meant getting ahead of her peers.

It worked for you, why shouldn’t it work for her?

But mostly the way the two of you were acting was not sitting right with her gut and maybe, she was either giving you the chance to prove her wrong or prove her right.

So despite knowing how foolish she was acting she tiptoed into the second floor where all the personal dressing rooms were, five minutes after the two of you disappeared, making sure on her way up that the rest of the dancers were already out the door so they don;t see her snooping around.

She tried to act inconspicuous as she passed by the personalized baby pink door that stood out from the rest of the white doors of the other dressing rooms, barely able to make out the muffled sounds of movements inside due to the soundproof installation of each room.

Trying the door, she cursed. Of course, it was going to be locked.

Then, she swears she could hear your moans.

“..ddy!”

…. It couldn’t be.

Full of adrenaline, Ida ran to the room next to yours, thanking god that Iris, the owner had a date with her fiance, leaving it empty. She remembered her complaining that the music you blasted for your meditation travelled through the narrow and fragile air vent in the wall that connected your rooms together. she was just about to get it covered by the maintenance men and they swore up and down they'll finish it tomorrow so Ida knew the screw was still loose for tonight.

Jumping on the couch, she unscrewed the cover, lifting herself up and quietely crawled into the short journey to the light that shined on the hole that led on the other side --straight into your room.

She was glad she prepared herself for the worst.

Managing to trap her shock by biting her tongue.

As she looked through the slit of the vent, what greeted him was a sight that would’ve turned the world upside down.

The Great Captain America, kneeling on the plush pink carpeted floor as he ate her young stepdaughter’s cunt.

“Daddy, ‘s too much!”

Your whine only got you a slap on your thigh that echoed into the small space in the vent Ida was hiding in. The sound made her flinch, now acutely aware and disgusted of her own dripping core.

“Stop squirming, little one,” his voice muffled on youe slit, one he fixed by placing both his thumbs on each side of your dripping lips and spreading it apart for his torture. “I don’t like playing with my food.”

Despite her disgust, Ida crossed her legs tighter, face burning in embarrassment at her own arousal in watching this despicable man and her harlot of a stepdaughter.

He was a cheater, and worse, with his wife’s daughter. He should be crucified for his sins but the way he skillfully licks and sucks and nibble on his stepdaughter’s pussy had Ida's nipples pebbling, nearly panting from the uncontrollable heat in her crotch no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

“Daddy! I’m -- I’m cumming!”

The older man gripped on your thighs tighter, not letting up even as you screamed and gripped on the mop of hair at the top of his head, body shaking from the pleasure, drool dripping down the side of your lips.

Ida’s chest heaved.

Disgusting.

They’re both disgusting.

“What do you say, dove?”

The man towered over you, making Ida hold her breath as his height shortened the distance between the two of them. If she had reached out her hand she was sure she would be able to touch the top of his head.

“T-Thank you, daddy.”

From above, Ida could see your breathing regulate, the light mist of perspiration on your face and chest making your skin glow, along with the dopey smile on your face. She could only imagine the satisfaction running through your veins after that orgasm.

Ida had to give it to him, Steve Roger's deserved that thank you.

“Why don’t you get along and join your mother in the car, little one,” Steve walked out of Ida's line of sight as he turned to the opposite side of the room, leaving his stepdaughter with her legs still spread-eagled, barely catching her breath. “I’ll bring all your stuff for you.”

“I --” she was pretty sure Mr Roger’s gave you a look that had you shakily standing up immediately and putting on your underwear carelessly thrown on the carpeted floor. “Yes, daddy.”

The hold he had on you and your mother really showed just how traditional of a man he is. His words were law, and the two of you were aware of that,

Steve walked back into view, leaning down so you could stand on your tiptoes and press one final kiss on his lips. “Thank you again, daddy. My nerves are all gone now!”

He only hummed in response, sneaking his gigantic hands under your skirt to give your ass a squeeze before watching without another word as you stepped out of the room, innocently skipping towards the car where she knows your mom was waiting in, completely unaware of the knife on her back from the people she loved the most.

“Dove?”

“Hmm?”

“Lock the door on your way out.”

Ida has seen enough.

She was just about to think about her next move now that she’s armed with this new knowledge when an explosion and a sharp pain on her leg had her screaming and falling from the ceiling straight into the ground, sprawled out a few inches from Captain America’s leather shoes.

She gaped in both shock and pain.

He had made a hole on the ceiling and through the vent with his brute strength, trapping her into the room with him.

Even if she screamed she knew no one would be able to hear. After all, she had made sure herself that they had been alone.

“M-My leg --” she sobbed, horror filling her chest now that not only did she get caught, but the pounding on her lower limb is also telling her she would definitely be out for the rest of the season.

“So there was a little rat in the ceiling.”

She pushed herself up but a sharp pain on her leg had her freezing, finally seeing the tragic state her leg was in.

“AAAAAAH!” her scream was cut off when the man rammed his foot on her stomach, having her flying away and crashing on the mirror of the other side of the room, the pieces of glass cutting through whatever part of her it could reach. That only made the broken bone on her leg worse, cracking even more, almost uselessly hanging on to each other through the ragged pieces of skin.

“God, you’re loud,” he sighed, fingers massaging his forehead as if she was nothing but a bother when she was the one with the sliced up skin and dangling foot. Ida sobbed when he crouched down, now she can see his cold dead eyes closer. She can’t believe for a second of her life he had thought of him as beautiful.“Can’t even hide to save your life.”

He’s a monster.

“I-I -- I won’t tell anyone! Sir, please! I promise I won’t --”

She could do nothing but sob in horror when he laughed to her face, a bitter one that told her that her promises meant absolutely nothing to him.

She screamed louder when he gripped her broken leg in his rough palms, making the bleeding worse, her bones cracking like fragile sticks in his superhuman grip.

“You’re Ida aren’t you? The one who’s been bothering my little one,” he ran his eyes on her like she was an animal to be experimented on. “What should I do with you?”

“P-Please … sir, please,” she sobbed harder when she saw the state her leg was in. Purple and limp, pieces of bone protruded through different directions. The realization that the career she had worked her entire life on would be over had her wondering if her life was worth begging for at this point.

“Ah, how unpleasant,” she warily watched as the man walked away from her, forcing her to slump on the sharp pieces of the shattered mirror on the floor. Grabbing a towel he wiped his hands with it then shoved the bloodied towel into the pink duffel bag you liked to carry around, while his free hand grabbed the expensive-looking bouquet of flowers effortlessly. “I came here to spend some precious time with my lovely stepdaughter but caught a sneaky rat instead.”

She could only try to hold her cries, in hopes of not irritating the short-tempered captain anymore.

He sighed.

“My secretary will be coming in a while,” she backed up on the wall when he came closer, willing it to swallow her up if it meant getting away from the beast in front of her.

“If you say anything about what happened here to anyone,” she choked on her own horrified gasp when he gently hovered his shoe on her other unbroken foot, slowly putting pressure into it creaked in protest. “I’ll make sure you’ll wish I gouged your eyes out instead.”

“Daddy! I’m the new head principal ballerina!”

Steve placed the newspaper in his hands on the table, catching you in his arms as you settled yourself on his lap, nearly bouncing up and down his crotch in your glee.

He should give John #7 a raise. Or was his name Christian?

“Well, isn’t that a pleasant surprise?”

Steve still remembers the day everything changed between the two of you.

In times of extreme stress, he likes to think about it to calm himself down.

It was the week after your 19th birthday where his gift for you had comprised of a three-year training course to the most prestigious ballet institute in the country that was basically the golden key for you to get accepted in the company you had been dreaming of.

To show your dedication, you had been cooped up in your personal dance studio for the past few days, training and prepping yourself up for the incoming semester.

“Daddy?”

Steve caught the swinging personalized punching bag that weighed nearly ten bodies at the sound of your voice, looking behind him to see you in your white leotards and sheer pink skirt. The uniform you always wore whenever you do your own training in the home studio he had gotten built just for you.

You looked a little flushed but tried to hide it with your usual smile.

“I need to stretch, mom already left for her brunch with Steff.”

Why does he pay your instructor so much if she just leaves to hang out with your mother any chance she got. The man made a mental note to have a little talk with that shameless woman on your next session.

“Did they?”

You nodded meekly as he grabbed a towel, wiping his face and torso as he walked in your direction.

You looked too tiny in his gym, the black and blue palette a brutish contrast to your pink skirt and gentle face. It makes Steve want to scoop you up and eat you whole.

Huh.

“Can you help me, daddy?” you stood on your tiptoes, cradling his face to press a kiss on his sweaty face, feet never leaving the white line from the door knowing your stepfather doesn’t like you in his gym where everything could potentially hurt or crush you.

Your saccharine smile at how quickly he had come to you told him you knew exactly how to play your stepfather, not that he gave you any shit for it.

It felt nice to be adored.

To receive gentle touches and soft kisses -- to look into the eyes of another and not see the poorly hidden fear and horror, instead to only see his reflection in your eyes that are filled with blind love and submission.

He couldn’t help but grip the back of your neck, making you gasp in shock, before pressing his own gentle kiss on the edge of your lips.

He was done trying to control the monster crawling out of his soul to consume you.

“Of course, dove.”

Steve had tried to control himself as best as he could, despite being your stepfather for only a year, he had showered you with everything you could ever want. Even the things he had thought of as a waste of money like your little passion for dancing.

He had thought you would be wary of him at first but you were a sweet child. So sweet, almost painfully naive. It made Steve want to protect you from the entire world.

And that’s what exactly he did.

Despite Bucky giving him shit for it after he swore back and forth he wasn’t going to be one of those doting parents, maximum security was added in his family home, bodyguards shadowed your every move, even a secret team of agents that followed you wherever you go if he wasn't with you.

There were a few unartistic attempts on your life but he had nipped it in the bud before it could grow.

And he was successful.

Despite being the stepdaughter of the greatest man to ever live, your existence had nearly become a mystery to the rest of the world. Even with their best efforts, reporters and paparazzi could barely grapple an album’s worth of photographs of you unless he himself approved of it. The ones that did manage to snap one without his permission was dealt with swiftly.

(He wonders if enough time has passed for the rotting flesh of that one photographer that tried to sell bikini photos of you to be unrecognizable if he removes the shackles that held him down under the cliff of his property in Norway.)

What he failed to take in his calculations, however, is how he wasn’t able to protect you from the one person who served as the biggest threat to your innocence.

Him.

Slowly, his little need to protect his lovely stepdaughter from the horrors of the world turned into an obsession. An obsession in your every move, at your sweet gaze that he wants to be directed straight at him. He wants to own it -- own every beautiful piece of you and leave nothing else for the rest of the world

It didn’t help that you had been almost as attached to your stepfather as you grew into a beautiful woman. Hanging on to his every word like it was law, never questioning his motives even if it isolated you from your peers and sometimes even your mother.

“I like daddy the most,” you’d always say.

It makes him wonder if you could still utter those sweet words if he knew how much he liked you too -- how he likes you enough to want to keep you in a pretty golden cage just like his little dove.

“Alright, that’s your upper torso done,” Steve supported your side as you stretched your arms. You were easing your way into being more flexible, which meant a lot of slow but long and intense stretching where you need strong hands to keep your outstretched body in place. That’s where Steve comes in, his strength more than enough to keep you in place and test your limits if you have to.

“Bend down.”

Steve licked his lips.

His cock twitched in agreement as he gently but firmly pushed the base of your spine until your palms were flat on the floor, half of your body folded flawlessly.

“Hold it,” he made sure to give enough pressure to assist you, not only for your sake but also for his viewing pleasure. Bending down on the length of your body he gently pushed your palms closer and closer to your feet to deepen your stretch. He chuckled at your whine. “You’re doing amazing, sweet thing. Be a good girl and hold your position.”

Steve hummed in satisfaction when you nodded as best as you could.

“Ah, I know what the issue is.”

“Daddy!” you gasped, feeling your bra snap as Steve skillfully unhooked it with a flick of his finger, letting it fall uselessly on the ground. But it’s not like there was much that you could do while you’re currently upside down with his hand firmly holding you in position.

“It’s hindering your movement,” he chided, slapping the meat of your thigh to keep you in line. “Don’t raise your voice at me, young lady. You asked for my help.”

“S-Sorry, daddy. Yes, thank you.”

Steve took a single step back, letting out a near growl at seeing what he had expected to see when he chose this position for your morning stretch

The shape of your young, plump cunt, nearly tattoed on your thin, stretched out leotards and stockings.

“I-It’s starting to hurt --”

“A few more seconds.”

Carelessly, he flipped the sheer skirt covering his view, kneeling down on his knees so he was on the same level as your ever apparent core.

“I’ll push you a bit more.”

Carefully, he guided your flattened palms closer until you were holding your feet, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes in pleasure when a waft of your essence grazed his nose. His hand sneaking down from your waist into the curves of your ass, thumbs just barely grazing the edge of the lips of your pussy, even gently pushing and rubbing it together knowing you wouldn’t have the guts to call him out for it.

The wet noise your pussy made in agreement cemented your fate.

“Daddy, I can’t anymore --”

“On the ground, little one. Do the butterfly pose. We’re almost done.”

You seemed hesitant but followed nonetheless, sitting on the ground then innocently looking up at him who was towering behind you. His eyes however were in your pebbling nipples, fighting the urge to bite it till it bruised.

“You’re such a good girl,” he knelt down to press a kiss on your forehead. “Now stretch out your legs and give me a split.”

Steve smiled at watching you easily comply. Supporting your back with his chest and trapping you in between his meaty thighs, he placed two of his palms on your waist not missing the way you shivered as he rubbed your stomach with his warm, rough palms.

Slowly building up his innocent brushes until he was palming your tits and he had you panting like a bitch in heat in his arms.

“Your mother told me you’ve been having a hard time falling asleep, dove.”

“I-It’s just nerves, daddy,” you gulped, letting out small airy moans despite your best efforts. “Wanna make you proud.”

“I’m always proud of you,” he pressed another kiss on your temple. “But I can’t have you not getting proper sleep. Let’s get some nap after this, hmm? What do you think?”

“But I’m not sleepy,” you pouted.

A conniving smirk grew on your stepfather’s face. “Well, I know just how to tire you out.”

“Wha --”

“Reach in front of you,” he cut you off, pushing you by your backto lay your upper torso flat on the ground. Your pussy now, once again, vulnerable for his ministrations, just like he wanted.

A finger gliding on the length of your slit masterfully.

“Aah! D-Daddy, that’s --”

“Hmm?” his hold on the end of your spine didn’t waver, his index finger pressing harder on the tense little button he found at the top of your increasingly dripping cunt. “Didn’t you know, little one? Having an orgasm can not only help you relax, but it also makes you dopey and sleepy. Think it had to do with hormones and shit.”

You gasped, surprised both by his thick Brooklyn accent slipping out and by his crude language when you had strict instructions to keep your tongue clean as a proper lady should.

“But daddy I don’t think we should be …”

“Then stop thinking.”

Your toes curled, legs flinching uncontrollably at the pleasure that run up your body when in just a little pressure from his fingers he had ripped through your white stockings and plunged two fingers into your pussy.

“Pretty little things like you should just stay pretty and let their daddy do all the hard thinking, don’t you think so, little one?”

He didn’t let you form an answer, curling his fingers till it hit the spongy spot that had drool slipping out of your bottom lip, eyes rolling in the back of your head, as you whined.

“All you have to do,” he smiled as you screamed, the sudden intense orgasm exploding in your core had your entire body shaking. “Is cum.”

Steve grinned at your state, leg twitching, laying like a rag on the ground. Placing his soaking fingers on his mouth, he hummed in pleasure at your taste as he checked his phone to see a missed call and a text message from your mother.

‘Will be late but I’ll buy groceries for dinner, do you have any requests, darling?’

He snickered quietly, bending down and grabbing your limp body. Throwing you over his shoulder as you writhed and moaned from the excess pleasure still running through your body, hands desperately rubbing up his back hoping to find some purchase or comfort from him.

He typed out his response with one hand as he took you in the direction of the master’s bedroom.

He wasn’t done with you just quite yet.

'Suprise me. I love everything you make, honey.'

“Oh, has she slept the entire day?”

Steve looked up from the book he was reading in the reading nook of the master’s bedroom to the sound of his wife’s voice by the door before running his eyes back into your sleeping form in the middle of the bed.

“Were you not able to rest because of this? Sorry, honey, I’ll wake her up right now --”

“It’s alright,” he raised a hand, pleased when your mother immediately stopped in her tracks. “Why don’t you prepare dinner, I’ll wake her up by then. I’m sure the little thing’s wiped from practising.”

She seemed hesitant and maybe a bit confused as to why her daughter would choose the master’s bedroom of all rooms to rest but the gentle smile on her husband’s face was too sweet for her to try and ruin it with unnecessary questions.

“Alright.”

“Thank you, honey,” as unpleasant as it was, Steve even pressed a kiss on her cheeks.

He wonders if she can smell the drying juices of her own daughter in his lips. Cause he definitely could still taste whisps of it in his mouth.

Watching his wife go down the steps, his smile fell almost as quickly. He walked to the side of the bed to flip the weighted blanket that he had haphazardly thrown over you when he heard your mother’s car.

This time it brings a small but genuine smile on his face to see your little cunt still leaking his cum, globs of it on the bed. It’s almost too tempting not to change the sheets.

But it’s too early to get sloppy and get caught.

“Dove, wake up. It’s time for dinner.”

He should feel bad, especially with your pitiful whines that is probably due to your sore body, your poor little cunt taking the brunt of his frustrations. He had not been as nice as he had hoped to be but truly you only had yourself to blame for being a little minx and unconsciously seducing your stepfather to the brink of insanity.

“Daddy,” you whined, reaching your grabby hands up at him till he carried you out of the bed, reminding himself to clean it all up while you are in the bathroom. “Mom --”

“What did I tell you about thinking?”

Pouting, you rubbed your face into his neck, more than happy to answer “to let daddy do it.”

You were tired of thinking and worrying about it anyways.

Steve felt his chest puff, proud he already has you in the palm of his hand.

“Good girl.”

You were beautiful.

The world may have gone to shit, the tyrants may have remained in rule but you ... you were beautiful.

Finally, after years of fruitless searching, Steve Rogers has finally kept for himself something beautiful.

A beautiful little thing bouncing on his cock.

“‘S too much. You’re so big, daddy -- please.”

Your whines were music to his ears, your saliva and dripping sweat that ran the length of your naked torso like the driblets of water from an oasis that could cure his thirst. Your warm walls enveloped all of him until he felt like he could implode.

“Too much? But you’re doing so good for me, my dove,” he patronized you, gripping your waist to slam you back on his raging cock mercilessly, ignoring the way your eyes blanked as, just like in all the things you do, you let your stepfather take your reigns.

All you could do was make little noises as he uses you as his own fleshlight, the squelch of your drooling cunt and the slap of your skins filled the entire room with lewd noises as the two of you drowned in sex and sin.

“Cumming daddy, i’m about to cum!”

You know your daddy gets upset if you cum without his permission.

He had made it known, after all, that he owns every piece of you. Especially that delectable paradise you keep in between your legs.

“Yeah? Can feel your little pussy sucking on my cock like it wants something,” he grinned, flipping the two of you and pushing your legs to your chest. Trapped like a little bunny that was hunted by the big bad wolf. “Does it want something, little one?”

You sniffed.

He was so mean.

He knows you can never formulate thought’s properly when he was fucking you senseless but still he teases you endlessly. It strokes his ego so when you turn doe-eyed and dumb -- when he sees your beautiful face with his marks and your tears.

“Tell me,” he buried his entire length in you, despite your little pussy constantly fighting his intruding cock he continued rubbing it inside to keep you choking on your own saliva. “What does your greedy little pussy want?”

“Cum ...”

God, you are really so beautiful -- so perfect just like this.

“It wants your cum, daddy.”

Your quiet proclamation was the thing he needed to reach his end, burying his entire length till it hit the entrance of your womb, where he gave you exactly what he wanted.

The two of you grunted and moaned in unison as you reached your ends.

“Thank you, thank you,” your wavering voice muttered, despite being out of it. It seemed Steve’s training had paid off enough for you not to forget your manners even in your delirious state.

It’s been four years since this little affair started.

If he had thought of you as beautiful then he had not been prepared for the men he had to dispose of to keep you safe and in his grasp. The suitors were easy to handle but your mom’s insistence for her 23-year-old daughter to start dating, to "experience" the world, was a little trickier.

It makes Steve chuckle.

Your mother would go insane if she knew just how experienced her daughter already was in opening her legs.

“Daddy?”

Steve reached for the tobacco on the bedside table before acknowledging you with a glance.

“Do … do you think that did it?”

Ah.

He quickly killed his old habit, throwing away the fresh cigarette outside the open window where he hoped the growing rain would put it out for him.

“Hmm, I think that one did the trick,” Steve brushed his lips on your sweaty temple, gently pushing you with his body so you were flat on your back again as he sat and hovered over you by the side of the bed, his palms resting on your stomach where his firstborn would soon reside. “If not, I don’t mind trying again.”

You giggled, grabbing on to his wandering finger and pressing it into your cheeks as your sleepiness slowly consumed you. He really can’t blame you, you’d been at it for hours.

“But what about …”

“Shh, go to sleep,” he grabbed the discarded blanket with one hand, carefully covering your bare body with it. “We have nine months to worry about what to do with your mother.”

A small gasp from behind the crack of the bedroom door, and the small scuffle of poorly covered footsteps in the hallway however told him he might have to wrap things up earlier than he needed to.

Standing up, he was just about to take care of the last knot in his plans when your grip on his hand stopped him.

“Will it really be alright, daddy? I’m scared mom will … things might turn ugly.”

Ugly.

He scoffed.

His dove does sometimes like to think of the most useless things.

“As long as you’re with me, little one,” he took your hand and kissed the back of it. “I’ll make sure everything else will remain beautiful.”

“A beauty, isn’t she?”

His wife’s -- well, ex-wife’s muffled screams from behind the cloth he had shoved in her mouth was all the answer he needed. But he didn’t let it distract him from appreciating once more the blown-up painting of your bare, but professionally covered body in his secret little man cave.

The painting of his muse included skillfully painted vines and flowers covering your most intimate areas, but it only made it lewder enough that it constantly tempts him to brush over the leaves in hopes of seeing more of what it's hiding.

The memory of the day he painted it -- with you sprawled out on the very couch he was sitting in, giggling and whimpering at having to stay in position while your stepfather memorialized your beautiful body for his viewing pleasure -- brings warmth on his chest only you were able to pull.

The horror in his wife’s eyes as she stared at the paintint almost made him laugh out loud.

“You’ve raised her well. I guess I should thank you for that.”

Her desperate efforts to get out of the ropes Steve bound her in halted when she saw the glint of the gun in his hands from the light of the moon reflected on it.

“A mother and a wife, overwhelmed by the pressure and attention of being Mrs Rogers ran away in the middle of the night with her secret lover,” Steve narrated to her the plot of the story he was going to feed the press and to you when this night was over and the deed was done.

He even had a forged letter prepared and everything.

Tears and drool dripped down her face, making her look uglier and uglier in his eyes. Despite being the one who birthed you it constantly surprises Steve how irritating and hideous he found his wife as time passed.

It was unpleasant to look at, to say the least.

Especially to someone like Steve who was now only used to your beauty.

“Forcing a heartbroken husband and the young daughter she left behind to find love and comfort with each other,” Steve removed the safety of the gun, aiming it straight into her shaking form.

He paused, dramatically, breathing in as if he was taking it all in, “Thus Steve Rogers finally, after years of searching, found his true love.”

Standing up he pressed the gun into her forehead, grinning from ear to ear maniacally, deep into his delusions and deaf to her pleas for her life.

“Isn’t that such a beautiful little ending?”

AAAAA WTF THIS GOT WAY TOO DARK but I fuck with it. I think this is the first time i've written dark!steve so let me know what yall think!

- tia

Talia

Father of Mine – Masterlist

Jason was watching Damian try to hold back any signs that he was in pain.

Tonight had been rough.

As Red Hood, Jason usually kept his distance from his family while patrolling, still holding on to his grudges and proving his independence. Once he came back to Gotham as Red Hood, Jason refused to take direct orders from Bruce. He only worked with his family if it looked like he was doing so as a favor.

Tonight was different though.

The family had intercepted an attack from the League of Shadows. And Jason has a…history with the Shadows.

Damian, who constantly struggled with staying loyal to both his parents, saved a target from being killed. After all, they were in Gotham. And as Robin, Damian swore to never kill.

Unfortunately, Talia Al Ghul did not share the same beliefs.

But Damian was a kid and being a hero made him a traitor to the Shadows that had raised him. So, they immediately shifted their attack onto the boy, taking their revenge on Robin for intervening and ruining their plan.

Once Jason caught wind of the Shadows being in Gotham, he bolted to help his family. He was one of the few who could take them on alone. But he knew his family would need all the help they could get.

As he sprinted across rooftops to get to the rest of the family, Jason’s mind flashed an image of Y/N. If any of them got hurt or worse, she wouldn’t be able to handle it.

When Jason arrived, he saw Damian trying to take on his mother’s small army all on his own:

Just when the boy was about to be overrun, Jason stepped in.

“Where the hell is Bats?” Jason growled as he took out an assassin.

“On his way,” Damian managed to sputter out. He was out of breath, further proving that Jason arrived just in time.

“And the others?” Jason asked, knocking out two more assassins.

But Damian didn’t answer the question. Instead, he cried out in pain as a Shadow struck their sword down the boy’s back, ripping open skin and muscle.

It made Jason’s stomach drop. But he fought harder, now having to take on all the shadows while protecting Damian as he struggled to get back on his feet and continue fighting.

Jason was surprised to see Y/N rushing down the stairs from the manor. She was wearing sweats and one of his shirts that he knew he’d left her sleeping in before he’d gone out for patrol. She’d thrown his denim jacket on, too. It was evident that she’d been woken up in the middle of the night and rushed to Wayne Manor.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Jason growled. His eyes shot to Bruce, giving him an accusatory look. “You called her? Seriously?”

“It was I, Master Jason,” Alfred immediately spoke up.

All animosity left Jason’s expression when he realized it wasn’t Bruce or one of the boys. Jason had never been angry with Alfred in his life.

In return, Alfred seemed amused that Jason quickly gave up his fight once he realized it was him that gave Y/N the heads up.

“Ms. Y/N and I have a deal,” Alfred explained as he glanced at Damian. “And I am a man of my word, Master Jason.”

Jason didn’t respond. He was too preoccupied with quickly standing up as Y/N rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He tried to assure her.

Y/N pulled away and grasped his face, staring into his eyes, making sure he wasn’t lying to her.

After a few seconds, her attention was pulled away by Damian’s whimper of pain as Alfred cleaned the laceration on his back.

Y/N quickly moved to her brother. “Damian,” she gasped.

As he sat on the bench – uniform pulled down to his waist, leaving his chest bare – he looked even younger. Not even a young man yet, still a kid. His smaller muscles and frame reminded everyone of his youth.

“I’m fine,” Damian growled out accidentally. Then gave his sister an apologetic look.

“This is exactly the coddling that has made him weak, lover.”

Y/N whipped around at the voice, watching as a woman sauntered out of the shadows of the cave.

“How the hell did you get in here?” Dick asked as he stepped forward.

“Do not insult my intelligence,” Talia snapped back.

“It was your legion that injured him!” Jason yelled, also stepping toward the assassin.

Talia ignored Jason, her gaze moving to Bruce. “His time here has made him grown weak. It was his rebellious acts against the Shadows that caused him injury.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you had to sneak away from your own people to make sure your son was alright,” Dick spat.

Talia still ignored everyone now, only locking in on Y/N, who still held Damian’s face in her hands, comforting him with her touch and nearness.

“So this is the bastard child…” Talia cooed as she looked at Y/N with disgust.

Jason took a step in front of Y/N. “Choose your next words carefully, Talia.”

Bruce finally saw his cue to step in. He could only ignore his ex-lover for so long before she became a danger to everyone around them.

“Ahhh. Yes,” Talia cooed with the tilt of her head. “You have also taken her as your lover, Jason. How sweet.”

“And she's already been more of a maternal figure to your son than you have for his entire life,” Dick pointed out.

“Talia, it is time for you to leave,” Bruce warned her finally.

But, of course, she ignored him completely.

Instead, Talia glared at the young woman.

Seeing Y/N be gentle with her son had triggered something in Talia. And now she was out for blood.

“I am sure you have grown to love Jason oh so very much,” Talia cooed at Y/N as she tiptoed closer.

Jason’s jaw clenched and he gave her a warning look. “Talia, enough.”

“He’s quite the lover, is he not?” Talia sneered.

“Talia!” Jason growled in warning.

Talia then asked Y/N, “Do you ever wonder how he became such a talented lover?”

Y/N stepped away from Damian finally and fully faced Talia. But Jason held up his arm to stop her from walking past him; he wanted to keep himself between the two women.

Talia smiled and somehow made it condescending. “It is because I taught him everything he knows. He was so innocent and inexperienced. Yet I turned him into an incredible lover.”

Y/N’s face paled when she realized what Talia was telling her.

Her gaze whipped to Jason, looking for him to refute the woman’s claim. But he wouldn’t meet it. Instead, his head was hung low in shame. And it only confirmed that Talia told no lies.

“Oh, he never told you I was his first lover?” Talia feigned innocence.

Y/N could see Bruce off to the side from her peripheral.

And from his expression and posture, she knew him enough to realize this is was news to him, as well.

It seemed Tim and Dick were caught off guard, too.

Damian and Jason were the only two that appeared unfazed.

“At least I don’t have to coerce and manipulate men to sleep with me,” Y/N hissed. “I wonder what it’s like to have the father of your child hate you much.”

That didn’t sit well with Talia.

She immediately pulled out a sword from behind her. “Why you little…”

To Y/N’s shock, it was Damian who jumped in between Y/N and Talia.

His posture was hunched, proving how much pain he was still in. His skin was clammy and pale.

Damian’s voice shook, “I think it is time for you to leave, mother.”

“Damian,” Talia warned. “She is unworthy of your respect, a weak civilian. Need I remind you, you are Heir to the Demon Throne. She is nothing.”

Y/N didn’t want this to turn into a fight, and all because of her mere presence. Before he could respond, she interrupted with, “It’s fine, Dami. I’ll leave. She can stay.”

And without hesitation, she made her escape without looking back.

Talia moved her disgust to Bruce. “You should be keeping her away from our son.”

Jason suddenly stepped forward with purpose, taking all of Talia’s attention.

“Jason!” Bruce reprimanded, knowing something bad was about to happen.

But he pretended not to hear him.

In one swift motion, Jason pulled out a gun from behind him, cocked it, and pointed it inches away from Talia’s head.

Jason’s voice was disturbingly deep and even, “If you so much as threaten her, I won’t hesitate to put a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

Talia scoffed, despite there being a gun inches from her face, “As if you wo–”

“He’s not bluffing, mother.” Damian cut her off.

Bruce stepped closer, hoping the calm the tension. “Y/N is under our protection and the protection of the Justice League.”

“Yeah, good luck with facing off with Superman,” Dick chimed in, arms crossed.

Bruce cleared his throat roughly. “You’re not welcome here, Talia. Leave, before you do more damage to your relationship with our son.”

Talia looked down at Damian, expecting him to defend her.

But all she got in return was a look that showed how disappointed Damian was in her.

Knowing she was outnumbered and unwelcome, Talia slowly shrunk back into the shadows of the cave. But everyone knew when she had left. And they expected she wouldn’t come back any time soon.

Jason finally dropped the gun, but everything in his posture was screaming that he wished Talia had given him a reason to shoot her.

“Jason…” Dick said slowly.

His brotherly and paternal instincts were telling him that Jason was not okay after being so exposed.

“She'll hate me,” Jason sounded like he was about to throw up. “She won’t ever look at me the same.”

“That’s not true,” Dick tried to say as he walked to him and gripped his shoulders. “Y/N loves you. You were just a kid, Jason.”

The sudden urge to fix everything made Jason suddenly snap out of it, so close to falling into a black hole of self-hatred and self-destruction.

But he managed to pull himself away from the temptation. Anything to keep Y/N.

“Where did she go?” Jason blurted out to anyone.

“I’m afraid she left the manor, Master Jason.” Alfred answered carefully, gesturing to the wall of screens behind him to prove that he had watched her to do so on the security cameras.

No one tried to stop Jason when he bolted for his motorcycle parked at the bottom of the cave.

Dick gave Bruce a serious look once Jason was gone. “You need to talk to him once he figures everything out with Y/N.”

To his surprise, Bruce nodded in agreement.

And then it took Dick a moment to realize that Bruce looked like he was going to be sick, too.

“Master Damian, I think it’s time we get you to your room to rest.”

Damian just nodded and let the older man help him up the stairs.

Tim saw his cue to leave as well and helped them.

“She did it to get back at me,” Bruce blurted out once he and Dick were alone.

“I know.”

“He was just a kid.”

“I know,” Dick repeated.

“Y/N. She probably…she…” Bruce was struggling to think of what to even say about his daughter after what she just witnessed.

“She knew this family was complicated and messy from the beginning.”

––––

With the speed of which Jason drove his motorcycle, he made it from the manor to the apartment in a fourth of the usual time.

But he still managed to think of every terrible scenario he could be about to walk into.

Jason burst into the door, expecting to find Y/N packing a bag or even her screaming at him to get out of her apartment.

But he found neither.

The apartment looked as clean as when he left it before patrol. There was no sign of Y/N grabbing her things to make a run for it.

So he paused for a second to listen.

And he heard the sound of quiet whimpers coming from the bathroom.

Jason walked slowly, but loudly, hoping to alert Y/N that he was home and on his way to her. Making sure not to surprise and scare her.

“Y/N, it’s just me,” he said softly, right before he reached the bathroom door that was left ajar.

When he hovered in the doorway, he found Y/N sitting on the cold tile under the bathroom windows. Her arms were holding her legs tightly to her chest. Her eyes were red and still watery with tears.

Jason remained in the doorway, careful to keep his distance.

But he crouched down to be at Y/N’s eye-line. “Hey.”

Y/N couldn’t help but give him a watery smile, “Hi.”

“What are these tears for?”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “I shouldn’t’ve run out on you like that. It was just…It was a lot to process.”

Jason let out a short breath. “You can say that, yeah.”

“Are you OK?” She asked

Jason’s eyes widened, shocked at her question.

“You’re asking me if I’m OK?”

“Yeah, I should’ve stayed. I don’t know. My fight or flight response kicked in. And I just bolted. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, you have nothing to apologize for,” he insisted.

His eyes looked at the space between the two of them and it felt like miles.

“Can I…can come in?” Jason asked the question with his hands raised in some sort of surrender.

Y/N nodded.

Jason slowly moved into the bathroom and slid down the wall so he sat beside her.

If it were any other day, he would’ve pulled her onto his lap.

But he was waiting for his worst fears to come true: for Y/N to find him grotesque.

He whispered, “Can I touch you?”

Y/N squinted at him, confused. “Of course you can.”

Instead of overbearing her, Jason took her hand closest to him and intertwined their fingers.

But he was waiting for her to rip her hand away.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Y/N pointed out after a few seconds.

“What?”

“I asked if you were OK…”

“Honestly?” Jason looked straight ahead. “I’m waiting for you to hate me…”

“Hate you?!” Y/N blurted out. “Jason, how could I ever hate you?”

“I fucked the same woman as your dad, Y/N – the same woman that’s your half-brother’s mom. Everything about it is fucked up, OK? And I don’t blame you if it makes you never look at me the same way again. Or if you want to run for the hills.”

“Jason,” she waited for him to look at her. “How old were you when that happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled.

“Jason.” Her voice was firmer this time.

“19.”

“And how old was she?”

“I don’t know. Late 30s?”

“And do you honestly think you had any control over that situation?”

Jason didn’t say anything.

“All she ever did was manipulate you. Her father resurrected you to get into Bruce’s good graces. And then she brainwashed you, turning you into a killer who only thought about revenge." She shook her head. "Jason, Talia is twice your age… don’t you think she knew exactly how to get what she wanted from you – even if it seemed consensual?”

He still said nothing.

“None of that was your fault. You were a kid.”

And he still said nothing.

Y/N knew better than to push Jason Todd to talk. So…she waited.

She held his hand tightly and waited.

“I didn’t know who I was really,” he finally mumbled. “I was like a zombie. She brought my mind back. And then she trained me. I had never experienced any kind of – I don’t know…kindness? – from a woman before. I never once even considered that she was using me to get back at Bruce.”

“She took advantage of you, Jason. None of it was your fault.”

Jason nodded.

There was a part of him – buried deep, deep down – that knew Y/N was right. But that part had to fight through all his self-hatred and guilt to be heard. And that was something Jason would always struggle with.

And then a thought suddenly occurred to him. “If you’re not angry at me…why were you crying?”

Y/N shook her head. “I am angry. But not at you. I’m angry that Damian’s mom is a piece of shit, who robbed him of a normal life. I’m angry that she manipulates Bruce through Damian. But most of all, I’m angry for what she did to you.”

It made sense to Jason. All of them got teased for being protective over Y/N. But the truth was that she was just as protective of all of them – just in a different way. She wanted everyone healthy and happy. Emotionally and mentally, she was their protector.

“Just wish I could’ve given her a piece of my mind…” Y/N mumbled. “But I can’t go up against an assassin."

Jason ground his teeth at the thought of Talia laying even a finger on his girlfriend. “She’ll never touch you.”

Y/N let out a light laugh. “Yeah, well…. I’m not too sure about that.”

“You should be,” Jason countered. “I told her I would kill her if she even so much as threatened you. And she knew I wasn’t bluffing.”

Y/N looked at him, eyes wide and jaw slightly dropped.

Jason actually let out a dark chuckle. “Why do you look so surprised?”

Slowly, she whispered, “I don’t want you killing anyone for me, Jason.”

“I know you don’t,” he countered. “But I will if it’s necessary.”

Y/N wasn’t happy with that response, but she knew there was no changing his mind. So all she could was do was hope it never came to that.

Jason looked up at the window to see that it was almost dawn. “We should try to get some sleep. Tonight’s been a shit show.”

Y/N nodded in agreement.

Jason jumped to his feet gracefully to help her up.

——

Y/N woke up to her buzzer ringing repeatedly.

She was basically sleeping on top of Jason, with him holding her tightly to his chest.

“What the fuck,” she mumbled, still half asleep.

“Ignore it,” Jason mumbled. “Whoever they are can fuck off.”

But the buzzing continued.

Y/N managed to wrestle herself out of his grip.

“Noooo,” Jason whined.

“Such a baby,” Y/N laughed at him as she quickly threw on a pair of his sweatpants and one of his t-shirts.

She quickly walked to her buzzer and pressed the talk button. “Who is it?”

“Uhh. Hi.” Dick spoke back. “Mind buzzing us in?”

“I told you we should just use the key or climb the fire escape!” Damian managed to yell before Dick stopped pressing the button.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the chaos, “Come on up.” And she pressed the other button.

She opened her door to see if she’d be able to hear them. Lo and behold, it was a family affair. Dick and Tim were having a loud conversation. Meanwhile, Bruce was lecturing Damian about something.

When they finally reached her floor, they all gave her nervous smiles.

“Hi?” Y/N asked them, confusion clear in her voice.

“I told Damian it’s rude to walk in your apartment uninvited,” Dick explained.

Y/N laughed as Damian huffed and crossed his arms.

Then she noticed that both Bruce and Dick had big bags in their hands.

She asked, “What’s all this?”

“Bruce thought it would be a good idea for us to have breakfast together,” Tim chimed in.

Y/N gave her father a soft smile.

“What the hell is going on?” Jason walked behind his girlfriend, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Todd, have some decency and put on your clothes,” Damian scoffed as he looked at Jason, who was shirtless and with only black boxer briefs on.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Once again, this is our apartment, Demon Spawn.”

But Y/N still watched her boyfriend begrudgingly walk back to their bedroom to put on a pair of sweats.

“So…can we come in?” Dick asked.

Y/N blinked. “Oh my gosh! Yeah! Sorry. Not awake yet," and she stepped aside, opening the door bigger to let the whole family in.

Dick, Tim, and Damian started unpacking the bags on her kitchen counter, making her quant kitchen look even smaller.

Meanwhile, Bruce stayed back and hovered next to her.

“You OK?” He asked her quietly.

Y/N nodded. “Are you OK?”

“I learned how to deal with Talia years ago,” he answered darkly.

“You didn’t know, did you?”

Bruce hung his head a bit. “No. I didn’t know.” He lifted his head, concern in his eyes. “Is he doing alright?”

“I think so. He was more worried about me, of course.”

Bruce gave a small smirk. “Sounds like Jason.” Then he pat his daughter on her back, “Come on. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

When Y/N walked to her kitchen with him, her jaw dropped. “Bruce! You brought enough food to feed a fucking army!”

There were a dozen bagels along with cream cheese, a giant cardboard jug of coffee, a container of sausage and bacon, and various breakfast sandwiches.

But Bruce just shrugged.

The boys didn’t wait to dig in. But they did make sure to give Y/N one of the few chairs to sit on while they ate. The apartment was filled with conversation and laughter.

Y/N asked Damian how he was feeling, noticing how he refused to sit down, which probably meant that his back hurt enough that it was painful to sit back.

Damian, of course, just shrugged and mumbled something about being fine.

“Don’t worry,” Dick chimed in. “He’s not going on patrol for quite some time.”

The comment earned him a glare from Damian.

Y/N suddenly realized that throughout the chaos, Jason and Bruce had stepped away.

They were still within sight, but in the living room.

The two men were talking quietly.

But Y/N was worried a verbal altercation of some sort was about to break out at any moment.

So she was rather surprised when Jason and Bruce suddenly shared a hug.

Y/N wondered what was said between the two of them. But she wouldn’t ask Jason. That was for him to decide whether he wanted to share or not.

–––––––

𝙙𝙞𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙘𝙮 || orc!bucky x princess!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || you want to make peace with the orc army threatening to conquer your kingdom, but you only have one thing to offer their leader.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5.6k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || SMUT (18+ only, just like my entire blog!!), monsterfucking/exophilia, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), penetrative sex, painful sex (kinda but not THAT bad), housewife kink, degradation (not super hard, but it's there), the slightest touch of misogyny kink?, cum swallowing/cumplay, facial, creampie, breeding kink, discussions of war and death

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 || you know that song 'the boys are back in town'? yeah that but it's 'the whores are back in town'

"I thought perhaps we could end this war."

Standing alone in the orc chieftain’s hut, wearing a dress that gave away instantly that you were a princess, demanding a treaty. No one ever accused you of being particularly weak of mind or spirit… but even for you, this was a risky move. You just hoped that the hulking orc sitting across the tent from you– with his massive stature, surprisingly-bright blue eyes, and dark brown braids of hair falling around his tusked face– couldn’t see the fear running through your veins.

He didn’t seem to; he only scoffed incredulously. "Of course, I'd like that as well. Slaughtering your people leaves my armies exhausted," he smirked.

You hadn’t been expecting the warmest welcome from the leader of your enemies– Bucky, as they called him, a strange name to a human but pretty standard for an orc– yet even so, that seemed like a pretty low blow. You should’ve felt like you had the upper-hand wearing your finest silks while he only had on a loincloth tied with leather cord and some sparse jewelry, and yet somehow you were the one who felt exposed as his gaze penetrated you.

"Why should I consider diplomacy to end a war that I'm winning?" Bucky pressed.

"Because I have something of great value to offer," you explained. "I believe this war can be ended with a diplomatic marriage."

"Marriage?" he repeated with a raised eyebrow. "Between who?"

"Well, I…" you began nervously, looking at the furs thrown down beneath your feet; your gaze shot up after a moment when you heard him let out a deep laugh, one that made his belly shake and his braids swing as he tossed his head back.

"Oh," he realized aloud, "you don't mean… you and I, do you?"

You swallowed thickly. "I just thought perhaps—"

"You thought I'd be tempted by your weak little body, your royal lineage, your riches?" he spat. "Those things are of no matter to orcs. Our women are strong, brave, and independent. You… you're so… puny. Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, wielding power not because of your intelligence or fortitude or strategy but simply because you happen to be the daughter of the king. It's pathetic."

He kept laughing as you tightened your fists. "You think I'm not brave? I came here, didn't I? I offered myself to save my kingdom," you reminded him. "I moved across enemy lines, without my father's approval—"

"Stop," he demanded, and you choked on your next word as you fell into sudden silence. "The king hasn't sent you?"

"No," you confirmed. "He's… ill. He is too weak to manage the armies alone. His military advisor wants blood, he will not hear a word of peace. So, I ordered the guard to bring me here… I will not watch my people suffer any longer, if I can stop it."

He seemed to take that much more seriously than anything else you said.

"Please," you continued, "do not let the violent nature of my father's royal general poison you to humans. We are not such a brutal people, usually…"

"Do you mean to imply that we orcs are?" Bucky pressed.

"N-no!" you stammered. "I'll admit some humans believe that, but I came here in good faith, believing you wouldn't kill me even if you could."

"You've thrown yourself into the hands of the enemy, on a whim, against your father's wishes and without his knowledge…" Bucky reiterated. "Brave, perhaps. Or just foolish."

You chewed your lip as you stared down at the ground.

"You clearly know so little about our people," he continued. "Because if you knew anything you'd know that a tribal orc war chieftain marrying a human isn't very favorable for us. My children should be fierce and fearsome… being half-human might bring shame on them."

"Well, that's not fair," you frowned. "I didn't know orcs were so prejudiced."

"As if humans aren't?" he scoffed. "A half-orc might be looked down upon in orc society, but they would be killed in human society."

That, sadly, was true, and you couldn't deny it.

“But…” he began, and you let hope fill you again as you wondered if your plan for peace could really work, “you seem to have your head on straight, mostly. I mean, for a human…”

“I try my best,” you offered humbly.

“You don’t really know what you’re asking for, with this marriage you’ve suggested,” he continued. "Orcs mate for life," he reminded you. "You wouldn't be leaving me when the allyship is through, to find another husband from another kingdom next— some puny human boy your mother likes."

You nodded.

"And we don't take commitment lightly. You would be pledged to me for all your life, and me to you— not even death permits an orc to marry again or even lay with another."

"I understand," you nodded again.

He frowned. "You've heard all this and you still think a diplomatic union is reasonable?"

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek for a second. "Well… yes. My offer still stands."

He let out a bemused huff of air from his nose. "You're tenacious, I'll give you that," he smirked. "It's a shame I'm not attracted to humans or I'd be tempted to mate you."

Your heart ached when he began to deny you that way… but you ached somewhere else as well. "You've… never laid with any creature but an orc?" you wondered aloud.

He nodded in agreement, his large tongue darting out to wet his lips. "No— elves are too stuck-up and even if I could get past the looks of a dwarfish woman, with how short she is it would probably kill her to try."

He must've caught the way you bit your lip, your eyes darting to the loincloth over his lap for a moment, because his eyes sparkled as he smirked at you.

"You've only had human partners, I assume?" he pressed. You nodded. "Good… I don't think you could handle anything else."

"N-no," you stammered, "wait…"

"What should I wait for?" he asked with a raised brow.

"For… for me to think of something else to say, to try to convince you," you answered bluntly. He smiled around his long tusks.

"You are determined to end this war," he realized.

You nodded nervously.

"But you haven't even shown me what you're offering," he purred. "Take that silly dress off."

For someone who had been throwing yourself at him a second ago, you suddenly hesitated.

"What, you're not getting shy now, are you?" he snorted. "Undress."

Shivering at the forcefulness of his demand, you reached up and started to unlace your dress, awkwardly shimmying out of it and standing before him in your undergarments.

"Gods, you humans are so conservative," he sneered. "You cover your bodies with so many layers— we orcs really only need the one," he chuckled as he tugged his loincloth for emphasis. “Take off more, show me your body.”

Finally, you untied your chemise, and dropped it to expose your chest to the warm breeze blowing gently through the tent– it must’ve been that that made your nipples peak and harden, not the way his eyes were grazing over your form.

You let it fall the rest of the way, bare before him with the light fabric pooled at your feet. His lip twitched into the subtlest snarl as you stood in front of him. You reached up to begin to take off the golden tiara in a halo around your head, but he interrupted before you could even lift it away. "No, you can leave that on," he smirked.

For a moment you almost smirked to yourself, realizing he might not have been entirely honest before when he said human royal lineage meant nothing to him.

“Turn around,” he ordered, and you slowly turned in a circle, looking back at him as he shamelessly ogled your ass.

When you were facing each other again, he carried a glimmer in his eye that made your knees a little weak.

“I’ll admit, your body is… interesting,” he offered. “Human women have a certain charm to them– some orcs prefer humans as mates, I’ve never really understood why… especially the woman, there’s no way a human man can pleasure them the way we can.”

A shiver dashed up your spine. Your gaze watched his massive hands rub over his legs– you could only imagine how an orc like him would pleasure a partner, human or orc.

“So, this offer of marriage,” he recalled, “doesn’t bring me much strategic benefit.”

“W-we have resources,” you blurted out, “we control the coasts: we have ocean fish, pearls, whale’s oil–”

“Stop,” he frowned, “I already said I have no use for your riches. Pearls? You think that’s what I want, pearls?”

You awkwardly shrunk back into yourself as you realized your folly.

“No, I’m not interested in what your kingdom can offer me as an ally,” he asserted. “I’d rather learn about what you can offer me. As my wife.”

Just the phrase ‘my wife’ from his lips, speaking of you, made your heart stop for a moment. Before you’d hatched this plan you’d never even imagined being an orc’s wife– except maybe when you heard the sort of stories children were told to keep them to behave. Practice your table manners or you’ll have to marry an orc instead of a prince! Now, it sounded like a twisted sort of fairytale… not especially romantic, but so shockingly tempting and shamefully erotic.

"Why don't you come here and show me what a good wife you could be for me?" Bucky purred. "I've heard human women like to do strange things to their men. Pleasure them with their mouths, for example."

"Do orcs not do that?" you mumbled awkwardly.

"No, we like to keep things practical," he smirked. "But I wouldn't mind seeing how a human girl would pleasure her mate…"

You walked forward in just a few steps– he was taller than you even sitting down, and he smirked as he looked down at your doe-eyed expression. After taking a shaky breath you dropped carefully to your knees, reaching to the loincloth hanging at his waist. You tried not to react too strongly when you pulled it aside, but it's hard to hide your shock when you see an orc's cock.

Thick, impossibly thick, with a fat head and veins along the sides— it was laying on his thigh, still soft, yet you couldn't even fit your hand all the way around it when you tried to pick it up.

Gods, it was heavy too… you actually had to put some effort in to lift it. It felt more like a trunk than a cock; Bucky chuckled lowly at your obvious nervousness. "Don't be shy, human, this is what you came here for, isn't it?"

"Not exactly," you mumbled to yourself, leaning down to experimentally lick the very tip of it. It just tasted like skin, maybe a bit saltier than usual, but nothing too worrisome. Going back down again, you began to lick all over the head.

"Mmm," he groaned, deep in his chest. "You won't even be able to fit it in your mouth, will you?" You shook your head. "Try anyway," he encouraged.

You opened your mouth as wide as it could go, and just barely managed to get your lips around it. You let your tongue swirl over the skin inside your mouth, moving to take more… but even with all your might, you couldn't even get your lips past the ridge of his bulbous head— not when he'd become almost completely hard in your hand now.

So, you pulled back to lick a long, thick stripe from the very base up to the slit at the end. "O-oh," he groaned, "that's nice… maybe human women are worth the trouble after all."

You gave him more licks– some long and slow, others fast and short to keep him guessing– focusing on trying to taste every inch of him. He seemed to like it best when you gently pulled his foreskin back and licked the edge of where his head met his shaft.

After a while doing that, you dipped down even lower to lave his massive balls with your tongue, making him groan even louder as his hand reached down to squeeze your shoulder— the whole thing fit in just half of the palm of his massive hand. "Damn, princess, are you really so insatiable? You want to taste an orc's fat balls?" he grunted.

With your mouth wide open there was no way to stop your moan from slipping out when you heard those lewd words.

"I bet you're not used to being talked to that way. Princes and consorts, they probably just go on about how pretty you are, read poetry about how they've longed for you," he mocked. "You like this better, though, don't you? You like being reminded that you're just a dirty whore on your knees in my tent, begging me to marry you… well shit, this is the best proposal I ever saw," he smirked.

You suckled on the tip of his head again, blinking up at him and admiring the dark look in his eyes as he watched you. He seemed pleased by you looking up at him, even groaning through his teeth a bit.

"Mm, you'd make a good little wife, wouldn't you?" he smirked. "You love using your mouth so much, I'd let you lick my cock every day."

Let you, like it was a privilege. Why did that turn you on so much?

“Stroke it, princess– stroke my cock,” he groaned, bucking up his hips just a bit as you had to use both hands to try to jerk him off. It seemed like he had more fun watching you struggle to manage the size of him than he got from whatever sensations your actions gave him– that said, he certainly didn’t mind either. In fact, he started to pant out his breaths as you found a pattern of stroking the thick shaft of his cock while your mouth opened wide to lick over his tip. “Feels different than anything I’ve ever experienced before,” he continued, words thin with his breathing getting quicker. “Your sweet little tongue… your warm, wet mouth…” he enumerated, groaning louder. “Fuck, your lips look real pretty stretched out because of me. I bet your jaw is aching from trying to fit me, but it’s not your fault, your body just wasn’t made to take massive orc cock.”

And yes, your jaw was incredibly sore, but it was irrelevant compared to the ache between your legs. Watching him slowly fall into ecstasy because of your work made the most unique sense of pride warm your skin, and something about using your own small frame (at least, compared to his) to pleasure a body so much larger and stronger than your own was… exhilarating.

"Mm, I'm gonna come," he warned with a low growl. “S’that what you want, slutty princess? To make me come?”

You nodded and hummed as you took his head (or, most of it) into your mouth, slobbering all over it eagerly. His hips started to rock in his chair, not much but plenty to stuff your mouth– so full even your moans were stifled.

“Just don’t stop, little one, f-fuck–” he demanded, and suddenly as he let out a roar of a moan, thick ropes of come sprayed right into your throat; just a few shots filled your mouth so much that it started to pour out of the corners of your mouth, and when you gagged, more ran down your chin. When you leaned back slightly, it began to spurt out onto your face instead, in your hair and over your cheeks, just barely missing your eyes.

The last pump of his come ran in a long drip down his shaft; he sighed and sunk back into his chair, holding your neck with one hand (not too tight, just enough to keep you still) and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Without even being asked you sat up slightly and licked up the last drop of come, after you’d swallowed what was already in your mouth, and he let out an exhausted (yet impressed) laugh.

“Such a naughty little slut of a human I’ve got,” he praised. You whimpered needily when he leaned down and began to lick his own come off your face with his long, yet smooth, tongue– only to hold your mouth open and spit it all in there for you. “So fucking eager,” he grunted as he saw that glassy look in your eyes, realizing how cockdrunk you were and how much you loved having a belly full of orc come. It really was so much that you thought you wouldn’t need another meal today.

“Bucky…” you mumbled weakly reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

"Do human women like having their pussy licked?" he wondered aloud.

"Uh, generally…" you stammered out your awkward reply. He instantly picked you up to toss you onto his strategy table, brushing maps and compasses out of the way as he spread your legs open. Laying on the table and the look in his eye both made you feel like a feast he was about to devour. Even having already been coated in his spend, you felt sickly aroused by his massive hands holding your legs open, those blue eyes staring right down at your pussy as he licked his lips.

"I don't even know where to start with a delicious little cunt like this," he grinned. "I bet there are so many places that make you squeal and squirm… but the lucky thing is, I can just lick all of them."

And he did: with one flat lap of his tongue he easily coated your entire pussy, making you shake and moan as he slowly pulled his tongue up and did it again.

"Mm," he purred happily, "you taste sweet. Orcish women wouldn't tolerate being so vulnerable like this, or wasting their time doing anything but breeding. But I guess the rumors about human girls are true… you love to do all sorts of strange things– desperate little minxes. And I bet lots of you want big, mean orcs to fuck you even when you know it’s going to wreck your tiny cunts, eh?”

“F-fuck,” you stammered as he gave another long lick to your folds, this time making your body shake when he brushed right over your clit. “I-I don’t know, I just know that it feels so good when you– oh gods– when you taste me like this…”

“Yeah? What about if I fuck you with my tongue?” he smirked, diving back in to suck on your swelling bud while he pushed his tongue right inside your hole.

“Oh!” you yelped, feeling your channel stretch to fit the appendage– it vibrated inside you, just a bit, when he let out a pleased moan, and it made it feel even better.

His tongue was shockingly thick and long, and his tusks brushed against your inner thighs: this was nothing like being pleasured this way by a human man. Even his tongue thrusting into you felt like being really fucked; you whimpered and arched your back, grabbing your hands onto his braids just to have something to hold onto.

"Fuck, you're naughty," he smirked. "An Orcish woman would never grab a man's braids— they're sacred."

"O-oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend—" you began your rushed attempt to apologize.

"No, I like it," he assured. "Reminds me that you're just a dumb little human girl who has no idea what she's getting herself into."

Oh, you really shouldn’t have liked being called dumb. When anyone else questioned your intelligence you were inspired to nearly go to blows over it. But now, it just made your cunt get wet, betraying your real desire.

“I should make you come like this but I’m just too impatient,” he admitted with a grin, sitting back in his chair with legs spread wide in a show of casual confidence. "Come on over here and take my cock inside you," he instructed. "It didn't fit in your mouth but I bet it'll fit in your cunt."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'll make it fit."

Oh.

You got up on weak legs from his table; you approached him and delicately placed yourself on his lap, straddling his legs. You watched your hands reach up to his shoulders, then run down over his chest which rose and fell with slow breaths, then over his round belly– and the muscles you felt beneath his thick shape. He chuckled when you bit your lip.

“Takes a truly wanton little human woman like you to appreciate a body like mine,” he announced proudly. “I’m not skinny and lean like those little boys you play with in the castle. This is a man’s body.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“You like my belly, princess?” he prompted with a tilted smirk.

“Y-yeah,” you breathed.

“You wanna ride my cock? I’m still hard as fucking steel for you, little one.”

“Please, Bucky,” you whined, and his massive hands grabbed your hips to guide your entrance right over the head of his cock. You swallowed thickly when you felt for yourself how massive he was compared to your little hole.

“You’re so tiny, I might rip you in half,” he warned with a smile.

“I don’t care, just– just take me,” you whispered, mouth falling into a gasp as he pulled you down and shoved his head inside. “Oh,” you choked, neck going limp and head going back, “f-fuck, Bucky…”

“My little princess,” he chuckled deeply. “My sweet, tight little princess…”

As he pulled you down to take more, your hands clutched at his thick biceps, just beneath the golden arm band he wore there. You winced and whined through your teeth, trying to focus on anything but the pain.

“C’mon,” he grunted sharply, “just a little bit– more–!”

He yanked you down again and you cried out. "Ohhh— I can't, I can't!" you shrieked. "You're too big!"

"No, princess, you can take it," he promised with a tense moan through his teeth, pulling you down further as you struggled uselessly against his grip. "You're gonna take my whole dick, no running away now— not when you came here shamelessly begging me to mate you. You're gonna take all this fuckin' dick and you're gonna scream so loud that the whole camp knows you're nothing but an orc's whore."

With one more ruthless thrust he filled you, and you let out a sound you could hardly believe was your own: a broken, pathetic cry of agony. Your whole body quivered, soothed slightly by his fingers tracing down your back.

After a moment, the pain began to fade and the fullness started to comfort you; you sighed slowly and he smiled at you. “See? Knew you could take it. You’ve got all of me inside you now.”

He leaned back in the chair and let go of your hips.

"Go on, lift that ass up," he instructed with a smack to your cheek for emphasis. You found just enough strength on your shaking legs to begin to ride him, still struggling to work through the pain, and making him let out a long, low chuff of a growl. "That's it," he smiled. "That's my little human whore."

You started to pick up the pace a bit when he said that, whimpering more as the sting of the stretch mixed perfectly with the building pleasure of being filled to the brim (and then some).

"Damn, you're too desperate," he groaned. "Look at you bouncing on my lap— what a pretty thing you are…"

His thick fingers trailed over your cheek, down to your chest where he pinched your nipples until you whined loudly. He smirked and grabbed your waist next, dipping his fingers into the curves of your body.

"Such a tiny, delicate little thing. But you're tougher than you look— here you are taking an orc cock like a champ. You're sure you haven't done this before?"

"Not with someone so… big," you moaned.

"Gods, who knew the innocent princess was really such a dirty bitch," he purred, making you whine again just from the degradingly wonderful effect his words had on you.

The thick, spongy head of his cock speared right into your spot– something about being opened up so wide seemed to make everything more sensitive, that must’ve been why your thighs were already shaking from more than just the effort it took to lift yourself on top of him.

“I love when you bite your lip like that,” he admitted; you hadn’t even realized you were doing it, and your hands weakly clutched tighter at his muscular chest. “That pretty little head of yours is empty, isn’t it? And all you can think about is how good I’m fucking you right now. All you can do is wonder why you didn’t start letting orcs fuck your tight body sooner.”

The constant assault of his words in combination with the unignorable feeling inside you made it all so perfectly overwhelming, and you moaned shakily as you started to bounce faster.

“Shit, you’re having way too much fun riding my cock, princess,” he chuckled with another hard spank to your ass that made you whimper pitifully. “You’re supposed to act all innocent and hesitant, like you can’t imagine being claimed so intimately by a filthy, savage beast.”

“Y-you’re not a beast,” you managed to stammer out.

“Yeah? What am I?” he smirked.

“You’re my… my enemy,” you replied, “in war.”

“And I bet that turns you on even more than the fact that I’m not human,” he wagered.

You didn’t really need to tell him he was right, because the fact that you were obviously close to coming was answer enough. “Oh, Bucky, I–”

“I know, little one,” he cooed, “I know, I can feel you about to come– I can feel it in this tiny little cunt. You’re about to come all over my dick.”

“Yes!” you agreed with a deep moan.

He grabbed your hips tightly, to help you ride and to just stabilize himself. “Come for me, human whore,” he demanded in a grunt. “Show me how much you love my cock. Say it.”

“I love your cock,” you panted, “I love your huge orc cock, I– oh gods–”

It was so strong, so sudden, you were afraid to let it take you. “Just let go,” he groaned under his breath, “I’ve got you.”

And that was it. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" you screamed, shaking as a powerful orgasm ripped through your body.

"Gods, that's good," he grunted, fucking up into your body as it went limp on top of him. "I can feel your tiny little pussy coming around me. Oh, princess, are you crying?"

In fact, you were; tears were streaming down your cheeks involuntarily, pleasure so powerful that you just couldn't fight it back.

He grabbed you and began to lift you up and down, bouncing you in his lap, using your body like a toy. "Shit, you ever come that hard before, baby?" he smirked. "Oh, you haven't… you've never felt anything like this before, huh? Never had a strong lover to really take care of you? And you're never gonna want pathetic human cocks again… now you need to be an orc's mate to be satisfied."

He lifted your legs up and nearly bent you in half, forcing you to ride him in this new position that gave him a full view of your pussy being stretched impossibly wide by him. The way he manhandled and manipulated your body however he wanted made your eyes roll back in your head— that, and the way his thick cock stroked your overly-sensitive walls.

“I’m gonna marry you, little princess,” he moaned. “I’m gonna make you my mate, and I’m gonna keep this tiny human cunt of yours stretched out– I’m gonna make it mine so I can use it whenever I want.”

“Oh, gods,” you choked.

“You’re not gonna have time to get tight again, ‘cause I’m gonna fill you with my come every fuckin’ day– hear that, baby? I’m gonna ruin this weak, pathetic body. ‘Cause it’s mine now.”

“Y-yes, yours,” you repeated.

"If you're gonna be my wife then I might as well knock you up now, right?" he grunted. "What's stopping me? I know you won't stop me, you're drooling at the chance to be filled with orc come."

"Come in me, Bucky," you pleaded, proving his point, "f-fuck I wanna be… pregnant…"

"Oh, you want little half-orcs in your tummy?" he laughed. "It might break your tiny body to carry my seed. A fragile human womb is no match for an orcling, especially mine… my whole family is big like me."

"I can take it, I can have your babies, p-please just come inside me," you whined.

"Don't worry, little one, it wouldn't be a proper engagement if I didn't," he grinned, moving your hips faster on top of his lap. "Gods, I don't care if anyone thinks I shouldn't breed a human— I'm the chieftain, after all, I can fuck whoever I want." He started to fuck you faster, rougher, as he continued: "I can marry whoever I want. I can have half-orc babies with whoever I fucking want."

"Hhnng," you choked helplessly, "B-Bucky…"

"Our children might be a little smaller or weaker than if they were full-blooded orcs, but they're gonna be the prettiest creatures anyone ever saw— your cute little human face, your delicate features making them look so soft and sweet… whole tribe's gonna wanna marry our babies, princess," he smiled proudly. "Not just the tribe," he corrected himself, "every orc that ever sees them will be begging us to put bridal braids in their hair."

"Oh, fuck," you groaned as you tossed your head back, overwhelmed by his words. You'd never craved something in such a primal way before, and now you couldn't remember any desire but to be pregnant with Bucky's precious half-orcs.

"Do you feel dirty, princess, being bred by an orc?" he asked roughly, thrusts into you becoming even more erratic. You hoped that meant he was close because your body couldn't take much more.

"No," you shook your head, "no, Bucky, it feels s-so good… breed me, Bucky, Chieftain, wanna be full of your come—"

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth, "it's coming, girl, I hope you're ready."

"Yes, yes, fuck yes—!" you slurred, eyes shooting wide open when he gave you one massively deep thrust— right into something so deep in you it made your whole body convulse.

Warm, sticky come flooded into your channel… it would've been enough to overflow out of you right away, except that his thick cock kept you plugged up so tight that there was nothing for it to do but make your belly swell.

"Mm, fuck, my little princess," he groaned proudly, voice deeper than ever. "So full of her chieftain's seed she can't even fit it all…"

You thought it might never end— the pulsing of his cock, the swelling of your tummy, the filling of your womb…

You collapsed forward onto his body, eyes fluttering shut as you panted with your cheek pressed against his skin and the sheen of sweat that covered it.

He wrapped his arms around you and in one embrace had enveloped your entire body with his. Eventually his cock began to soften and he carefully lifted you off of it, shushing your whimpers from how it made your cunt sting with soreness. When he finally pulled out all the way you felt an empty numbness, yet soothing relief, and relaxed further into his all-encompassing grip.

"You wanna be my little human wife, princess?" he asked gently. You nodded against his chest, hearing his satisfied hum echo inside it as his thick fingers brushed over your hair so gently. "Mm, you're gonna look pretty with my tribe's braids in your hair, and wearing the beads and robes of the chieftain's wife," he sighed, "not that you're gonna be wearing much of anything for the first few weeks. If an orc can't have his mate bearing children in the first year of marriage, his masculinity might be called into question."

But you couldn't imagine anyone questioning Bucky, with his huge muscles and overbearing frame.

"Of course, it could've already happened now," he remembered with a grin, lifting one of your legs to watch your gaping hole leak out his thick come. "Hmm, you look real pretty with that cunt beat up just right."

"Bucky…" you whimpered pitifully.

"Yeah, princess?"

"M'tired…"

"Oh, I'm sure, being an orc's human whore must take a lot out of you," he winked. He picked you up with ease, standing up and carrying you draped in his arms. "I'll take you to my bed, hm? Would you like that?"

You nodded weakly and he continued. What you hadn't realized, though, was that his bed wasn't in this tent, and he was carrying your limp, naked, come-coated form through the camp for the entire war party to see.

At this point, you were too exhausted to protest or even to care. They probably all heard you screaming his name anyways.

Some of them clapped and cheered as they saw Bucky carrying his quarry through the camp; some of them murmured their disappointments that the chieftain would dirty himself with a human plaything.

Finally he brought you through another tent's opening, this one lit dimly inside by only a few candles and adorned with finer rugs than you'd seen since you left the palace, and laid you down in a soft, massive bed of furs.

"Get some rest, little one," he instructed. "You will need to recover as much as you can before the wedding tomorrow."

His Voice

Pairing: Dark!Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: You thought you could escape him, how had he found you? And why now after all this time? He’d sworn to never use the voice  on you when he was still your Paul, but that obviously changed just as much as he did…

Warnings: Violence, Death

Word Count: 1539

You had no idea how you ended up running for your life. 

  You’d woken up and your entire village was in flames, smoke was painting the sky in a grey colour but the red and orange flames that encompassed your village evoked fear amongst you and your people.

 Dashing out of your tent, you immediately sought out the Chief of your village. Maneuvering your way through tents, you finally located the Chief’s tent; slightly larger than yours but still represented the equality that your tribe thrived on.

  You batted the tent flap out of the way and stormed into the spacious area, only to gasp and have your eyes widened. 

   The Chief was nailed to the wooden pole in the centre of the tent and it looked as though he’d been dead awhile. His eyes were staring lifelessly to the floor and he sagged almost comically in his place. 

  Slowly and cautiously, you approached his corpse and raised a shaky hand to grasp his cheek in a tender hold. You pressed your foreheads together and bid his spirit a safe journey to his next life, wherever that may be.

  You didn’t linger though, coming to the conclusion that whoever did this had a connection with the fire and was most likely still within the village.

  Grasping the knife you always kept tucked into your sleeve, you made your way out of the tent and ventured towards the camp’s centre. You were practically running but always checked around you in fear you’d see another dead body of one of your kin.

  But then you froze because a phrase left a bellowing voice you never wished to hear again.

   “Behold! Your Emperor, Paul Atreides and kneel to him.” Duncan Idaho, second hand man to Paul Atreides and his most loyal puppy. You detested the man after he killed your little sister years ago and swore that when you crossed paths with him again, you’d kill him with the very blade he’d gifted you.

  You couldn’t dwell on the past right now though, you needed to reach the crowd before people started dying, because you knew without a doubt that your tribe would never kneel to Paul.

  Paul, who used to be so kind and pure, is now corrupted with his need for power and universal domination. You’d both been so close once and now? He’s second on your to-kill list. A fact you deeply regret, but must exist for your kin’s protection and your own.

  Slowing as you neared the commotion, you crouched by a tent just before the clearance and scouted from behind.

  You saw a massive Ballista that had lowered itself onto the grassy floor of your planet and tried to spy how many enemies you’d have to somehow eliminate before the inevitable happens. 

  Your darting eyes stopped and settled on the lithe form of a young boy. Over the past few years, he’d definitely grown and he certainly suited this dark role he’d adopted.

  Though you’d never admit, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him and an indescribable sense of longing consumed your very core, but you refrained from any brash movement you might have made had you not bit your tongue. 

  He stepped majestically onto the grass and seemed to study each one of your tribe as he spoke. “A certainly lovely planet you have here. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.” He began walking slowly towards the crowd gathered and had a thoughtful look on his face.

  “And you know full well why this planet would become useful in the future, don’t you? The natural and raw energy cores deep within your mountains are truly a delightful source of money.” 

  In the distance, you began to shake with anger, sensing where this was going.

  “Which is exactly why I claim it as my own.”

  That caused an uproar amongst your people, they began shouting in anger, some in fear but mostly in caution. Someone decided to speak head on and you braced yourself should this turn violent.

  He went straight up to Paul, causing his guards to raise their weapons but Paul dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and glared at him with a ferocious scowl. “How dare you come here and demand such a thing? This is our land, not yours! We were here first, not. You.” He accentuated this by jabbing Paul with his finger, a grave mistake.

  Paul glanced down at the slightly shorter man and narrowed his eyebrows.

  “Kneel.” 

  The man fell to his knees in an instant and regarded Paul with a slightly dazed look. He smiled down at him and mockingly petted his head. 

  Then Paul addressed the mass group of people almost cowering before him and repeated his command, “Kneel”.

  They too, fell to their knees. You watched in silent horror and rapidly tried to think of a solution to the dire situation. How could this have gone wrong so quickly? 

  Remembering when Paul first became a monster, you distinctly remember hearing him say he’d never use the voice to get anything that he could take so easily. He said it was a waste of breath. He’d said that before demanding you accept his proposition to become his Empress. You declined resolutely and ran away before his brain could catch up with your denial.

  “Sleep.” 

  Another command, one you weren’t affected by but felt the power emanated within it.

  He was silent for a minute, gazing down at the floor before his attention turned towards your direction. You abruptly crouched behind the tent and prayed to whatever God was listening that he didn’t know you were there.

  Whatever hope you had died when he chuckled maliciously. “Oh, (Y/N)? Come on out, darling. There’s no point in hiding now.” Of course you didn’t move but found you had no choice when none other than Duncan Idaho grasped you in a crushing hold and all but hauled you over to Paul.

  You screamed and thrashed and tried to stab him with your little blade but he greatly surpassed your strength. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! Let me go, you bastard!” You yelled.

  You reached Paul quicker than you’d realised and immediately tried a different approach. For the past few years, you’d been practicing how to use the voice specifically for a moment like this. Glaring at him you opened your mouth and stated your command.

  “Let me go, Duncan.”

 He dropped you to the floor and his arms hung loosely by his side, before he knocked himself out of whatever daze he was in and went to pick you up again but was stopped by Paul.

  He had a proud look on his face that made you want to kill him all the more. “Been practicing I see. Any specific reason?”

  The bastard knew why you’d been practicing but decided to taunt you nevertheless. You conjured up what saliva was in your mouth and spat directly at his shoes, huffing indignantly. He huffed out a laugh and readjusted his posture to a more boyish and casual one.

  Raising an eyebrow, he questioned, “Now is that anyway to treat your husband, (Y/N)?”

“You are no husband of mine, you monster! Our marriage died the same day you did!” you said and prevented the tears that were gathering in your eyes from spilling, out right defying to show any more signs of weakness.

  He narrowed his eyes at you and one of them twitched.

  “Get up.” You shot up.

  “Stand here.” You stood next to him.

  “Kiss me.” Your lips connected in a ferocious kiss that would surely leave your lips bruised.

  It lasted a few seconds before he softened it and pulled back slightly. He raised his hand and stroked your cheek to gaze lovingly into your eyes. “There we go, haven’t you missed that?”

  You blinked rapidly and had a full body shudder before retreating swiftly a few metres. “Don’t ever take advantage of me like that again.”

  “Don’t aggravate me and I won’t have to, although I’ve noticed your resistance is stronger, little one.”

  Once again, you shook with rage and went for the knife in your sleeve only to slump to the ground and surrender to unconsciousness after he said, “Sleep, (Y/N).” 

  He shook his head fondly at you and knelt down to pick you up delicately. “Whatever will I do with you?” Then he turned to Duncan and signalled for him to burn the village and its people to the ground. Duncan saluted and immediately his soldiers went about lighting it up in flames.

  Paul walked up the ramp to the ship and sat down on one of the seats and set you up against his chest. He brushed a hair out of your face and bent down to kiss your forehead. He pressed his to yours and vowed, “You will never leave me again. When I’m done with you, you won’t want to.”

  Then the ship took off and they were heading back to his empire back home. He couldn’t wait to start reshaping you into his wife, empress and soldier. His to love, his to cherish, his… forever.