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bisquid · 2 years ago

Note

Wait wait you can't just drop that off and not elaborate. What do you mean is there a mafia presence in Wales?? Please spill, what things did you notice??

Okay so bearing in mind that I have ADHD and Chronic Terrible Observational Skills:

I am in Cardiff

For a concert I am attending solo

Doors open at 5

4:15 ish I go 'hmm I should eat something'

Cardiff is - unsurprisingly, being tiny and yet home to FOUR concert venues - Very Busy

Find McDonald's

McDonald's is very full. I recall my last concert related McDick's experience, and promptly bounce

Directly across the street

Is an Italian restaurant

It looks closed but fuckit maybe I can beg for like. Bread or some shit

Go over

Am immediately pounced upon by the hitherto unnoticed chain-smoking woman hanging out by the door mostly hidden by a potted ficus(?)

"I was wondering if you were open and if-" "yes yes we are open what would you like?" (strongish Italian accent)

Inside restaurant is Deserted

Explain that I'm sort of in a rush, am assured it's fine

Order chicken milanese which is generally a pasta dish with a breaded chicken component

Am led to seat nearish the front and promptly provided with a pint of coke in a glass tankard

Am then provided with a front row seat to an absolutely incomprehensible series of people entering and exiting (and in one case walking directly into) the door to what I can only presume is the kitchen

Starting with the guy who had been sitting at a table chain-smoking over a pile of papers

I counted at least three people exiting at least twice without actually entering in between

Am finally brought food

It is a breaded, butterflied chicken breast approximately the size of my face and a small pile of pasta approximately the size of my fist

It is all delicious

Chain-smoking papers man reappears, now wearing a chef's apron labcoat thing

Go up to pay, chain-smoking ficus lady is now having a very loud argument in a language I did not recognise but was not Italian Welsh English French russian Gaelic or Spanish

She sees me, says, and I quote 'ah little girl lost, one moment' and promptly hangs up

I am 27 and only nominally female

I am not remotely lost

She charges me for the pint of coke but not the food

I try to point out that she hasn't charged me for the food

'do you want to pay for the food?'

'.... Not if I don't have to?'

'good'

I leave. The door is now full of half a dozen very tall very Italian men and one absolutely adorable cocker spaniel

I ask if I can pet the dog (I have my priorities straight okay)

I am allowed to pet the dog. The dog and I are now best friends

The dog lead holder asks me in extremely accented but impeccably correct English if I had enjoyed the food

'yeah it was great!'

Everyone laughs a bit

I smile and pet the dog and realise I'm now late for the concert and hurry off

I see a post on Tumblr about mob fronts and several connections are made in my brain all at once

#i have impeccable observational skills #but only in hindsight #or if it's wildlife

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chow0w · 1 month ago

Text

(Re)Designing a winglet! - part 1/7

Hello my beautiful blog readers, happy Wednesday!

While going through my procreate files, I found a jumpscare of an old drawing I made from a winglet I created in 2020. Looking at your old artwork is never fun, but it did give a good idea: redesigning all of these characters! Now that I've improved a lot, it will be cool to see how I can upgrade these designs and characters. I don't remember much about them, so I'm going in as blind as you!

For any artists following my work, these weekday posts are going to be a great time for me to explore my process as a designer/writer + the tricks I use to transform characters!

I REALLY do not want to hear a word about this old art. I can't believe I'm posting it. yes in hindsight it's not that bad but like omg. Sorry about the image quality throughout this post - a lot of these are cropped photos so they're very blurry.

To start off, here's the old character I want to redesign first!

I literally only have his name to go off, but based on first impression this guy seems annoying. He's giving me the energy of someone with high ego and low grades, and his name (Ficus) references Figs. The first thing we should do is fix his headshot, and try to emulate the qualities we know about already!

Identifying key features is important: his frills, eyebrows, smile and horns stood out to me the most because they seem to be what show his personality.

This is so much better! I amplified the key features we just found, and used my knowledge of shape to create consistency in his design. Ficus' expression also got an upgrade, and he looks much more natural in this mid-conversation pose. He reminds me a lot of that cocky snake from the Sahara (If anyone watched that as a kid).

Reading into the name, figs can often symbolize new growth or development - which gives me a lot of ideas about this character! Maybe Ficus is a dragon who starts the story as cocky/self-righteous, but unlearns his bad habits and becomes a more enjoyable person. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just gets worse as the story goes along - he's proven right one time and turns into an even more insufferable classmate.

It's important to think about group dynamics when creating a character, especially if they operate in a group setting. Does Ficus get along with his classmates? Do they like him? Do they know how to cooperate, and how does that impact their performance in times of crisis? I would argue that group dynamics can be one of the most influential aspects of a story: they don't just dictate the plot, but the tone of your story and how your audience reacts.

Here's my complete sketchpage for Ficus! I added a full body doodle so we could get a better reference of how he looks, as well as a small sketch of him lounging in a hammock and talking about how great he is. I'm going to leave this uncolored for now, but I might come back to it later!

Thank you so much my returning readers + all of you who made it this far! I love talking about art and WoF so this really is a win-win for me. To anyone wondering about the redesigns, those are still happening! I plan on releasing them over the weekend as larger batches, so these conversation posts are just here to fill my blog during the work week. I always love hearing what you guys think of my designs, so don't hesitate to let me know! As always, my askbox is open to redesign requests + general questions or comments!

( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

#wings of fire #wof #art #character design #oc #rainwing #wof rainwing #wof oc #wof oc art #artist #wof redesign

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

Note

Sanne can we get a part 2 for reporter!reader?? Picking up where it first left off their first night in the same home - and there's only 1 bed! - and reader shares the bed with him with the promise of not looking at his unmasked face in the middle of the night? And like them realizing over the next few days that they have very similar habits like tendencies to work throughout the night once they've got a lead and not having a set sleep schedule/unconventional sleeping hours.

OKAY HERE WE GO! be fed my lovelies <3 didn't exactly do one bed but hopefully you like it anyway ;) pt 2 of this

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. nightmares, hurt/comfort, jason sexy mf todd being a domestic dreamboat. 2.4k. pls enjoy

****

The Red Hood's apartment is... not at all what you expected.

It looks lived in. It, as awful a thought as it is, looks like an actual person lives here.

And it's not that you didn't know that Hood has a life outside of shooting and scaring, but the giant ficus and the overstuffed bookshelf seem paradoxical to everything you know about Hood.

You're realizing that you don't know him at all.

"So, uh." Hood awkwardly gestures to the apartment. "This is it. Welcome."

"It's nice," you say, stepping over the threshold. "Really nice. I'm a little jealous, Red."

"What can I say? Being public enemy number one is surprisingly lucrative."

You wander to the kitchen. There's a picture of him and a red-headed masked man who looks vaguely familiar. The man is smiling, his arm around Hood. There's a city skyline behind them you don't recognize.

"Where's that?" you ask. You don't expect him to answer.

"Morocco."

"I didn't know you had friends," you say, studying the Welcome to Vegas! magnet that's holding up the picture.

"Ouch."

"No, I—" You turn, shaking your head. "Sorry, no. I meant, like, people you do fun things with."

"Mm, yeah, I know what a friend is."

"Red, you know what I mean. I didn't know you took selfies and kept plants and read."

"Thought I was friendless and illiterate, huh?" He leans against the kitchen table, fist tucked under his helmet. "Y'wouldn't be the first."

"Hood—"

He snorts, shoulders shaking. You stop.

"That's not funny," you say, rolling your eyes. "Jerk."

"It's a little funny. You're always so sharp with your words, smartypants. No, while I'm very literate, friends are admittedly far and few. Arsenal's my closest friend."

"Is he also a crime lord?"

"Nah. Way better guy than me."

You look back at the picture and wonder how often Hood gets to experience joy. And when was the last time he had a vacation?

You feel a gentle tug at the back of your jacket.

"C'mon. You can snoop more later, promise. Lemme show you your room."

Hood takes your suitcase before you can protest. You follow him down the hall. There's one door to the bathroom—the other is to a single bedroom.

The bedroom is nice, bigger than yours at home. It's sort of what you expected (i.e., the mounted katanas on the wall) but also not (a giant framed poster of the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film).

Holy hell. You're in the Red Hood's bedroom.

"Hood, I can't sleep here," you say, watching as he puts your suitcase in the corner.

The bed has been made, sheets tucked in without a single wrinkle. They're in various shades of red. You're sure Hood thinks he's hilarious.

"Why? If the swords are putting you off, I can move 'em."

"No, it's—I can't take your room, Hood. There's no way I'm doing that."

He shakes his head. "No, trust me, it's for the best. That couch is only comfortable to sleep on after a dose of painkillers."

"Dude, I am not making you sleep on the couch in your own house."

"Well, dude, I'm the host, and I'm the big and scary Red Hood, so what I say goes."

"Like either one of us actually believes that," you say, brushing past him to grab your suitcase. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed. It's–it's very sweet of you to offer. But you physically exert yourself every day. You need a comfortable bed more than I do. Besides, it's not like I'll be here for long."

Hood steps in front of you, casually blocking your exit.

"Well, try this on for size: my room is more secure than my living room," he says. "If someone were to break in, they'd have to get through me out there first."

That... is, unfortunately, a good point. You're still extremely paranoid after the assassination attempt two nights ago.

"You're so manipulative, y'know that?" you grumble, leaving your suitcase where it is.

"I know. I come from a real fucked up family." He doesn't sound too put out by it.

"But if you get injured on patrol, I'm sleeping on the couch."

He pats your shoulder. "'S cute you think you can bargain in my house, smarty."

****

Dinner goes well. Hood makes beef bolognese and it's delicious. You take an extra long time in the bathroom before bed so Hood has enough time to eat, considering his refusal to remove his helmet. You'd offered to blindfold yourself—he'd just laughed.

"Sure you don't want your room? It is, after all, yours," you say when you come out, fresh from your shower.

Hood glances at you briefly from where he's washing dishes. He's out of his jacket and suit, now only in jeans and a white t-shirt. Your face feels hot for some reason.

"I'm sure. Cute robe."

"Oh." You look down at the Wonder Woman robe your friend gave you. "Thanks. Got it for my birthday."

"I'll have to get myself one too," Hood says, drying a glass with a polka dot tea towel. "Big Wonder Woman fan."

"Yeah? We solve this case, and I'll get you all the robes you want, Red."

"Tempting."

You chew your lip as you watch him clean up. "Want any help?"

"Go to sleep, star reporter." He sounds amused.

"You try to be a polite guest only to get shot down..." you mumble.

On your way to Hood's room, you get distracted by a pile of documents on the coffee table. You stop, picking up the corner to read one. They're about the case, about all the labs that might be involved in the experiments.

Well... you can read just one. It seems like Hood's compiled a lot of information on his own.

You stand for a bit until your legs grow tired. Then you sit on the couch, making notes of what you do and don't know on a nearby writing pad.

"Did you get lost?"

Hood's watching you, leaning against the wall. It's weird to see his bare arms. His very sculpted, muscled arms. You think you peek a tattoo on his bicep.

"My attention was caught," you say, unrepentant. "Anyway, there's a lot of stuff I haven't seen. You've been holding out on me, Red."

"'S just theories, mostly. Didn't feel it was relevant to mention without hard proof."

"Ever hear of a work-life balance?" you ask.

Hood walks over and joins you on the couch, making the cushion dip. You bump shoulders briefly, before you move.

"Look who's talking, Pulitzer prize," he says.

"That's a very reasonable goal, and I'm not obsessed with it. You're just a workaholic. I have activities outside of wo—oh my God, work!"

You shoot up from the couch, panicked. "Fuck. Fuck! I haven't shown up in two days! I'm—"

"Hey, easy," Hood says, propping his socked feet up on the coffee table. "I called you out. Said you had the flu. No biggie."

"How did you call me out?"

He shrugs. "Pretended to be your boyfriend. Girl on the line was kinda rude about it. Didn't believe me at first."

"Red, I believe we've talked about these invasions of privacy."

"I'm just fulfilling my host duties. Is it true you haven't taken a day off in two years?"

You sigh. "Yes, okay? Fine. I'm a workaholic, too. That's why Jane, the secretary you spoke to, was so sassy about my having a boyfriend. It's pretty unbelievable."

"That's ridiculous. You could totally get a boyfriend. Some guys don't mind that."

"Like you?"

Hood tilts his head in acknowledgment. "Sure. Like me."

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly most men."

"And thank God for that."

You look at each other for another moment. Hood's tattoo is in clear view now: it's a bird surrounded by flowers. You can't tell the species of either one.

"Cool tattoo," you say, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth.

Hood turns his arm so the ink is hidden. "Thanks."

"Right." You start to walk backwards. "I think... I'm gonna go to bed."

"Sure," he says. "If y'need anything, holler."

"'Kay. Thank you for dinner. You're a great cook."

"You flatterer."

You smile. "Gotta stay in the Red Hood's good graces."

You start to walk away.

"Do you—waffles?"

You stop and turn. "Sorry?"

"I, uh... do you like waffles? For breakfast," he says. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. Nervous habit.

"I love waffles for breakfast."

Hood nods. "Great. Good. Then I'll... we'll have those."

"Please don't wake up early just to make breakfast, Red."

"You're my guest. I'll do whatever I want."

You don't recall the prospect of waffles ever making your heart hammer in your chest. Weird.

"Right. Well, goodnight," you say.

"G'night, smarty."

****

You turn the case details in your mind over and over. It's better than thinking about beef bolognese and peeks of skin you shouldn't see and how Hood's sheets smell like lavender.

But you fall asleep thinking about robins. You don't know why. You can't recall ever seeing a robin in Gotham.

You're on a rooftop. It's the roof you met Hood on, all those months ago. There's a robin nesting with its babies on the crumbling bricks.

The sky is a sick shade of green. You see horrible faces in the shadows on the roof.

That face from the night of the attack returns. He's hideous. You remember the stench of his breath, the way his eyes bulged. He grins at you across the roof.

"He should've killed me when he had the chance," he says, voice distorted.

You look around. The robin is gone. Blood drips from your stomach.

You turn and your attacker is there, inches away. He plunges the knife into you again and again. You can't move. This is it. You will die.

You wake up to wet cheeks. You're hot, and you're screaming. You've died.

A cool, rough hand grabs your arm and you fight because you can't die, you won't die. Not today.

"Hey. Hey, hey! It's me, 's J—Hood. It's Hood."

The room is almost entirely dark, save for a sliver of light from the cracked curtains. You can't make out his face. His voice is different. Clearer. He's without his helmet.

You reach out and feel soft hair. The curve of a neck. A bicep. A warm, bare chest.

"Sure, honey. Cop a feel if that makes you feel better," he murmurs.

Your face screws up and you start to cry.

"Shit," Hood whispers. "Shit, shit. Can't get the comforting thing right, can I?"

The bed dips with his weight. Arms wrap around you. You launch yourself into those arms, that solid chest.

"He g-got me in the dream," you choke out. "He killed us, Red. I'm so scared."

"Nobody's getting me or you. I promise."

Hood's jaw is smooth. His hands are big on your back, rubbing circles. His bare knee bumps yours.

You clutch him tighter. He hums.

"'S okay," he says. "It's alright. I got ya. He can't hurt you. I'd tear apart anyone who tries."

He lets you cry for several minutes, petting you all the while. Hood's body is warm, almost unnaturally so, but his hands are cool. He engulfs you completely.

You wonder what color his hair is. His eyes. What shape his nose is. His... lips.

"God, I'm a terrible guest," you mumble after you've caught your breath. "Fuck. I'm so sorry to wake you."

He hums, the sound going through your chest. "Don't worry. I don't sleep much. And you're not the worst guest I've had. My brother stayed with me for a few days last month. That was hell."

"You have a brother?"

"Four, actually. And a sister."

"Wow. Do they know you're...?"

"Yeah. It was a whole thing. They're over it now."

"Cool family."

Hood grunts. "They're... something."

You smile and close your eyes. "You're not who I thought you were, Red."

"Yes, I know. Friendless and illiterate."

You pinch his side. He clucks his tongue in response.

"Cheeky," he says, the gravel in his voice shooting down your spine like lightning.

You pull back, suddenly aware of how long you've been touching him. Hood lets you have your space, scooting to the edge of the bed.

"You know what I mean," you say, glad it's dark and Hood can't see your wide eyes. "Not like that."

"I know. You thought I was a monster, ugly and alone, sleeping in a cave."

Blindly, you reach for his face, feel the shape of his jaw, his chin.

"Doesn't feel like an ugly face to me," you say quietly.

He exhales like you punched the air out of him.

"Trust me," he says. "The dark hides a lot."

You frown and pull away. "I didn't think any of those things, Red. I thought... I thought you were one-track minded. Now I realize that you're probably better adjusted than I am."

"Oh no, I got issues. Believe me. Definitely more than you. Not that it's a competition. 'Cept if it was, I'd win."

You smile. "Title is all yours, big guy. Gotta be a little crazy to do what we do."

"Sure. But you're the bravest soul I know. 'Cause you weren't forced into this. You hunted down the story yourself."

"Brave or stupid?" you ask.

"Brave. But it's a fine line."

Nope. It's definitely more stupid than not, clinging to the Red Hood in his own bed in the name of a case.

What are you doing?

"Ah, anyway." The bed shifts as Hood stands. You can just barely make out the shape of him. "You probably won't be going back to sleep any time soon, huh?"

You sigh. "No, probably not. Please feel free to take back your bed."

"Nice try. You, uh... like hot chocolate?"

"Oh. Yes, I do. But you don't have to do that."

"I've been awake," he says. "No trouble. C'mon."

Hood walks to the door and opens it. Light spills out and for a moment, you have a clear view of his back.

His hair is dark and wavy. His back is covered in silver scars and fresh bruises, broad and muscled. You can see the tendons shift as he walks out.

The Red Hood is a man. Made of flesh and blood. Carved, more like.

Your belly flutters. Fuck.

This is no longer just you working a case. And you're about as far from an informant as anyone can be.

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Red Hood x reader #Red Hood fanfiction #red Hood x you #Jason todd fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #red Hood imagine #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #jason todd x yn #red Hood x yn #gender neutral reader #inbox #blurb

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

Look, Don't Touch 6

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: mondayyyyyy

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

“Captain wants you nice and clean,” Steve says as he removes the cuffs from your wrists. You’re as good as vibrating with excitement. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with the sergeant.”

“Yes, Captain,” you breathe.

His lips curve, only slightly, and his cheek dimples. He grabs your arm and walks you down to the bathroom. He nudges you through the door.

“Don’t come out until I say so.”

“Captain,” you face him. “I’m not afraid of Bucky. You don’t have to--”

“He’s done enough,” Steve gently pushes your further in. “Now, let’s get rule one out of the way. When I give you an order, you do it. No arguments.”

You blink, “Yes, Cap--”

The door snaps shut before you can finish. You stare at it for a moment. Your natural stubbornness is at odds with the glee of your victory. It’s kinky, isn’t it? Steve giving you orders. The way he’ll use you like an object. That’s everything you’ve dreamt of and more.

What makes you even wetter is that Bucky lost. Fuck him. That guy has an inferiority complex the size of his ego.

You sigh and turn around. Is this how women feel when they’re giddy? Are you swooning?

You turn on the bath and let the water pour out into the porcelain. Would Steve fuck you in here? You would like him to break you against every surface of this place before all is done and said. And what does that entail? You’re not that worried. You’ll die happy if that’s what it comes to.

You lower yourself into the hot water. As soothing as it is, it only underlines all the damage Bucky’s done to you. Nothing you can’t handle but still. That fucker has issues.

You hear his return. His voice irks you. Puts the tension back into your muscles. You should be so bothered by the Winter Prick but he really is annoying. If you cared, you might ask Steve why he even bothers with the rabid dog.

You close your eyes as their voices come closer, their footfalls too.

“Buck, please, I gotta clean all this up--”

“Steve, you’re making a mistake. She’s a criminal--”

“I’ll deal with her.”

“How?”

Silence.

“How?” Bucky repeats.

“She’s my problem, Buck.”

“Pfft, sure. You’re not really going to do this, are you? She’s of her fucking skull. She’s been breaking in. Do you know what she did in your bed?”

“Yeah, I do, pal,” Steve counters. “And I'm gonna do worse to her. So go. You’re done here.”

“Steve--”

“Buck. I asked you to water the plants. Look at that ficus? It’s about to die.”

Bucky sighs. You know it’s him because he’s so damn pathetic. There’s a thump then a clamour of steps. The front door slams and Steve chuckles.

You stir the water and smile to yourself. You’re not one of those dreamy girls, wishing the captain would save you, but it doesn’t feel too bad. It makes you a little tingly to have him send away that idiot. All for you?

There’s a tap at the door, “almost done in there?”

“Yes, Captain,” you preen back as you sit forward. Shit, time to make yourself human.

“Ten minutes. I want you waiting.”

“Yes, Captain,” you echo.

You are thorough in your scrubbing. You feel tainted. More than usual. Fucking asshole had his hands all over you. You clench at the thought of what he was about to do when Steve walked in. Stop that.

You pull the plug and stand. You dry yourself off on the mat. The door swings open. You flinch, startled at Steve’s sudden entrance.

“Let’s go. Time to get your uniform on.” He says.

You squint. What does he mean? Well, whatever he wants. Maybe he’s into some freaky ass roleplay. You could be the cadet and he’s the captain...

He points you down the hall, back to the front room. You almost sigh in disappointment. You’d prefer the bedroom. Still, if he wants to fuck you on the couch like one his sluts, you’ll go for that.

You slow as you look around the apartment. It’s still a mess. You suppose it will take some time to restore it to its previous tidy perfection.

“On the table.” He says.

You think he’s ordering you onto the table and a thrill flows over you. As you follow his command, you’re disappointed. You find a pile of clothes waiting for you. Not a military uniform, something worse. You sift through them; a dress, stockings, satin and lace lingerie. Heels!

“The hell is this?” You mutter.

“When you address me, you will speak clearly.” He looms behind you. “And you will speak to me with respect.”

You hesitate but shrug.

“Stand up straight. Ladies don’t slouch.”

You turn to look at him as you hold the flimsy underwear. He tilts his head as his hands go to his hips. His eyes are icy. It’s hot but the context is lacking. You don’t want to dress up like some fucking lady.

“And they smile,” he warns.

You stare at him. Alright, this is actually getting weird. And that’s you saying so.

“You know what, I’m not sure--”

“Rule one,” he marches at you.

“Ah, jeez,” you drop the underwear as he seizes you. He twists you around and bends you over the table. You purr. “Oh, Captain, that’s what I’m talking about.”

He huffs and swipes up the underwear. He leads one of your feet through, then the other. He rips them up and jerks you away from the table. He swats your ass with a growl.

“Get dressed. Now.”

You push yourself up slowly and grimace at the wall.

“Yes, Captain.” You mutter.

“I can’t hear you,” he cuffs your head. Alright, you’re starting to get pissed.

“Yes. Captain.” You enunciate.

You hook the bra around you. Really? You’re a sports bra enthusiast. This is a ledge. Your tits are going to spill out at any moment.

You ignore the garters and reach for the dress. He tuts, “everything.”

You roll your eyes at the wall. You don’t know. You’ve never put this shit on. Garter belt first, then the stockings. He sighs again and clips the lacy tips himself. Christ.

You grab the dress and pull it on. Not much better. The dress is shorter than you like despite looking like an old lady’s. You face Steve and shrug. He steps forward and ties the strings by the collar in a bow. You miss your tee and jeans.

He points to the shoes and you put them on. They are too small. Not to mention too high.

“Perfect, now, I’ll have to get you some makeup and probably some hair pins but you’re already looking better,” he grins and squeezes your arms. “You’re all ready.”

“Oh yeah?” You perk up and reach for his chest. He draws away. You drop your hands in disappointment.

“Yep. Better get to work,” he looks at the chair and the tarp and everything else. You cross your arms and curl your lip.

“You want me to... clean this up?”

“You’re questioning me again,” he puts his hands on his hips as he faces you. “You made this mess.”

“What-- no, Bucky--”

“You broke in, sweetheart. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? To be Cap’s best girl?”

You nearly gag. That’s nasty. Still, you figure you can play along if it gets you a little something. Your eyes stray down to his pants. You never expected to get this close, can’t blow it now. You only want to blow him.

You wobble around on the heels. It’s ridiculous. You start by folding the tarp. You’re sure to keep as much of the mess on it as you can. You drag it to the bathroom to dump in the tub. Ugh.

“I told you to smile,” Steve says.

You look back as he fills the doorway. You force a smile and go back to rinse off the plastic. You fold it up and carry it out. Then you start on the front room. God, Bucky is ruining your good time even when he’s not here.

You’re not stickler. Your apartment is a shithole so you don’t put much into keeping it tidy. You get all the clutter up and look around.

“You’re not done,” he scoffs, looming. “Well?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“The couch. Fix the blanket, fluff the pillows. Still got sweeping, mopping, dusting, vacuuming...” he lists off the exhaustive list of bullshit.

The only thing that keeps you from snapping it the promise of him. You get through this and the Captain will have better orders. Maybe you can get down on your knees and polish something else.

Sweat forms on your brow as you go through it all. You take a break, leaning on the mop, and tug at the collar of the dress. It’s damn hot.

You look over as Steve tilts his head, watching you as he leans in the doorframe. His hand is on his crotch. Now that’s what you’re talking about. You smirk and his brow arches.

He turns and marches away. What now? Can’t he just get to it? Bucky got you all worked up and now--

No, you don’t want Bucky.

Steve comes back. He has something else in hand. He unfolds it.

“Put this on, honey.”

You rest the mop against the wall and take the apron. You tie it on as you stare at him. “Sure I can’t do anything else? Hm?”

“Maybe, keep going,” he insists.

You hide your chagrin as you snatch the mop. You go back to your cleaning. Friggin bullshit but you expected worse. You expected to be choked out by now.

You sense him following you. He’s like a drill sergeant. He points out when you miss a spot and makes you go back over what you didn’t do right. You sneer at the floor as his shadow trails you around.

All at once, he’s in front of you. You’re surprised to find his dick above his pants. You stop as he pumps himself furiously. He spills onto the floor in front of the sponge mop and you back up. He grunts and groans in his release.

Is he cumming all over your clean floor? Better yet, cumming over you cleaning his apartment dressed like some oppressed housewife? He’s fucking weird.

“Goddamn, you look so good in that dress,” he puffs as he lets go of his dick, his hand shiny with cum.

His lashes flick open. You grip the mop and stare. He glances at his hand and back to you.

“Well, clean it up,” he holds out his slimy palm.

You squint then look around. You take a step and he clucks.

“Nope,” he shoves his hand toward your face. “Clean it. With your mouth.”

You cringe and he brings his other hand up to flick your ear. You flinch and whimper, “ow.”

“Captain says clean it up.”

“Yes, Captain,” you grit out.

You lean in and brace yourself. You stick your tongue out and drag it through the salty, sticky smear. It’s hot when you think of it but still sickening. You’re a freak. You always wanted to taste him but you hoped it wouldn’t be from him playing with himself. You’d prefer maybe some yourself.

Before you can get all of it, he covers your face with his hand. You jerk back but can’t pull away. His other hand wraps around your head and he wipes his cum all over your face. He pulls you close as he drags his touch down to your neck.

“Take the dress off.”

He lets you go. You chew on the order before you eke out the response. “Yes, Captain.”

You peel off the dress. He swipes it away. You go to wipe your face and he snaps his fingers.

“Leave it. You’re not done.”

He grabs the mop and holds it out to you. You take it reticently. You swallow down your protest. Just be cool. You can do this. He’s working up to it. It’s foreplay.

As you wash the floor, you flash back to the videos. Those nights of you watching. Him rutting behind a woman as she clings to the couch. Smacking her ass as he threatens to break her back. Only this time, it’s you.

“Good job,” he praises. “Now, time for breakfast.”

You nod and he stares. You search his face. “Oh, you mean... me?”

“Well, what else is a woman for?” He nears and taps your cheek. “Bacon, egg whites, and rye toast, sweetheart.”

He takes the mop and marches away. You look around the apartment. Nice and tidy. At great effort too.

You slowly cross the room and enter the kitchen. You’re no cook. You throw ramen in a bowl and add water or eat yogurt straight from the container. This is fucked.

You go to the fridge and open the doors. Hm. Where to start. You take out the eggs.

“You gonna ask me how I want my eggs?” Steve appears in the kitchen door.

“Yes, Captain, how do you want your eggs?”

“Omelet. Remember, white only.”

“Captain,” you flip open the carton.

“You should start the bacon first. Eggs cook fast.”

“Right.”

He sucks his teeth, “you should be able to figure this out, sweetheart. It’s in your blood.”

You look at him and scrunch up your nose and eye brows.

“Smile,” he orders again. “Don’t make me tell you again.”