#so pLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND ME AS MANY AS YOU WANT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buckys-dollface · 2 years

Text

𝑴𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒊𝒕𝒚 [𝑩.𝑩.]

Pairing • Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary ● You are in a loveless marriage that has made you bitter, until you met Bucky. Two souls connected, they say misery loves company, well you and Bucky mold perfectly together, seamlessly, trying to escape your demons and search for anew.

Warnings ● 18+ MDI. Infidelity, depictions of manipulation, possessive!bucky, mentions of murder/violence, the husband is literal trash, oral sex, unprotected p in v (this is fiction ur life isn't), voyeurism, allusions to DA.

A/N ● I will most definitely write a follow up to this. I have an idea in mind, so if you enjoyed reblogs and comments are appreciated.

And feel free to send asks about this mini series 💕

You should feel bad. Any normal person in your situation would be wretched with shame and guilt, but you aren't any normal person. Your relationship with your husband has been long forgotten, just two strangers shackled together with wedding vows and a commitment. If you could get away with it, you would have tossed your wedding ring in the ocean like you've seen in movies, but people talk in your small suburban town.

To much of your dismay, it's a constant reminder that you are his and that's final.

Until recently, of course.

You hadn't always felt this way, you would like to remind yourself. You tried to remember what it was like to be in love with your husband but it seemed like everything he did rubbed salt into the already deep wound. There were too many fights and harsh words layered on top of the “I love yous” you used to whisper at each other entangled, lustfully.

You recall one night about six months ago, that your husband had actually agreed to attempt date night. There was a swanky new jazz bar downtown had caught your attention and you had mentioned it to your husband. Being the good husband he was, he wanted to take you out purely for appearances.

You had guessed, though when he was a 1 hour late, your ‘doting’ husband had recalled where he needed to be for the evening but sent you a sorry-ass excuse by text.

“Sorry babe, working late.”

You sighed and took a sip of your vodka soda. You nodded your head at the bartender in gratitude as he departed. Your face twisted in the bitterness of the alcohol and how this evening was going. Not that you were expecting a happy evening. Hell, you've played pretend for the majority of your life at this point, it's gotten to the point where myth and reality were jumbled, and it's hard to tell which was which. You sneered at yourself.

"Too stiff for ya?" The brunette man down the bar remarked. You chuckled to yourself as you lifted your head at the sound. His voice was gravelly and sent a tingle down your spine.

You snickered. "I guess you can say that."

Your eyes glanced down the bar and you practically gasped. One of New York's most well known mafia bosses was speaking to you in the dimly lit jazz club.

"Ya know, if he fucked up your drink, it's not a problem to get it remade." He said almost as if it was a decree.

It was then that you became a little too aware of your surroundings. Your eyes darted around and noticed well-dressed men stationed at every exit. Those must be Mr. Barnes’ men. Your anxiety started to rise as you felt the intensity of his stare. You don't know this until later, but this wouldn't be the first time Bucky took notice of you. He knew your husband was a piece of shit and a sweet little angel like you needed takin’ care of.

"I have to be honest, Mr. Barnes-” Your words began to tumble out of your mouth quickly. You were shell shocked and mesmerized by his silhouette begin a few feet from you. Bucky got up and strode over to you. He stood behind you and you took notice of his hot breath on your skin.

“Bucky, please, sweetheart.” He insisted as he took notice of your face in the mirror by the bar. Your eyes never left Bucky’s intimidating steel blue ones. You wanted to be swallowed whole by them and wade in his oceanic irises. "What's a pretty girl like you, doing here all alone?"

Your breath almost hitched. "I was supposed to be meeting my husband." The words lingered in the air for far to long and begged for an explanation. "But he told me he was working late, it's cute that he turns a blind eye to the fact I know he's sleeping with the secretary."

Bucky tsks at your revelation. Disappointment caressed his features, you deserved better. You will get better. "Oh is that so?"

"Uh, yeah." You mumbled. You began to feel soft sultry kisses on the side of your throat upwards to the shell of your ear. You could feel the scruff of his beard brush your skin as he nibbled your ear lobe. “Good because that means you're free this evening, and I can't wait to spend it between your thighs.”

“Oh-I” You quivered. This is wrong. You knew it was wrong in every way but your brain didn’t want to argue, or maybe it was your pussy taking over the reins.

“Sweetheart, if you wanna play the good wife, you can, but you ain't foolin’ me.” He whispered in your ear, his gruff voice made you shiver. You noticed his hands gravitate to your thighs as your red sequin dress rides up. Your breath hitched as you felt him press in the backside of you, his erection hard and thick.

“Get your courage up and drink this down.” He lifted your rock glass to your lips and you drank from it without hesitation. “Let's have some fun.” Bucky insisted, his hand awaiting yours. You shouldn't go, you know you shouldn't. But where is your husband to stop you? He hasn’t given you enough reason to stay, and you were sick of playing pretend for a man who never treated you fairly. It's almost as if you were rigged from the word go. A smirk grew on your glossed lips as you rose from your seat and grasped his hand.

“Good girl.”

It's been six months of secrets. Your illicit affair was your lifeline, while the rest of your world was poisoned with delusion; your relationship with Bucky was the most fundamental thing you had endured to date. You felt safe and secure with him, despite the fact he was a mafia boss. You never had to question his loyalty to you, he ensured that. It took him great lengths to get you, so he wasn’t going to risk losing you now. But you still were scared, you were ready for the other shoe to drop. You knew something this wonderful couldn't last forever.

Even more so, your husband is growing wary and suspicious of your whereabouts. As much as he is dismissive of you, these emotions are privately contained. He acts like a good husband in front of friends, family, and public spaces. It's almost like your husband was putting on a mask and would interchange them depending on who you were around. If you thought about it too long, you weren't sure if you truly knew who your husband was as an individual. You did know he withheld darkness, but at what depth it went to, you weren't sure.

It's almost like you're married to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

A couple of days ago, Bucky called you, and insisted you spend the night at his townhouse in Manhattan. “C’mon, and meet me in the city.” He whispered to you. “I need you, angel.”

And in typical fashion, you went— like always.

What you didn't realize is that you had been tagged, and a PI had been following you during your entire trip. Your husband had hired one of the most well respecting PIs behind your back and ordered him to document any incriminating evidence that could deem you as breaking your wedding vows. Your husband was very wealthy man and if his money was going to anyone it sure as hell wasn't you. He had his suspicions like you did yours, but he need to solidify it with cold hard proof.

You had a key to the townhouse so you slipped right in. It felt like a nice release, a fresh breath of air entering the townhouse. You shuffle in the kitchen and notice a handwritten note on the island.

Be back soon, my angel. There is a present for you on the bed. Love, Bucky

A smile gleamed over your face as you read his note. You almost floated into the master suite, and saw a sleek black box wrapped in a red ribbon. You unwrapped it carefully and admired what was inside.

A blue set of lace lingerie and a note that says “wear me.”

A smirl spread across your lips and you slipped into it without a second thought. The way your fingers grazed the laced as your admired your figure.

Damn your tits look great in this set.

Inspector Barber shuffled in the bushes trying to master a good angle. Awaiting, watching what it seemed like a pot begging to boil, he stayed crouched down, his eyes lingering, admiring your beauty. He had almost the nerve to fuck you against the California King-sized bed himself. You were tempting, like the apple in the Garden of Eden and the longer he watched, the more his cock twitched. Almost out of no where, the garage door opened and your mafia boyfriend sautered in almost carelessly. Bucky couldn't wait to get his hands on you.

Bingo.

Andy huffed out a long breath. Partially relieved to have his target in sight but also grateful he didn't get caught with his hand almost down his pants.

"God the way you devaste me, doll. You're like a damn hurricane and I'm a simple boat at your mercy." Your eyes glanced up at the daunting silhouette peering in the doorway. All you could do was chuckle; what a charmer, you thought.

You slowly shook your head, “Alright, killer. How do you want me?” You teased as you strolled towards him, your eyes never left his steel blue ones. His firm gaze was broken into a sudden smile.

“With a glass of wine in hand, lounging on my couch as I make you dinner,” he suggested as a smirk spread across his lips. “There will be plenty of time for us to play later, babydoll.”

“Or so he says.” You retorted, as you playfully roll your eyes.

“Alright, angel, don’t start actin’ hellish.” He chuckled as he led you into the living room. Fifteen minutes later, you were found lounging on his plush sofa, a glass of róse in hand as you and Bucky spoke about each other’s days. It was nice and peaceful. You breathed in the aroma the spaghetti bolognese he was making. It smelled divine. It seemed as though you were in a trance as you gazed at Bucky humming; your feet floated to the kitchen.

“Oh my god this smells so fucking good, Buck. Who taught you how to cook?” Usually, you and Bucky would go into the city while you were with him. As a mafia boss, Bucky had connections everywhere it seemed, and you would enjoy your time with him a private club as an form of escape. Typically wearing his favorite dress— the red sequin one you met him in.

But tonight, Bucky insisted on cooking for you; he told you, you deserved a lovely meal prepared for you, just as long as you brought dessert. He gets pretty needy for something sweet and tasty after dinner and you are more than happy to cure his insatiable cravings.

A smile graced his lips. “My ma did, she was fantastic at cooking, well she was fantastic at everything to be honest.”

You were flush against Bucky, his back against your front, hands roaming around and making light work of feeling his corded muscles. You began to press light kisses on back and traced upward his spine making Bucky flutter from the inside out. A small smile broke out and spread across his lips.

“Just couldn’t wait, angel?” He muttered as you began to untie his Kiss the Cook apron. It unraveled beneath your fingers and feel briskly to the ground. You soon found your hands grazing his prominent bulge. You always found it ironic that Bucky called you his angel because you truly were the devil most of the time. Especially when it came to teasing your brooding mafia boss. A shiver wracked through him as he let out a subtle hiss. Within moments, the stove was off, dinner long forgotten. His chest was flush with yours as your fingers found his zipper with ease and went to tug his dress pants down. You both made quick work of removing his clothes until he was just in his briefs. Your lips molded with Bucky’s, never missing a beat.

“Let’s run away.” He insisted between heated kisses, sucking your skin allowing for bruises to start to bloom. You felt your fingertips caress the cheek, and your eyes met him, “Need you to be with me always, doll.”

“Why?” You murmured. Your eyes widened as you felt his movements come to a halt. The moment the word leaves your lips, you regret it. Remorse began to fill your heart. Your stomach twisted slightly in the wake of his words. He owned all of New York. Men would bow down at his feet, begging, pleading for his mercy. Why would he leave that all behind? It couldn’t just be because of you?

“Because I don't want to feel like you need to hide in the shadows anymore. I want to be with us to be together, openly, freely.” Bucky knows the situation. He understands your husband isn’t a saint, but he also understands the gravity of your marriage to him. He could kill him. He always had that wild card in his back pocket, but at the end of the day, Bucky realized that he needed you to trust him no matter what. He couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes with you divorcing your husband. He wanted you to have it all, which also included his money as well, even though you would never need it. Bucky would always provide for you without a second thought.

So he had to be patient with you and your feelings, as disheveled as they may be, but his patience was wearing thin. How couldn't go much longer seeing you unhappy.

"You know I can't do that." His hopeful expression faded almost instantaneously. Your words shock his nerves, you couldn’t go back to your husband, he won’t let you.

"What's holdin' you back, angel? I need to know." He insisted, his calloused fingertips grazed your arms and hooked around your neck.

“Bucky, I’m still married. You know that,” It was taking everything in his willpower not to roll his eyes at your absurdity, “I’m cheating on my husband and before you say anything, yes, I know he isn’t a good man but what we are doing isn't any better.”

Bucket kneeled before you; his eyes gleamed as he took in your figure. He kissed his way up your long legs to your delicious thighs. His kisses whispered things he didn't dare utter were felt on your heated skin. Your lace panties were soaked when you felt his hot breath on your clit. You ached for his touch, it almost made you want to surrender your inhibitions.

“Really? If our love is so wrong, tell me, why does it feel so right?” His eyes peered up as he began to lap away at your arousal. It did feel right; Bucky was the missing puzzle piece you had been searching for your entire life. Moans began to escape you; you could feel your clit throb as two of Bucky’s fingers plunged into your needy core. God damn it.

“Am I not the one you're dreamin’ of, my angel? Am I not the one you wanna love forever?” The words swirled in your ears and took residence in your mind. Bucky was everything you had dreamed of and more. You couldn't believe this figment of your imagination actually existed and was sucking the soul out of you at the moment. You were quaking in pleasure. His movements were hypnotic as he sucked and nibbled on your clit and pounded you with his digits. His pace almost seemed inhuman as he was attempting to lay claim on you somehow. The pressure was becoming overwhelmingly impactful, and with three simple words, you lost all your wits.

“Cum for me,” He grunted and your hot arousal soaked his fingers.

Oh, how it was painfully delicious to be submissive for you mafia boss, but something or someone was holding you back. As you came down from your high, he peered you at you with soft baby blue eyes.

“Let me fix it. Let me protect you.” He insisted, his glance became soft and self-assured.

“I don't know if you can,” You began to look away as you murmured.

“He threatened you.”

“No. I didn't say that.” You tried to reassure, your words coming out quick, almost as an automatic response you had committed to memory, “You didn't have to.” In an instant, all the composure he had withheld was swept away, with the glimpse of his favorite antique gun slipped from out of a kitchen drawer and into his hand. He went to retrieve his clothing when you shouted for him, “Bucky!”

Your voice echoed and his eyes darted up, “Please.” You begged, for what you, you weren't sure of, but you knew you needed him, here with you.

“You don't have to protect him anymore, he was a mistake, dollface.” He grasped your hands carefully and interlocked his fingers. You could feel the faint tracing on your wedding band that was glistening on your ring finger. “Don't let this wedding band chain you away forever, because I'm not going anywhere.”

His phone rang, and a hush feel over the room. Bucky’s eyes stayed locked onto yours as he went to answer his cell phone. You could hear a man’s voice muffled, front where you were standing. You guessed it was one of Bucky’s men but you couldn’t be sure. There was a small shift. The once intense passion that glistened in his steel blue irises had shifted to pure possession and feral protectiveness in overdrive. It was utter chaos.

You noticed his breath slow, “I see, thank you.” He mumbled. His tone thick and gruff.

And for a moment, a split second, Andy thought he locked eyes with the mobster. His breath became shallow, and his mouth almost agape as he scrambled to find his wits and his sanity at the moment. Shit. He clutched for his camera and made a clean break before your mafia boyfriend could smash and break his face in.

“You wanna finish what you started earlier, angel?” He asked in a teasing tone. A small giggle escaped your lips as you went to hop on his lap. Bucky made quick work pulling his leaking, red cock out. “Do you understand what you do to me angel? You have me at your mercy, always.” He slipped in with ease, and you couldn't contain the unwavering urgency to be filled by Bucky.

“I love you. So much.” You breathed out between pants, your tits bouncing with your momentum as his cock hit all the sweet spots within you. His eyes widened and he gave you a lopsided grin. It was a breathtaking sight to see you working yourself on his cock and taking what you needed, and rest assured Bucky had plenty to offer. His calloused fingertips tweaked your nipples as you clawed his muscular back. Red lines in the wake of your passion filled frenzy.

“Please-“

“Please, what angel?”

“Need you fill me with your cum.” You moaned out, the thought sending shockwaves to your core.

Bucky’s eyes met yours and you could see the shock and how unsure he was. You have never let him cum inside you before, but now? He saw the shift in your features. The determination and insistence that came with it. “You sure?”

“Please, James. I need to feel all of you, baby.” And that's when Bucky lost it. Entirely and wholeheartedly falling into a euphoric abyss with you wildly rutting on him. He quickly laid you down and entered inside you from a deeper angle as your calves both gripped his torso, begging for as much closeness as humanely possible. Skin slapping skin, Bucky trying to touch you everywhere at once. You felt your hands tug at his locks as he sucked bruises on your collarbone. His hands grabbed the meat of your thighs as he drilled into you. Your whimpers and cries filled the room and only got loud with the closer you felt yourself explode with immense pleasure only Bucky could give you.

“All mine.” He groaned in your ear as he spurts loads of hot cum inside of you. It was almost a cathartic experience, as the feeling overwhelmed you. Feeling so utterly full and constantly fulfilled as he still rutted into you through his orgasm. A wail escapes your lips as you felt the pressure snapped and stars shimmered behind your eyes. You were floating in serenity.

“My beautiful, beautiful angel.” He whispered as light kisses were peppered on your face, “So proud of you, doll.”

You don’t know how or when, but that bastard they call your husband won't know what's coming. Resistance was fleeting, and whatever comes to be you, you would be ready, swinging. Hard and heavy. You refuse to lose Bucky.

Sometime later, Inspector Barber had finally arrived back to his office after a job well done, for the most part. His SD card filled with evidence of your affair lingering there. As he stepped inside, he gave a curt nod to his receptionist who was answering a call. She smiled in response, “Inspector Barber’s office.”

"Put it on speaker," he mouthed to her.

“Who’s speaking?” The gruff voice questioned. Annoyance was relevant in his tone but it went beyond that. A reckoning was brewing.

“Mary, his receptionist.”

“Ah. Well, Mary please tell Inspector Barber if he wants to keep his life, he’ll destroy that hard drive. I won't be fucked with.” The line went dead without another syllable uttered. Inspector Barber's eyes widen and his blood ran cold.

This for sure wasn't going to end well.

Tagged: @writing-for-marvel, @gutflorizt, @tshsbitch, @ccmarvelxx, @cutelittlenightmaresworld

#marvel #marvel writing #bucky barnes smut #Spotify #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x plus size reader #mafia!bucky and his angel #mafia!bucky #bucky barnes

2K notes · View notes

minniepetals · 3 years

Text

Cry Me A River | Masterpost

— summary: forever is just an illusion, nothing lasts forever. don’t make me a promise that you cannot keep. please...it’ll break my heart

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff, poly!au, mafia!au, arranged marriage!au

— status: ongoing

— word count: 150k+

— warnings: (triggering topics! please read at your own discretion) childhood trauma, mental abuse, physical abuse, child neglect, manipulation, gaslighting, violence, mentions of assault, implied sexual assault, hurt and comfort, divorce, emotional neglect, minor character deaths, kidnapping, some emotionally unstable scenes

↳ there will likely be more specifics in certain chapters. just know that this series highlight some things that can be triggering to some

— please don't go into this thinking it'll be a light read. don't estimate the warnings

— if you happen to read this series despite the warnings and if there are certain chapters you wish to skip rather than reading because of the warnings, feel free to send me an ask if you ever wish to know the gist of certain chapters and i will gladly catch you up so you don't get confused on anything

one. the breaking | you tried so hard to be enough

two. the lie | a house made of cards, they lived in your beautiful fairytale

three. the promise | if you told them about the darkness inside of you, would they still look at you like you're the sun?

four. the gentle heart | keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you

five. the void | no matter how many times you read a story over and over again, it always ends the same

six. the puppeteer | father wanted perfection, you fell in love with disorder

seven. the trial master | the only way to get rid of a buried memory is to face your past

eight. the scarlet drop | you can wipe someone's tears but not their memories

nine. the game of chess | everything's burned down into flames and all that's left is you right in the center, unable to escape

ten. the abuser and the bystander | it hurts just as much knowing someone could have stopped it all but chose to stand by and watch instead

eleven. the thorns of a rose | loyalty means to have full allegiance and faithfulness owned by a duty, a pledge, or a promise. and the reapers' loyalty lies much deeper than that

twelve. the black rose | he loved you once, so hard, but taehyung has no right to begin caring for you now

thirteen. the broken | once someone's been taught to stay quiet their whole life, how do they learn to scream and shout for help?

fourteen. the hurting | you can break something in two seconds but it will take forever to heal

fifteen. the cruel and the fool | nothing hurts more than trying your absolute best and still not being good enough

sixteen. the second choice | an illusion of free choice, it will always be namjoon in the end

seventeen. the liar | hoseok lied about choosing you, namjoon lied about leaving you, but the biggest liar of them all is you

eighteen. the frightened ones | drowning in the middle of the sea means being blind and not knowing who is on your side and who wishes to pull you in deeper

nineteen. the snakes | you're left on your own to save your own self

twenty. the watchers | sometimes to not protect is the best form of protection

twenty-one. the apologies | how many apologies have you heard in your lifetime? too many to count

twenty-two. the pawns | when pawns are used well, they are the soul of the chess. you might as well take advantage of what you’re given

twenty-three. the unprepared | no one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain

twenty-four. the reckless | in the face of danger, you run right into it

twenty-five. the habits | you are a weapon and weapons do not weep

twenty-six. coming soon...

#bts polyamory #bts poly au #bts ot7 x reader #bts poly #bts mafia #bts mafia au #bts mafia!au #poly bts #poly!bts #bts poly!au #bts polyamorous #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #mafia!bts #mafia!bts au #bts arranged marriage au #bts masterpost

4K notes · View notes

opia-tarot · 2 years

Text

❁ astro observations ❁

placements I find sexy part 3 (18+)

=====================================

➜ venus-mars (especially the sextile). Charming people. They have the sexiest energy. They are so great at seducing people. Their sex appeal is so in your face. Ugh i love it! They’re also fucking enticing. You speak to them once and then it’s like boom. Clothes are gone😂 They can charm the pants off anyone.

➜ pluto-sun (emphasis on the square). Wow these people are so resilient. They are very intimidating. They’ll make you listen, their energy demands your attention. It’s a part of their identity. They don’t shy away from the taboo. I like how they pull you in the deep end. And how they use their passionate nature in whatever they do. I love it! If you can handle this then you’ll be transformed. Changed. You’ll have sex with them and the next day you’ll dye your hair and move to Mexico😂

➜ moon-mars. They have this underlying intensity. Like a timebomb, almost like you know they could explode at any moment. I like how they defend the people they love. These people are just raw. They aren’t afraid of shit. I love the animalistic nature of these people. Take it out on me🥺😂. Seriously though these people are very fucking sexy.

➜scorpio venus. They have this look. They can turn the charm on like it’s nothing. A flip of a switch and suddenly i’m stripping😭. You look in their eyes and you see their soul. I love these people! They make obsession feel so sexy. Anyone can be put under their spell. Abracadabra yourself into my bedroom please. Thank you😂

➜taurus mars. Sensuality is their middle name. Honestly they have this really grounded sexiness about them. Their confidence is so addictive. They. Are. Fucking. Determined. Oh you think you can tell them what to do? You can try but I can guarantee you’ll fail. They’re HOT. Just don’t push them to boiling point. SEXY! So fucking sexy!

➜ leo venus! They’re always so sexy! They give fur coat and martini vibes. They know their worth and they aren’t scared of being demanding😂. They have this glamorous sexual energy. Their movements are so sultry. Their style is so sexy too. Their appearance is important to them, so they really look after themselves. They ooze expensive.

➜venus/taurus 8th house. Oooo these people are f*cking seductive. They’re so fucking alluring. They remind me of the doja cat streets sillohette challenge. Remember that tiktok trend where you stand in the doorway and the red light is shining in the background? Yeah if you know you know. But these people are magnetic! So many people want them. Pick me🙋‍♀️ choose me💀

➜mars-neptune (especially sextile and conjunction). They move like they are sex personified. Sensual. Ethereal. They are so entrancing. I can’t take my eyes off these people. They have this magical bubble around them and it just grasps my attention. They are destined to be seen. Many people imagine all sorts of sexual fantasies about these people. Hypnotic people. They’ll be doing the most mundane task and i’m sitting there like 🌀_🌀

➜ scorpio rising. Staring pros. They stare until they get your attention. And you’ll feel it. Because you can feel their presence from across the room. They don’t need to do anything. They just wait. They know their energy alone is enough to lure people in. Every scorpio rising i’ve seen is a f*cking snack. 3 course meal. Prove me wrong. You can’t😂. Their stare feels like they’re stripping me layer by layer. Like yes give me a pure orgasmic experience just from your eyes.😭

➜mars-uranus (especially the square). Ahh these people are so fucking fun. The definition of brats. They loveeee to provoke and when you react, it encourages them even more💀 They’re so spontaneous. Sexually free. They’re non-judgmental too. You can be yourself around these people.

-————————————————————————-

♡ send me suggestions! I’m posting a general tarot ♡ reading soon. If you have any things you want me ♡ to do a reading on let me know.

No plagiarism!!

©️opiatarot rights reserved

#astro observations #astro notes #astrology

3K notes · View notes

swallowtailcherry · 2 years

Note

Hii ,hi how are you? I Hope you're doing well, i want to warn you about an anon that gas been sexually harressing people on Tumblr and sending nudes of girls and boys, please stay safe.

And i know this Is a really sensibile topic, but....could you please make something for Jack the ripper or Poseidon with a s/o that Is searching comfort from them After getting harressed?

Feel free not to do this,bye stay safe and Remember to take care of yourself

Seeking comfort after being harassed {Jack the Ripper/Poseidon}

Thank you for the warning! Everyone please be safe from those people.

1. I am sorry for this, but I'll do the physical harassment (I know this is a sensitive thing for those who have actually experienced this, so I apologise for possibly bringing back bad memories.)

2. My first time writing about Jack, please be gentle-

3. I'm writing for both of them because I feel like it.

4. Long as frick so get a snack lol

Warning: mentions of murder.

__________

Jack the Ripper🔪-

One of your friends had dragged you to a bar one night, insisting you needed to get out more. You didn't have any plans that night but you still refused. After some convincing, you agreed to go.

A few minutes in and your friend is already gone, leaving you by yourself at the main counter. You only took a few shots, but stopped yourself after the 4th shot.

Suddenly, some drunk guy sat next to you, resting his rough hand on your shoulder. He tried so many times to get you to talk, but you just ignored him and walked out the bar. You began your lone walk to your home.

Just when you turned a corner, hands began to caress your sides. You thrash in the guy's grip but he just held you tighter. You took out a small pocket knife and stabbed his leg. You took off the moment he let you go, running inside your house and locked it.

You had a hard time sleeping after that.

The next day, you refused to get of bed, let alone the house. This worried some of your friends and tried to ask you why, but you kept quiet, which led them to ask the friend who took you.

"I do not know. They just left without even saying anything." That was all they said. They decided to drop it once they realised their question won't be answered.

The next night, while it was dark, you heard a knock on your bedroom window. To your surprise, it was someone who you grew close to, Jack the Ripper. Your first encounter was when he was injured and you, a kind hearted soul, took him in, unaware of who he was. He originally wanted to kill you but seeing how kind you were, the thought of killing you soon went away.

"Milady, what seems to be troubling you?" He asked, his mixed eyes staring into your soul. Your dropped your head down low, refusing to let him see your tears. You wanted to lie your way out, but Jack would be aware of it.

"I-I was forced to go to a bar and this disgusting man touched me and tried to-"

"What did he look like?" You looked up, seeing the man's face turn to his usual murderous expression, but it seemed more dark.

"W-well, he had black hair and blue eyes and looks a little bigger than you. He also had some facial hair on his jaw." You described the man the best you could. Jack didn't say anything and disappeared into the night.

2 nights later~

Sweeping the floors of your house with a headache wasn't the best idea. After finishing off, you rested yourself on one of your chairs. You felt a piece of paper under your hand and picked it up. It was folded neatly and had beautiful handwriting. You opened it up and read the short letter.

I apologise for leaving you in your time of need, but I had to get rid of the beast who tried to corrupt you.

You felt a presence in your room and turned around, spotting Jack, twirling a knife in his hand. Without a second thought, you jumped up and hugged him. Jack held his arms away from you, not knowing what to do.

"You didn't need to kill him." Your voice muffled by his chest. Silence filled the room after you spoke.

"It was entirely necessary. I refuse to let them take your beautiful colours away."

Tears been to fall out, staining his shirt. Jack lowered his arms, slowly wrapping them around your waist.

He always thought he'd never meet a kind person, until life decided to let him meet you.

Poseidon🔱-

Being married to one of the most fearsome gods has its ups and downs.

One up is that you're the only one who can meet his gaze and live the next day.

One down is that he refuses to let you show affection in public to not ruin his public image in being perfect. (It does upset you, but you understand)

He sees you as his equal, so it isn't much of a surprise when another god stupid enough tries to have his way with you and he is informed.

This god won't leave you alone, even when you declined his invitation to accompany him.

"I told you many times! I do not wish to go with you!" You yelled at the persistent god following you.

It all started when he approached you and started a normal conversation. Then, he started getting a little too touchy with you, brushing his hand against your bare skin, his hands lingering on your shoulders and hovering over your chest for too long. That was enough for you to storm out and head back to your husband, the god you truly love.

"Come on, beautiful! I just want to know you better." The god exclaimed, grabbing your wrist. He pulled you closer to him, smirking victoriously when he saw your frightened face.

"I don't think she feels the same way." A familiar voice chimed in. The god froze in his spot, giving you the chance to wiggle out of his arms and step away from him. You felt relieved to see Heracles, his usual smile not present on his face and replaced with a menacing glare. The god trembled in his shoes and just took off to who knows, too afraid to even try to speak to the towering demigod.

"Fucking coward." You thought, watching the god disappear around a corner. You felt the demigod's hand on your shoulder.

"You should go back to Uncle. I bet he's missing you." Heracles' face changed to a more cheerful one, his smile exposing his pearly whites. You giggled at his sudden change and nodded.

"I should. Thank you for saving me!"

"No problem!"

With that, you took off to see your husband. Before entering, you took the time to stand up straight, take a deep breath and walked in. You faced your husband, slowly making your way to your throne next to his. Sea Blue eyes observed your form, noticing your slightly messy hair and increased speed of your breathing.

He knew these were your signs of discomfort.

"Who is responsible?" His chilling voice filled the silence. You felt exposed upon hearing his question and hesitated on answering. But you gave up.

"Just another god." You finally answered, your hands gripping the armrests nervously. You knew lying to your husband would be impossible.

"Come here." He demanded. You quickly complied, standing in front of him, unsure of his next demand.

"I said, come here." He demanded again, his eyes staring right in your own orbs. You swallow slowly, stepping closer to him. This was strange, he never demanded, let alone asked for anything like this. With hesitation, you wrapped your arms around Poseidon's waist. When he didn't push you away, you lowered yourself down to sit on his lap.

Crying was out of the question if it was for anything else, but after what happened, you couldn't help it.

Your quietly sobbed, tightening the hug. Surprisingly, Poseidon did nothing but sit there, listening to your sobs.

Poseidon will have to wait until he can deal with the living filth that decided to get his dirty hands on his wife...

_____________

Writing the harassing part was really uncomfortable, but I pushed through to complete this :D

#ror x reader #snv x reader #poseidon x reader #jack the ripper x reader #never thought I'd tag that #but here we are #some fluff #ror x reader fluff #record of ragnarok x reader

907 notes · View notes

dycefic · 3 years

Text

Have An Evil Day

No prompt this time, just a sequel to ‘Welcome To Evil-Mart’

Working at Evil-Mart is usually… well, it’s retail. It’s physically exhausting, you have to deal with a lot of idiots without being overtly rude, and your feet hurt. Even though the hours and pay are very good, the benefits are great, and our bosses treat us well compared to most retail employees, it’s still not what I’d call a fun job.

But it’s not what I’d call dull, either. Especially not on days like today.

I was promoted to supervisor after the Food Poisoning Incident, so I have a little more authority and a little less obligation to be pleasant and I got issued a weighted cosh because sometimes Evil-Mart customers get… feisty. I’d never had to use it, though, because those who hadn’t seen what I did to Majority Rules, either in person or on one of the cell-phone videos that circulated afterwards, had at least heard about it. They didn’t give me any trouble.

I was halfway through my shift, and the worst things that’d happened had been running out of croissants and a machine oil spill in Aisle Seven, when our greeter pressed the alarm button, which sent an alert to my handset. As front-end supervisor, that meant me, so I went over. Sam, who is unusual in the henching community for having actually aged out rather than ‘being retired’ jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, swaggering figure. “He just came in,” he whispered.

I did a full double-take before I took it in. Superdyne. Fucking Superdyne.

We’d all heard about his dramatic heel-turn a couple of months ago. The whole world had heard about it. Superdyne, who’d skated closer and closer to the line for years, had decided to cross it in a blaze of bloodshed. He was a villain now, he said. There’d been a whole speech about how ingratitude had driven him to it blah blah blah.

I work at Evil-Mart. I’m from a hench family. If someone becomes a supervillain because they hate Mondays or want to turn us all into dinosaurs or whatever, I don’t judge. I will sell depth-charges and laser guns to anyone who can prove they’re over eighteen without hesitation. But even we get kind of grossed out by the ‘I am forced to turn evil because I haven’t been given enough love’ thing. People who are actually so fucked up by emotional abuse or neglect or some superhero killing their family, we’re fine with them. But they don’t say that’s why they do it, and most of them need a lot of therapy to even realize it. People who actually say that’s why are entitled dickwads.

And now the dickwad had walked into Evil-Mart like he was entitled. Like he thought he was one of us.

“Lockdown protocols,” I told Sam quietly. “On my authorisation.” That takes a minute or two, though, so I went over to talk to Superdyne. “Sir, I have to ask how you even knew where to find this place.”

He smirked at me. “I have my ways,” he said smugly. He’d either bribed or beaten someone, that was my guess. “So this is where the villains shop? We all thought you went to Wal-Mart.” He laughed, like he thought it was clever.

“Yes, so you all say,” I said dryly. I didn’t feel like pretending he was the first person to make the bad joke. “My next question, sir, is what made you think it was a good idea to come in here.”

He spread his hands. “I’m one of you now!” he said happily. “I’m a bad guy! So now I guess I shop where the bad guys shop!” He looked around, frowning a little. “Although I was expecting more weapons and explosives. A… more villainous atmosphere. I didn’t know Evil-Mart had fresh produce.”

“I don’t advise buying herbs here unless you’re a magical practitioner. Some of them have… unusual effects.” A lot of our produce is normal stuff, but some of it not only isn’t legal, it doesn’t exist anywhere else.

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. But the bright lights and the bakery?”

“We have excellent gluten-free breads. In many ways, Superdyne, this is just another store. We have sales, we mark down the breads in the afternoon, we even have a PA system.” I pulled out my handset, and thumbed the button that tied it to the PA. “Attention, shoppers,” I said in my most soothing Customer Service voice, which made him grin. “Evil-Mart wishes to inform you – “ The countdown on my handset reached zero, and I turned to look at the entrance as a huge blast door thudded down. That was the last part of the sequence – staff outside the area were already in lockdown and security were on their way. I smiled, and continued almost without a pause. “- That we are in lockdown at this time, due to the presence of Superdyne in the store. Please remain calm, and be advised that security are on their way to deal with the problem. If you have a personal grudge that you wish to address with Superdyne at this time, he is standing near Register Six with a stupid expression on his face.”

He was staring at me, stunned. “But… but…” he stammered, and damned if he didn’t look puzzled. “But I’m one of you now!”

“No,” I said flatly. “You were always evil, that’s true, but you’ll never be one of us. And for the record, I’m one of the people with a personal grudge. All those henchmen you’ve killed and maimed had families, asshole… and they all shop here.”

He swung at me, then, but I spent years in hench training. Even someone super-strong can be dodged, and once I slammed my cosh into his groin a few times his punches got a lot more aimless. Around then, Tiger Ty came over the register, claws out and snarling, and I figured I should stand out of the way.

About ten minutes later, I turned on the PA again. “Clean-up to Register Six,” I called, in the same special voice. “Category 7, class three. Shoppers, please be advised that lockdown is now lifted but Register Six will be closed until clean-up is completed.”

Hunter, who’d been working Register Six, came out from underneath it. He looked a little green. Well, he was still in his teens, this was probably his first fatal mobbing. “What’s Category 7?” he asked in a shaky voice. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“Biohazard.”

“Oh. Class three?”

“Send three people. He was a juicy one.” I stepped away from a spreading puddle of blood. “Run and get a couple of caution signs we can put around this mess.” I eyed it measuringly. “And one of those fifteen-gallon plastic tubs with a lid, I’ll damage it out.”

He eyed the mess. “Are you sure that’s big enough?”

“Yeah, the average human is only about seventeen gallons by volume, and I’m not going to put all the blood and mush in there, just the big pieces.”

He gulped. “Ah. Yes, ma’am.”

I called after him when he ran off. “One of the black tubs, not a clear one!” Which honestly should only be common sense, but you can’t count on a flustered teenager to have common sense.

We frown on killing customers at Evil-Mart, up to a point… but when a particularly murderous super-hero walks into our store, well, that’s something else. I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, though.

I had to chase off one of Doctor Malign’s minons and two members of the Genetic Reign before the clean-up crew arrived, both of whom urgently wanted samples. In the end I scraped a few pieces of liver and unidentified organ into two of the bags we use for possibly-contaminated money just to make them go away. (They’re good customers, and it was just going to go in the trash anyway.)

By the time the clean-up was done, all the big pieces were boxed up, and I’d finished the paperwork, my shift had been over for twenty minutes, and I’d been asked to come up to the boss’s office.

“Listen, I have no issues with how you handled the situation, I want you to know that.” Mr Trent leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. “It was quick, it was efficient, and… given your personal history with Superdyne, not to mention mine and that of half of our customer base… richly deserved.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. It came out too meek, and I cleared my throat and straightened up. It’s hard not to be intimidated by Mr Trent, when you’re in the same room with him. It’s not his fault, and he does his best, but even under the strictest control his fear-inducing powers tend to unsettle anyone who gets too close. We all know he’s not doing it on purpose and we try not to show our reactions. “Do you have any orders regarding the remains?”

“Doctor Order wants them.” He rubbed his chin. “Get someone from the pharmacy to prepare samples for him, please, including brain tissue. He’s our primary supplier, and we can’t offend him. As for the rest… as you know, I’m retired, and I don’t usually participate in the Endless War.” One of his hands dropped to his left thigh. His prosthetic leg is some of Doctor Order’s best work, but the injury that led to his retirement had been brutal even by our standards. “But this is different. Superdyne came here. To our place of safety. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

I nodded. “Do you want the remains dumped somewhere public? Some kind of dramatic display?”

“No. Something more direct.” He rubbed his chin again, then tapped the intercom on his desk. “Iris, please send up Miss Fedorova from Marketing and Mr Levy from the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir,” Iris responded, and he clicked off the intercom again.

“The three of you worked together very well, during the food poisoning incident,” he explained. “And I believe they can assist us in a satisfactory conclusion.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you should wait outside until they get here. I can tell I’m unsettling you.”

“Sir, I know you’re not – “

“Not doing it on purpose.” He sighed. “I do appreciate how hard you all work to make me feel… accepted, I really do. But I’m very annoyed right now, which makes control more difficult for me, so I think we’d both be more relaxed if you waited outside while I do my meditation exercises.”

I waited outside. When the three of us went into his office again, the miasma of low-level fear was definitely a bit lighter, and he smiled. “All right. Now, this conversation is going to be very confidential, and I will remind you all of the agreements you signed when you were employed.” We all chorused agreement, and he nodded. “Good. Now, this is very much a secret, even among Evil-Mart staff, but we do have a few online clients who are… ah… on the other side of the fence.”

Ms Fedorova blinked. “What?”

Knuckles sighed. “We ship to a few heroes,” he explained. “The ones who are… less homo than sapiens, if you get my drift.”

I didn’t, and from her expression Ms Fedorova didn’t either. Mr Trent spread his hands, drawing our eyes to his fingers. Which as a rule nobody looks at, because there’s fourteen of them, with four joints in each finger, and we know he’s self-conscious about it. “The less… purely human ones,” he said quietly. “One of the reasons I created Evil-Mart was to give those who can’t pass for human, like me, a place to be… people. To have dignity. So that the obligate carnivores weren’t reduced to living on pet-food or scavenging for scraps, so that those with complex metabolisms could get the supplements they need so that people who are still people, for all their outward differences, could shop in safety. There are a great many more monsters, demigods, abominations of science and other non-standard persons among our set than among the heroes, and I wanted to meet their needs, as well as selling weapons and Lair-away-from-home sets and so on.”

“And there are a few heroes who order from us for that reason,” Knuckles added. “The ones who can’t get medications to suit their metabolism, or need to eat things that you can’t get easily anywhere else.”

I nodded, because that much I understood. We have some very esoteric ‘dietary supplies’ that start with fresh, healthy, well-treated and disease-free prey animals frozen whole (from mouse up to calf and goat kept in stock, larger sizes by pre-order, halal and kosher certified where possible) and end with human blood (rejected blood bank stock mostly, we have an arrangement), and human flesh and organs (sourced from hospitals, morgues and crematoriums, guaranteed no murder, at least not by us). “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m surprised we ship to them, though.”

“Oh, they don’t know we know. It’s all assumed names and secret bank accounts.” Knuckles grinned. “But Mr Trent has all our online customers identified before we ship. And for the ones who don’t have any other options, well… we let it slide.”

“I can see why you don’t want that to get out.” Ms Fedorova tapped her chin. “What does this have to do with disposing of the body? I was planning to set up a really ghoulish display in a public place somewhere, I already have some sketches.” Marketing for Evil-Mart is… well, it includes more than designing our sale flyers.

“No. We’re going to deliver them to a hero… one of the ones who owes us… and make it very clear that just because someone decides to admit he’s a villain, that doesn’t make him one of us and it doesn’t entitle him to union services,” Mr Trent said flatly. “I want to make it crystal clear to all of them that a heel turn does not mean their sins are forgiven, or that we will accept them as anything other than a very brief amusement.”

Late that night – we were all on overtime, but it couldn’t be done in daylight – we wheeled a cart down the run-down hallway of a shoddy apartment building. “This is a terrible address for a hero,” Ms Fedorova muttered. “Are we sure he lives here?”

“I deliver here a couple of times a month.” Knuckles was pushing the cart. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Ms Fedorova cleared her throat, coughed once or twice, and suddenly her voice was deeper and her very faint Russian accent was as thick as pea soup. “This is intimidation tactic,” she said, grinning toothily. “Do not act surprised.”

I knocked on the door, but let Knuckles do the talking. “Delivery, Mr West,” he called, using the fake name the guy had been giving.

It worked… the door was unlocked and opened almost immediately. “I scheduled the order for next – “ the mark said, and then we were pushing inside, slamming the door behind us.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr… Dinoid, is it?” Ms Fedorova said, folding her arms. “Evil-Mart is knowing all along your real identity. But you are needing to eat, and we are not turning down regular business, so we make no trouble.”

Knuckles rolled his eyes behind her back at how much she was hamming it up, but I waved a hand. Let her have her fun. So Knuckles started unloading the boxes onto the table while she talked. “First, your Budget Bunny Box. Your favourite, da?” The next box, smaller, plunked down. “Two fresh chickens, halal certified, healthy and having lived good life, gift for good customer.” Knuckles dumped the plastic tub on the floor. “And mortal remains of Superdyne, with note.”

Dinoid was staring at us, but that made him shift into a combat stance, his long claws spread. “The… Superdyne’s dead? And in there?”

“Well. Most of him. The big pieces.” Ms Fedorova shrugged an impressively Russian shrug. I hadn’t even known that was a thing, but when she did it, it was obvious. “You must understand, when a mob tears a man apart, it is hard to find every little piece.”

“I’m pretty sure Doctor Malign and the Genetic Reign took off with doggy bags,” I said, as if I hadn’t handed them over myself. “And Doctor Order probably has some of him too, by now. So looking out for clones would be a good idea, I don’t know if that’s in the note.”

Insofar as that reptilian face could show readable expressions, he looked shocked. “Why on earth would… why? He changed sides? And why did you bring him to me?”

“We know your address, we know you don’t want to turn us in because we’re the only ones who can supply your meals, and our boss wanted us to make this very clear.” I indicated the note. Since Ms Fedorova was hamming up her Sexy Russian Supervillain act, and Knuckles was very obvious Muscle, I figured it was on me to be the Reasonable One. “He might have stopped being a hero, but that didn’t make him one of us. That didn’t make him acceptable to us. Our boss wants it made very clear that your failures shouldn’t expect to be accepted by us… or even spared by us.”

He shifted slowly, the tip of his tail twitching. “I… see. I understand why you would reject Superdyne. He was notorious for killing and maiming people on… your side. But I know other defectors have been accepted. Philomel, for example.”

“Philomel was child of villains. She is young, she is rebellious, she sides with heroes for a while.” Ms Fedorova shrugged. “Is understandable, da? The young do foolish things. She comes home, all is forgiven.”

He nodded slowly. “Tenebrous?”

“That story I don’t know.” Ms Fedorova glanced at me.

I nodded. “Tenebrous was just a kid. He was twelve when Varide recruited him. Nineteen when he broke with the guy. Varide put a kid into combat, left him with massive PTSD, then ditched him when he had a breakdown and went too far. Mx Frantique at least made sure he had a safe place to stay and some therapy.”

“It’s happened a few times.” Knuckles rested his elbows on the cart’s handles, his inhumanly big, strong hands dangling. “But there’s a process. A system. If someone’s sponsored by a villain in good standing, like Frantique sponsoring Tenbrous, they can be accepted. Nobody gets to just choose to join. Especially not a smug, entitled prick like Superdyne.”

Ms Fedorova suddenly leaned forward, scowling. “And why are you called Dinoid? You are not dinosaur. You are clearly monitor lizard. Golden monitor, I think.” She reached out and prodded his arm. “And not healthy, either. Look at colouration! You do not keep environment humid enough. Are having trouble with shedding, da?”

Now we were all staring at her. “You’re a lizard expert now?” Knuckles asked.

She shrugged. “What? Is hobby. Mamma’s little Varanus Acanthurus are pride and joy. Sadly, cannot keep larger monitors in city. Is unkind.”

Dinoid ran a hand over his head slowly. “Not many people realize,” he said slowly. “That’s why I order from you guys. I used to get frozen… food… from a pet supplier, but then I got contacted by someone who told me there was another option.”

“Is good thing. Those pet suppliers, they are rogues. They do not keep animals healthy, can get diseases or mites from those things.” Ms Fedorova sniffed. “I would never buy from them. My babies would get sick.”

He actually chuckled, then, seeming to relax a bit. “You’re not wrong. After… this happened… I got really sick a couple of times before I figured out what to eat, and where to get it. And even the reputable suppliers don’t always have the healthiest stock.” He opened his mouth wide, making a gagging noise. “You have no idea how bad that ‘reptile food’ is. Eating whole animals may be a little disgusting, but it’s nothing to some of that stuff.”

“I believe it,” I said emphatically. “There’s a reason Evil-Mart has such an extensive pet-food line. The horror stories we hear from some of our customers… well, you’d believe it, I bet, but most humans just look confused.”

Knuckles nodded, and spread his hands. “People who can’t pass for regular humans… or even for people, the way most normies see it… are a lot more common on our side of the fence than yours. That’s why we delivered to you. We figured you really needed it.”

“Does he order from the pharmacy?” Ms Fedorova was around behind him now, examining his back. “He is having calcium deficiency, am betting. He needs nutritional supplement.”

“I take a nutritional supplement,” he said defensively.

“The one for normal-sized lizards is not enough for man-sized monitor/human hybrid,” she said firmly. “Check pharmacy section next time. We are having excellent selection of supplements for hybrids, and chart to tell you how much to take for body-mass.”

He looked back and forth between the three of us. “You people are… not what I would have expected from an evil supermarket.”

“We may be… morally challenged,” I said, shrugging, “but we’re not heartless.” I looked around his tiny, shabby apartment. “Unlike some of your lot. I thought you were on a team. Why are you living here?”

He ducked his head. “I couldn’t live at the base,” he said, his tail drooping. “My… I made people uncomfortable. And the stipend isn’t much.”

“Isn’t much? With the merchandising deals they have?” Ms Fedorova sounded shocked, and the accent had dropped back a lot. “I know for a fact that if the accountants ever got hold of their books they’d owe more in back taxes than… well, than Evil-Mart would if our illegal product arm ever got discovered. And we pay our taxes on the legitimate stuff scrupulously.”

Dinoid blinked rapidly, though I couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised by her suddenly dropping her act or the idea that Evil-Mart pays taxes. “You do?”

“Of course. Not under that name, of course, there’s a shell company.” She sniffed. “All villains do. Al Capone, you know. We’re not getting caught that way again.”

Knuckles and I both nodded when he looked at us, and he shook his head. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”

“It does.” I looked around again. The place really was crappy. “I know it’s a personal question, Mr… West, but under the circumstances I’d like to know… how much is that stipend?”

He looked down at the floor for a while, then cleared his throat. “Uh. $1100 a month.”

We all stared at him. Ms Fedorova’s mouth fell open. Knuckles looked shocked, and I was horrified. “$1100 a month?!” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. “For risking your life on a superhero team?! I have teenaged cashiers working part-time who make more than that!”

He looked almost as startled as we did. “For working a cash register?!”

“Evil-Mart pays pretty good.” Knuckles shrugged. “But that stipend is disgusting.”

“You are being exploited,” Ms Fedorova said, sounding really aghast. “That is terrible. Why, baseline henchman pay is twice that, and there are danger bonuses and…” Her voice dropped suddenly. “You don’t have a union, do you?”

“A union? Of course we don’t have a…” He trailed off. “You mean you do?”

“Of course we do. An extremely well-armed one.” Ms Fedorova folded her arms. “Henchmen And Allied Industries has represented us for generations. The last time a supervillain executed a union henchman for failure, he was boiled in oil… literally. On camera. Oh, of course some of the less reputable villains just pick up small-time trash from the streets, untrained rabble from the gangs and so on, so they can treat them as disposable, but we union members are skilled workers, with rights and protections. I bet you don’t even get overtime.”

“Of course not. Crime happens when it happens, and we have to…” He trailed off. “You guys get overtime?”

“We’re getting double time and a half for this conversation. And an extra day off.”

His eyes widened again. “Really? Wow, that’s… even when I was working a regular job, before this, I didn’t get pay like that.” He looked down at his hands and bared his teeth in what looked like an unhappy expression. “And now I can’t work anything but this kind of job. People don’t like having a scary dinosaur in their restaurant.”

There was a long pause.

“You can cook?” Ms Fedorova asked carefully.

“Yeah. I worked in my parents’ restaurant before… this.” He gestured at himself. “They were killed when we were attacked, and I was… changed.”

We all looked at each other. “After you’ve returned Superdyne’s remains to whoever you consider appropriate,” I said, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down my number, “I’d like you to give me a call. Evil-Mart is always hiring in the bakery and deli, and I mean always. Most bad guys aren’t great cooks. We don’t know why, it just seems to be one of those things.”

“You want me to join the bad guys?”

“I want you to work in a bakery. Villains and henchmen need to eat, and so do their families. Nobody’s going to ask you to rip superheroes in half, just maybe make a sandwich that won’t give anyone food poisoning.”

“That’s a regular concern?”

“Six months ago the three of us ran Evil-Mart’s physical store completely unassisted for most of a day because the only people who weren’t down with food poisoning were the ones who’d had the vegetarian and kosher meals.” I shuddered at the recollection. “Trust me. Someone who can cater staff functions without a major disaster would never have to live in an apartment like this working for us.”

“And we get full benefits, including dental.” Knuckles was shaking his head. “I bet you don’t even get hospital.”

“What hospital would take me? I always figured I’d go to the zoo and talk to the vet if – “

Ms Fedorova actually put her arms around him. “You,” she told him firmly, “are going to resign your terrible exploitative job, and then I will personally sponsor you to the union immediately. I have a spare room. You will like it. Humidity and temperature can be set just how you like, and Mamma Yelena will take you to real doctor expert in health of hybrids.”

“Those exist?” he asked, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

“Yeah, the Genetic Reign has like three of them,” I said sympathetically. “Listen, you can take some time to think it over, but you don’t have to put up with this kind of exploitation just because you don’t look human. Nearly a third of Evil-Mart’s staff can’t pass, and they’re treated just like everyone else.”

Superdyne’s dramatic demise got a lot of news coverage. Apparently it came as a real shock to the ‘good guys’ that there were some monsters even the superest villains wouldn’t embrace.

Dinoid no longer exists. Ismail Jameel works at Evil-Mart, and has expanded our fresh food lines a lot already. He’s a nice guy, and after Ms Fedorova told everyone how disgustingly he’d been exploited by those so-called ‘heroes’, he was welcomed with open arms. Literally, in at least one case – he’s dating someone from the warehouse, I’ve heard, though I don’t know who. He says we should rename the store, because we suck at being evil.

But evil is a really relative term. It can mean the blackest depravity, or a moment of viciousness, or even just ‘people on the other side’. Evil-Mart is called that because everyone, at least everyone on our side, is welcome. Plus, we all think it’s funny that the least-evil megacorporation is called ‘Evil-Mart’. What can we say? Bad guys have a sense of humour too.

Have an evil day!

#welcome to Evil Mart #good is not just good #evil is not just evil #people are complicated #and so is retail #tw graphic #tw gore #tw violence #tw murder #it's a supervillain story #supervillain shit happens #you are now warned

7K notes · View notes

evansbby · 2 years

Text

only love can hurt like this

Pairing: Dark!Chris Evans x naive!reader

Warnings: DARK, non-con, dubcon, daddy!kink, toxic relationship, adultery, Chris is an asshole, anal/mentions of anal, very rough sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, possessiveness, naïve reader, I’m serious Chris is an asshole in this, and this is a very dark fic, MINORS DNI.

Words: it’s literally 9k words of smut

Summary: okay no summary bc it’s mostly just chris being toxic as hell, but let me just reiterate here that the chris in this fic obviously has no resemblance to the real guy apart from physical appearance, and reader discretion is advised! minors please do not interact, and everyone else: enjoy!

3:52am.

She looked down at her phone for the tenth time, the screen black and empty and hopeless as ever. Chris’ last text had been many, many hours ago.

I’ll be there at 2, baby.

He meant 2am – the early hours of the morning. And 2am had come and gone – it had been almost two hours and he was yet to show his face. And she’d had plans with her girlfriends that evening – a catch-up and cocktails at 9. But of course, she took a rain-check on that as soon as she got that text from him. In a panic, she drove to the nearest drugstore. Wax, hair removal cream, razors, face masks, a new moisturiser, even a fancy hair mask because why not? She had to look perfect for him. He wouldn’t like her as much if she was anything less than perfect.

And she spent all night prepping for 2am. Hours spent shaving and plucking and shaping, and then a bath so she would smell all sweet and flowery just for him. And then an icy shower so her skin would look tight and radiant. A concoction of coconut oil and shimmery moisturiser to make her newly hairless skin glow. Twenty minutes with her hairdryer to achieve the perfect tousled bedhead look, and then an hour in front of her vanity table, doing her special no-makeup makeup look because of course he loved her looking squeaky clean and makeup-free – and he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

It took her a further one hour to decide on what she wanted to wear. Or rather, what he would like to see her in the most. She considered red or black lingerie; it coded for a sexy siren, a woman who knew what she wanted and took what she wanted. Paired with a red lip and a leather jacket and sky-high black stilettos, a woman oozing sexuality and confidence, a woman any man would kill to be with. But she wasn’t that woman, she couldn’t picture herself ever being that woman.

And then there was the pink lingerie. Baby pink and frilly and sweet. Chris would love that, she thought. And she hoped it was because he thought she was sweet, cute, but still sexy. Because he wanted to take care of her, and protect her, and because he thought she looked beautiful in it. He would buy her pink lingerie all the time, more than any other colour. He must like it best then, she decided, and she slipped the matching set on along with a short, white satin robe on top.

And then she sat on the bed and waited. And waited. And waited some more. She debated sending him a picture, to show him what he was missing out on. But it was risky, and he’d warned her against it before, not without his permission. But it was funny, because many times in the past, she’d received a text from him in the middle of the night – when he was probably in bed in his own home – asking her, begging her to send him pictures, videos, anything.

Baby, I need you so badly. Send me a picture please. Something sexy.

Looking back, she remembered she was about to fall asleep, but thrilled that he had messaged her, that he wanted to talk to her, she’d sent him a selfie of herself pulling a funny face. A harmless joke. His reply had been almost instant.

Show me your tits.

And she remembered the pang of hurt she’d felt, the first of many pangs of hurt she’d feel again. The first of many she’d bury deep down in the recesses of her mind, because he’s horny, it’s normal for men to just think with their dick. He’s so nice to me most other times, so what if he hasn’t spoken to me in three days, so what if he didn’t ask me how my day went, how my week was? I’m sure he will once he’s gotten off.

And so, she had done what he had asked, she had sent him pictures, and videos too. He was the first and only man she’d sent nudes to. And honestly, she was never fully comfortable with it. But it was him, with his sweet words and even sweeter smile. He would never purposely make her feel uncomfortable. Never ever, not in a million years.

He had said goodnight not ten minutes later.

Back in the present. She shook away any negatives thoughts that crept up at the back of her mind; thoughts that were nothing more than pests – like ugly cockroaches that she had to stamp away before they poisoned her mind against him. Because he was perfect. Because she loved him. She glanced at the clock. 3:58am. Maybe something had come up. Maybe an emergency, an accident. Chris wouldn’t forget about her. Not on purpose. Not Chris. Never Chris.

Anxiety riding high, she was about to rip the loose threads off the hem of her nightgown when the bell rang. And there he was, smiling like everything was all sunshine and roses. And it was, because he was finally here, and she hadn’t seen him in a week.

“Hey, princess.” He was so casual, brown hair tousled to perfection, blue-green eyes glowing in the dim lamplight of her apartment. She melted into his arms immediately, like a puppy greeting its owner who hadn’t been home in days. She had planned to play it cool, play a little hard to get, make him work hard for her affections. But the truth was, she was putty in his hands from the moment he walked in the door and both of them knew it.

“Chris. Hi.” She breathed, looking up at him all bright-eyed and brimming with anticipation. His strong arms enveloped her completely, almost swallowing her up as they wrapped around her waist. She breathed in his scent, burying her face in his chest, taking in that musky cologne that was so him. So manly. So virile. Dark. Rich. Sophisticated. He was perfect. He was everything. (She smelled something sweet on him too, a perfume she had never smelled before. But, like a cockroach, she stamped that thought out of her mind.)

And Chris’ hands were all over her, large and expansive, confident in the way he touched, squeezed, fondled every part of her body as if he owned it. And he did. He knew he did and so did she. “You look so hot, baby girl.” He whispered into her ear, the words of praise causing jolts of pleasure to run down her spine. “So fucking hot. Sinfully hot like a little slut.” And he slapped her ass. Hard. And she could feel him getting hard, pressing his hips against her stomach, causing her to let out a breathy little yelp of his name.

“You missed me, didn’t you?” He said, grinning while she pressed kisses up his neck, his jaw, his lips. He kissed her back, but pulled away all too soon, closing and locking the door behind him. He was dressed darkly, in a black button-down shirt and a black denim jacket. He hadn’t shaved since the last time she’d seen him, and she thought the shaggier look made him look even hotter.

“I did.” She replied earnestly, “I haven’t seen you in a whole week.” She paused, wondering if her words were coming across as her complaining, “I mean, I’m sure you were super busy with that movie you’re filming.”

Chris yawned, checking a message on his phone and typing out a quick reply before he looked up to respond, “Oh yeah, babe, I was real busy. You know how it is, all this filming shit. It’s fun but it takes a lot out of me.”

“Of course!” She felt bad for even hinting that it was his fault for not replying to her texts, for not speaking to her at all in over a week. How could she ever doubt him? How could she ever even think to blame him? She grabbed his hand and led him to her tiny kitchen, to the table where she had prepared food for him. “I knew you’d be tired. You were filming all day today, weren’t you? That’s why you couldn’t text me. That’s why you could only see me this late. Don’t worry, Chris, I understand. And look, I cooked for you. It’s all your favourite food.” She peered up at him hopefully.

Chris smiled, “That’s so cute, princess. You’d make such a cute little housewife.”

She glowed.

“But I’m not too hungry right now, babe. I’m sorry.”

She wilted. She wondered if she should get angry, tell him she’d spent ages on the food. Ask him to maybe just try a bite or two. Would that be so bad? She was about to open her mouth when Chris grabbed her suddenly, pressing his lips against hers in a rough, possessive kiss that left her reeling.

“It gets me so hard, though,” He said against her lips, “The thought of you cooking for me. Slaving your little ass away all day in the kitchen, just for me.” He fingered a loose strand of her hair, tucking it gently behind her ear; the action almost tender if it weren’t for the rapidly darkening look in his eyes, “You always want to please your daddy, don’t you?” He asked her, a slight edge in his tone.

And of course, it made her pussy clench, hearing him speak like that. Sometimes it scared her, how dark he could get, how far he took things. But she had never been with a man before Chris, and he had told her that all good girlfriends called their boyfriends ‘daddy,’ and all good girlfriends let their daddies do all the unspeakable things he did to her. And it got her wet yet made her bristle with shame every time she remembered everything she’d allowed him do to her.

(She remembered him calling her a stupid, pathetic little girl as he made her lick his cum off the floor. She remembered him tugging a leather collar around her neck, fastening it on tightly, assuring her that a good little girlfriend would gladly get on her knees and crawl for her daddy. She remembered the butt plug which he had made her wear all day, warning her that there’d be hell to pay if she took it off even for a second.

She remembered the first time he’d taken her up the ass, after a lot of coercion, and she’d pleaded with him after it was done: “Chris, please. Don’t let anyone know I let you do that.” And there were tears welling in her eyes, embarrassed by how her body had responded to every sinful thing he did to her. And Chris had laughed, “Princess, you’re my dirty little secret. I ain’t tellin’ no one.”)

“Don’t you?” He repeated, zapping her out of her memories and back into the present, and she knew Chris didn’t like to repeat himself.

“Yes, I do.” She whispered, wanting to make him proud, feeling the wetness pool between her legs at how commanding he was being.

Rough fingers grabbed her jaw, tugging her forward, “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I always want to please my daddy.” She whispered, wanting to squeeze her eyes shut out of embarrassment but keeping them open and locked with his regardless. She knew how much he got off on embarrassing her, making her feel small. And it got her off too, she was subconsciously pressing her legs together.

Chris smiled his approval, features morphing from dark to angelic in a heartbeat. “You wanna please daddy, huh?” She nodded desperately. “Then why don’t you clean up and put away all this food, and then we can go to your bedroom and play?”

She scrambled to obey him, so instantaneously that it was almost embarrassing. She had laid the food out all prettily on the kitchen table, a cute checkered tablecloth decorated with dishes of all his favourite food, and a plate piled high at the head of the table, food untouched and gone cold. She sighed, grabbing a dish to put into the fridge when she felt him tug her arm.

“Stop.” He commanded her, and her heart skipped a beat. Had Chris changed his mind? Was he going to eat the meal after all? Maybe they could enjoy it together? Maybe he would be sweet and romantic tonight? Or maybe he would help her clear it all up? Apologise for not wanting to eat it, promise her he’d eat it tomorrow. And then carry her to the bedroom and make love to her, all slow and gentle for a change.

“Take your clothes off first.” Was all he said.

She stood there, frozen, staring up at him in dismay. What? And he just smirked at her, blue eyes twinkling with a little bit of mischief and a little bit of something darker. He pulled a chair out and sat down, looking at her expectantly. “You heard me. Strip. And then clean all this up. I’ll wait.”

She wondered if it was possible for someone’s heart to sink and pussy to clench at the same time. Her cheeks burned as she slowly slipped her robe off, revealing the baby pink lingerie she had worn just for him. But Chris’ eyes weren’t even on her; he had pulled out his phone once more, tapping away at it as if responding to a text was more important than her. And a large part of her was so turned on by his nonchalance, almost like he’d programmed and trained her to be. But a tiny part of her wanted to die because she had chosen this lingerie especially for him, matching his tastes, hoping he’d like it.

And he hadn’t even given it a glance.

It was only when her bra and G-string lay on the floor and she stood naked in front of him, did Chris look at her once again. Licking his lips, he eyed her up and down. There was a starved look in his eyes, but his exterior remained calm, collected. She envied how he could control his lust, while she could barely last two seconds around him without turning into a submissive mass of quivering nerves.

“Good girl.” He said softly, and she beamed at the praise, sunken heart rising up once more. But then his attention diverted back to his phone, “Now get to cleaning. I’ll give you five minutes. Daddy’s had a hard day and wants to blow off some steam, so hurry up.”

“Yes, daddy.” She said dutifully, getting to work on clearing the plates. And she was so wet now, the juxtaposition of her naked body and him being fully clothed was enough to make her throb down there. And it was cold – the heating in her apartment didn’t work too well – and her nipples were stiff enough to cut glass. And she could feel Chris’ burning eyes on her body, getting off on embarrassing her like this, getting off on watching her naked in the kitchen on his orders, doing exactly what he’d asked her to do. It was sick. They were both sick.

She watched him from her peripheral as she cleaned; he seemed to be scrolling through his phone with one hand, the other tapping on the table impatiently, as if willing her to hurry the fuck up. She winced inwardly when she caught sight of his wedding band on his ring finger, but chased the feeling of shame away, stamped at it until it was nothing but a sliver of nagging negativity at the back of her mind.

Chris had not been wearing his wedding ring when she had met him. And not when they got together. And certainly not when he took her virginity. And when she had found out he was married – almost two months into their relationship – she had cried and screamed and demanded to end everything. She really had! But Chris had gathered her in his arms, kissed her tears away and whispered sweet assurances in her ear. “She means nothing to me, baby.” “We don’t even sleep in the same bed anymore.” “I’m in the process of getting a divorce, baby. But you know these things take time.” “I love you, princess, not her.”

And she had believed him. Of course, she had. And she still believed him now, when it was six months later and the wedding ring was still on his finger. Because Chris loved her, he’d told her so many, many times! And Chris was a famous actor, and divorces were difficult in the public eye. He told her it would take time, but he was speaking to his lawyers. And why wouldn’t she believe him? He was the love of her life and he would never, ever lie to her.

Sometimes, she wondered what her family and friends would think if they knew she was with Chris. Well, if they could ever get past the fact that he was married, they’d see what she saw. A charming, beautiful man whose smile could light up the whole room. Funny, witty, talented, confident, it seemed everything that she lacked – he seemed to possess in bucketloads. But Chris was also a lot older than her, and she wondered if her parents would ever approve of that.

Well, they would have to, she decided. Because soon, when Chris got his divorce, she and him would be together – properly. He could take her out on proper dates just like he promised he would, instead of sneaking into her apartment in the middle of the night whenever he managed to be in town. And he would buy her a ring, and marry her in a huge wedding where he would show her off in front of everyone. Where he’d be proud of her. And she would be the perfect, most loving and devoted little wife to him.

“You done?” Chris’ curt words snapped her out of her imagination. She had just covered the last remaining dish in cling-film, placing it in the fridge before turning obediently to face him.

“Yes, daddy. All done just like you asked.”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, making it slightly unruly in a way that looked so fuckable, it was insane. He was so handsome; the entire world knew it. And it thrilled her to know that he had chosen her. And slowly, he beckoned her to come closer, and she almost tripped on her feet to obey him. He set his phone face down on the table and patted his knee, and it took her less than a second to sit down on his lap. The denim material of his jeans felt rough against her skin, and that plus the cold temperature made her hyper-aware of her nakedness. She shivered.

Chris’ lips brushed against her temple, dipping lower before she felt him lick the shell of her ear lewdly, “You’re a little whore, you know that?” She felt another pang of hurt, but it was overpowered by the thrill his cruel words seemed to cause down there. How he had trained her to get off on his harsh verbal degradations, she could never figure out. But she had never known any different, and she had to keep reminding herself that this wasn’t really him, this was just his dominant side coming out to play, and tapping into her darkest, most shameful desires.

“But you’re a good whore,” Chris breathed, stroking her hair, smoothening down the waves, petting her like a puppy, “You’re a good little whore for daddy. It’s amazing how you do what I tell you to without any argument. Even if it’s the most degrading, fucked up thing in the world.” He snickered darkly, and then he reached down to pinch her thigh harshly, “You keep me wondering how far I can take it with you, princess.”

Slowly, his fingers crept to her front, her legs easily parting for him and allowing him access to her pussy. Well, it was his anyways. He massaged her clit slowly, confidently in the way only he knew how to. Barely touching her, knowing it drove her crazy. She whimpered when he pushed two fingers inside her, cringing at the squelching sound which gave away just how dripping wet she was for him.

“You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” Chris’ voice was demanding, yet so velvety smooth. She bit her lip, rocking her hips against his hand, practically humping against it while he worked another finger inside her.

“Yes, daddy, anything,” She promised him between small, breathless moans of pleasure.

“Pathetic.” He taunted her, biting her ear lobe, kissing her jaw, fondling her naked body with his other hand, rolling and pinching her stiff nipple, and he did it so hard it hurt. And he continued to fuck her with his fingers. All the while looking completely composed whilst she slowly became undone on his lap. “You’re a pathetic little girl, you know that?”

“I am, I am!” She cried, rutting harder against him, gasping when he added another finger. There was no singular thought in her mind except his fingers, and how good they felt, and how badly she wanted to cum. And she would do anything for him, anything he’d ask for. Isn’t that what girlfriends did for their boyfriends? That’s what he always told her.

He laughed cruelly, increasing his pace, curling his fingers upwards, getting just the right angle, knowing he had her. She could hear the smirk in his words: “You’d even let me piss on you if I wanted to, wouldn’t you?”

Her orgasm hit her hard and fast, like a freight train. And how red it made her cheeks to think of what he’d said, the taboo nature of it and how, ultimately, that’s what had made her cum. She rocked against his fingers, riding out her orgasm, feeling bliss, pleasure, shame, embarrassment, all rolled into one. God, why was she like this? Was it normal to get off to all the disgusting things he did to her, said to her? But his fingers felt so good, the orgasm so overwhelming that she didn’t know what to think, and all she did was bury her head into his shoulder, tears welling in her eyes from all the jumbled thoughts running in her head.

And Chris just laughed, fingers still inside her, his dick harder than a rock underneath her. “I love it when you cry, princess.” Sex was a game to him, she thought. A sick game of powerplay, exerting as much dominance over her as he possibly could, reducing her to a crying, sobbing mess of incoherent thoughts. And she knew he was barely just getting started. Using his thumb and forefinger, he grabbed her chin and roughly turned her to face him.

“You’re so pathetic.” He repeated lowly, “But you’re lucky I find it so sexy.” And he cupped her face with both his hands, squeezing her jaw so hard it hurt. And she wanted to kiss him so bad, have that little bit of tenderness to balance out the roughness. Instead, he spat straight in her mouth, causing her pussy to convulse with newfound thrill. And then he kissed her roughly, biting her lip till she knew he’d broken skin, and she could taste her own blood.

And she couldn’t wait any longer, hoping he’d take her right then and there. Fuck her hard or slow – she didn’t care. It was crazy how badly she wanted him, no matter what he did to her. But she knew Chris liked to play with his meals before he devoured them, and he pushed her off his lap roughly, and she landed on the floor, grimacing at the loss of touch and the hard wood floor beneath her. With pursed lips and flushed cheeks, she looked up at him submissively, waiting.

“Crawl.” He said simply. “Crawl to the bedroom, princess. And don’t look at me like that. You know how to do it,” he laughed cruelly, “You’ve done it plenty of times before.” And of course, she had. She’d done much worse things under his orders, taboo things that would make her parents’ and friends’ skins crawl with disgust. And as she turned and began to crawl – luckily, her bedroom wasn’t too far away – she winced when the palm of his hand collided with her ass once more, the cracking sound of the smack echoing around her small apartment.

It was while she was crawling that a small part of her wondered when exactly things had changed. She remembered the first time they’d had sex, when he’d taken her virginity. And Chris had been so tender, so caring; whispering assurances in her ear, his eyes sparkling with wonder at every hitch of her breath as he entered her for the first time. Whispering soft comforts into her ear, both of them bathed in warm, candle-lit glow, he had created heaven for her in that instance. So, she wondered when exactly the gentle sweet nothings had turned into scorn and brutality, whips, belts, handcuffs and everything in between.

She also wondered when exactly she had begun to crave all the sickness, the depravity, the roughness, the degradation.

Reaching her room with a dull pain in her knees, she assumed position in the middle of the snow-white fuzzy rug, facing the door and waiting for him. She could hear him walking around in the kitchen, opening the fridge. The pop of a beer can opening, and the sound of a long swig. Slow, leisurely steps that grew closer, making her shiver in anticipation.

“You look so pretty like this.” Chris said, standing in the doorway with a smirk playing on his lips. He meandered closer, so relaxed, so calm, as if he was in no hurry to get to her. And then he was looming above her, and he pulled her roughly by the hair till she was up on her knees and face to face with his clothed dick. It was almost calculating, the way he stroked the top of her head, and she couldn’t help but savour his demeaning touch. But then his grip on the strands of her hair tightened, and she hissed in pain. There was a glint in his eye when he continued, “But you’d be prettier with my dick in your mouth.”

The order was so simple, and she scrambled to obey. Shaky hands undoing his fly, daintily reaching into his boxers to pull out his dick. And God, she’d be lying if she said his dick didn’t intimidate her every time that she saw it. So big, thick, veiny, imposing; it always hurt when he entered her – no matter which of her three holes he used.

And there was no preamble with Chris – she certainly wouldn’t dare to tease him. Not that she’d had the time to – he immediately forced his dick down her throat before she’d barely parted her lips. He hissed in relief. “Fuck, your little whore mouth feels so good on daddy’s dick,” he muttered, hips immediately thrusting into her mouth, effectively fucking her face.

She felt the tip of his dick hit the back of his throat, felt her eyes watering already. But she wanted to concentrate, wanted to please him as best she could. And Chris was murmuring every profanity under the sun – profanities he’d banned her from ever uttering unless it was during sex. “Motherfucking shit, just like that,” and he’d grabbed her face, which was blotchy with tears, forcing her to meet his gaze, “Fucking look at me, you dumb fucking slut. Keep your eyes on me. Fuck.”

She was almost suffocating on his cock – and she knew that Chris was well aware of this. It got him off even more – the power he held over her. He only fucked her face harder, until she was deepthroating him, choking and gagging with her knees about to give out underneath her. “This is how you should always be.” Chris told her, fucking into her mouth so hard, she thought she may pass out, “On your knees with your lips around my cock. Fuck, I shouldn’t even have to ask you to blow me.” He slapped her lightly across the cheek, “You hear me? Next time I come over, you better be on your knees and ready to suck daddy’s cock like a good fucking little slut, got it?”

And why did it make her pussy throb so hard when he pulled his dick out, slapping her across the face with it multiple times as she gasped for breath? Why was the wetness seeping down her legs when he rubbed his dick all over her face as if he was marking his property?

Chris pushed her off his dick, and she landed on the floor in a heap of limbs, sobbing because of his roughness, the aching of her jaw, the soreness already developing in the back of her throat. And Chris loomed over her, dark and imposing as ever, pumping his dick as he spat on her again, “If only you could see yourself right now,” he said, grabbing her by the hair once more, ignoring her cries of pain as he threw her down onto the bed, “If only you could see what a mess you are. And it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

She nodded desperately through her tears, “Yes, daddy! All for you. Only for you.”

The look in his eyes was almost sadistic, as he climbed up on the bed on top of her. Like the big bad wolf closing in on his prey, knowing he had all the freedom in the world to do any and every depraved thing to her that he could think of. His large hands stroked her body slowly, the touch almost gentle except she knew better. He stroked down her belly, smoothed down her thighs till he reached her knees, pushing her legs up until her pussy was on full display for him.

And all Chris had to do was flick her engorged clit once, and she practically convulsed with pleasure – she hadn’t realised just how riled up she was until she was squirting all over his hand. From a single flick. Even Chris looked momentarily bemused, watching her ride out the unexpected orgasm, wailing his name, whimpering daddy over and over again as she came down from her high.

“I think you’re having too much fun, princess.” Chris’ tone was velvety smooth, and she shut off her whimpering immediately, suddenly hyper-aware of the danger his demeanour seemed to promise. He chuckled, pressing down on her sensitive, raw clit once more. She cried out; too much, too much, too much! But Chris wasn’t done with his ministrations, the glint in his eye indicating a plan formulating. “I want you to finger yourself. Since you can’t seem to stop orgasming. Can you do that for me, princess?”

She was too sensitive, but she knew she had to obey. And honestly, she had been expecting something a lot more fucked up than her fingering herself. She bit her lip, nodding and murmuring a quiet yes, daddy before slipping a finger inside herself. God, she was so wet, she couldn’t remember ever being wetter. The squelching sounds of her juices made her burn with embarrassment, and Chris licked his lips, grabbing on to her wrist suddenly.

“Wrong hole, princess.” There was an evil look of glee on Chris’ face.

Oh no.

She swallowed harshly as he led her hand downwards, her dripping fingers now hovering over her puckered asshole. Oh no. No. Please. No.

She remembered the first time Chris had ventured his own fingers to her rear entrance, and the burning shame she had felt when he had forced his digits up inside her, scissoring her open, stretching her out. The feeling had been so foreign, so taboo to her, and she had cried, pleaded for him to stop. Because it had felt good – and she didn’t know what to make of that.

But the shame never really went away. And neither did the burning feeling of intrusion as Chris forced her fingers inside her asshole. Wet with her own juices, it was still a tight fit, and she sobbed because why was she so turned on? Why did his wicked smirk and evil glint in those angelic eyes send sparks up and down her body?

“C’mon, princess, show some enthusiasm.” He murmured darkly, raking his own fingers through her hair in an almost calming way, his other hand leaving hers to palm his cock, “I don’t know why you’re crying. We both know deep down you’re a fucking slut for anal. Just look how fucking wet you are, with your own fingers up your ass.” He laughed cruelly, giving her a harsh smack on the ass. And then, with a blink of an eye, his features shadowed, “But you have to do better, sweetheart. Or else I’ll punish you.”

The quiet threat immediately had her concentrating hard, scrunching her eyes shut and focusing on pleasuring herself. Forcing her own fingers deep inside herself, in and out, in and out; making a big show of it, moaning and preening for him. Because that was what he liked. And she had to do everything that he liked. Or else I’ll punish you.

She remembered the last time he had punished her – although she wished she didn’t. Sadistic and rough sex was Chris’ idea of a normal night of intimacy – especially as of late. But when he was angry and in the mood to punish? She swallowed hard. The last time had been because she’d had lunch with an old guy friend from high school. Chris had somehow found out. She had come home to him waiting on her bed (he had a key to her apartment, of course) with his leather belt in his hand and a dark, faraway look on his face. After that night, she promised him she would never speak to another man again. And Chris had smiled, and made pancakes for her in the morning.

A slight rustling made her snap her eyes back open, and her heart sank with dismay when she registered Chris with his phone in his hand, pointed straight at her. Her fingers stalled for a second, and he gave her a warning look. “Don’t get camera-shy now, princess.” He warned, jacking off his dick with his other hand, “I want you to look straight at the camera as you finger yourself. Look straight into this fucking lens and tell me who this tight little ass belongs to.”

“Daddy,” she whimpered quietly, all the while silently praying that she was doing good enough for him and his phone camera, “It belongs to my daddy.”

“Louder.”

“It’s yours!” She cried out in desperation, “It belongs to you, okay? This ass belongs to daddy. Please!” She felt like she was broken, like a toy with a broken battery that kept repeating the same thing. And she was also so turned on, so wet and worked up from the humiliation of being filmed in such a compromising and lewd position. With her legs splayed apart and everything on display – just for him.

“How does it feel, huh?” Chris asked her smoothly, throwing his phone aside and climbing on top of her, “How does it feel to have no dignity?” He laughed cruelly, “You’re lucky you’re so fucking hot, you can get away with it.” And then he was kissing her; hot, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue probing the inside of her mouth like he owned it. His rough beard bristled against her tear-stained jaw in a way that was so familiar, so him. And she responded weakly, body and mind so sapped of energy and so tense from being so turned on. And his hands were everywhere; squeezing her breasts, tweaking her sensitive nipples till she cried out in pain against his lips.

“Daddy, please,” She pleaded, “Please fuck me. Please. I’ll do anything. Just please.”

“Oh, princess. You can’t help but beg me, can you?” He was on his knees, straddling her as he tugged his jacket off. “But honestly, you’d do anything for me anyways.”

“I need you so bad.” She tried again.

Chris licked his lips as he shrugged off his shirt, “How bad?”

“Like… Like I’ll die if you don’t fuck me.”

His eyes darkened, and it was as if his dick seemed to get harder at her words. He loomed above her, staring down at her with a look that could only be described as a mixture of lust, power and sadism (with a tiny bit of wonder mixed in). “It’s like you worship me.” He said to her, and she nodded desperately. “It’s like I’m your god, and you’d do anything I’d tell you to.” His large hand suddenly wrapped around her delicate throat, applying just enough pressure to make it hard for her to breathe, “I could choke you out right now till you passed out, and you’d just wake up and thank me for it, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, daddy!” She gasped, and he loosened his grip on her. She sputtered and coughed, air filling her lungs properly once more. It was different, the glint in his eyes as he watched her. She knew he got off on the power he held over her, but it had never been this intense before. But it turned her on way too much, his power – both physical and mental. How big and strong he was compared to her, how he could toss her around like a rag-doll. How he could torture her psychologically, reduce her to a crying mess.

With no warning, and a quick snap of his hips, he shoved his dick inside her. And despite how many times he had fucked her before, it always felt like a little bit of an intrusion because of how big he was. Like a steel rod ramming into her, stretching her out, making her wince with pain yet gasp in relief at the feel of finally being so full. Full of him. And Chris gasped too, clutching at her hips, the rough pads of his fingers leaving bruises in their wake as he bottomed out inside her.

“How the hell does this tiny pussy stay so fucking tight?” He breathed, pressing his forehead against hers. “Hm? Tell me how it still fucking feels like it’s the first time, like I’m fucking your virgin pussy for the first time like I did months ago?”

She had no idea how to answer him, and instead just moaned his name, her nails grazing his back and grabbing on to his bicep because she knew any moment now, he would switch into jackhammer mode. “Please…Please, daddy,” She begged, “Please move. I can’t… I can’t take it. I need you so bad.”

“I know you do.” Chris replied simply, pulling all the way out, leaving her empty and gaping, yearning for him, “I know that’s all you think about. I know your whole world revolves around my fucking dick.” He kissed her roughly, possessively, “There’s not a single thought in that pretty little head of yours that isn’t about my dick, about daddy fucking you. Is there?” His hand wrapped around her throat once more, “I said, is there?” She shook her head furiously, and he smirked. “I know, baby. I know.”

And he slammed back into her, so hard and fast that she audibly screamed. And he was vicious from the get-go, not giving her a chance to adjust – not that he ever did, as of late – as he began to thrust in and out of her. It was almost carnal, the way she was screaming his name in seconds, searing pleasure already sparking inside her because he was hitting all the right spots. Searing pleasure mixed with burning pain because he was so big, and so strong, pinning her down and claiming her every time his dick entered her body.

He hiked one of her legs up over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper. She whimpered with pleasure, hands grabbing on to his hair, his arms, his chest. And he squeezed her breast roughly, his other hand still firmly wrapped around her throat. He made her bed seem flimsy, the way it was rocking with every one of his animalistic thrusts, the way the headboard was banging against the wall – the loud thuds mixing in with the sound of her moans.

“It feels so good knowing I can use you whenever I want, however I want.” Chris whispered through gritted teeth, all the while still ramming into her at top speed, his balls slapping against her lewdly. “You’re just a doll to me, a toy for me to use and abuse. Aren’t you, princess?” His degrading words only ignited the flames of pleasure that were already licking up and down her body, mounting and building up, further fuelled when he squeezed her throat harder, “I asked you a question, you fucking slut.”

“Yes, daddy!” She cried out dutifully, deliriously, “I’m your toy, just a toy for you to… For you to use, oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!”

“How does it feel knowing you could never say no to me?” His voice remained velvet smooth, as if he wasn’t already using all of his energy to fuck the literal living daylights out of her. His thrusts never faltered, his dick feeling like an angry steel rod the way it was hitting her G-spot over and over again. “Daddy fucking owns you; you hear me? I own you and I will fuck you however and whenever I want. I’ll fucking ruin your little pussy, ruin you for anyone else, you got it?” He accentuated his words with a particularly hard thrust that had her reeling, “Not that there’ll ever be anyone else for you. It’s all me. I was your first and I’ll be your fucking last. Just me. For the rest of your fucking life. I own you.”

Her orgasm was earth-shattering. Almost like the entire world around her paused while waves of pleasure seared through her body. Except Chris. He never paused, continuing to fuck her mercilessly while she had stars behind her eyes. Her legs, which had been wrapped around his waist, went limp against him, toes curling, belly taut and tense, the red-hot pleasure overwhelming her as she cried out his name again and again till it lost all meaning. Her pussy was clenching around him, milking his dick like a velvet vice, and all the while she sobbed with pleasure. She was as sure as anything that no one else could ever make her feel half as amazing as Chris could.

“What a stupid fucking little girl,” Chris tutted, voice so low it was almost a growl, “Acting like a fucking virgin who can’t even hold it in.” He slapped her lightly across the face and she opened her eyes, her tear-stained cheeks reddening in post-orgasmic glow. “You didn’t even ask daddy’s permission before you fucking came all over my dick.” And he was still fucking her raw and overstimulated pussy, staring at her with lust-blown eyes and a carnal desire.

She shook her head, “Daddy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” She cried desperately, clutching at his face, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t punish her. “I… I couldn’t help it, please! I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help it!”

And for a moment she thought this was it, and she braced herself for what was to come. But then Chris laughed – casually, as if he wasn’t still in the middle of fucking her senseless, “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, princess. And that you look so fucking pretty when you cum.” And was it bad that her heart soared at his compliment? She was about to thank him when he pulled out suddenly, leaving her feeling gapingly empty, before he flipped her over onto her hands and knees.

“But I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” He murmured, giving her ass a harsh, stinging slap before ramming into her once more. And she cried out because it was too much, way too much. And his previous roughness was nothing compared to now; her body gave out almost immediately, and she fell in a mass of sweaty limbs on the bed as he fucked into her. And Chris had to hoist her back up, spanking her again, “You better stay in fucking place, or else.” He warned, his other hand grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling it hard. “You’re a dumb fucking slutty little girl who belongs on her fucking hands and knees. Stay. In. Fucking. Position. Fuck!”

Each word was enunciated with an earth-shattering thrust, and she truly thought he was about to break her in two. How was he so fucking strong? How did he have so much stamina? Sometimes, she really thought he had the super strength of the hero he played in the movies. Because the creaking and thudding she could hear was proof that he was fucking her so hard, her bed was probably going to break.

“You should always be like this.” Chris said through gritted teeth, the determination evident in his voice. “Helpless and underneath me. God, fuck! You’re so fucking hot like this, princess. You should always be on your hands and knees. Always. Like a fucking kitten. Like daddy’s pet. You’d fucking love that, wouldn’t you?” He squeezed her ass roughly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh so harshly, she was sure he’d drawn blood. And she cried out his name, because she could feel a dull spark down there, and she knew he had her again.

“You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” Chris said, giving her ass another smack, and then another, and then another. His hand snaked down, rough fingers pinching her clit. She let out a carnal scream, her pleasure mounting once more. “Daddy’s little princess is gonna cum again, isn’t she? You’re gonna cum again like the dumb fucking slut you are.”

“Yes, yes, oh fuck, yes! Daddy, please! Please don’t stop. Right fucking there, oh my God!” And she was cumming again, her pussy, used and abused by his dick, pulsating around him as she came. And she screamed so loud, she was sure the neighbours would complain. She rocked back against his dick, her ass rubbing against his balls involuntarily, riding out her orgasm before she fell limp underneath him, weak and completely spent.

She felt his dick twitch inside her, felt his fist in her hair tighten, heard him mutter a string of expletives under his breath. And then he was cumming too, releasing hard inside her pussy, claiming it completely. Hot spurts of his cum coating her insides, filling her up completely, making her feel so full, so used, so complete. Chris always came inside her. He never pulled out. And he never wore a condom.

“Look at you, taking daddy’s cum like a good fucking girl.” Chris grunted, collapsing on top of her exhausted body. He had continued to thrust sloppily into her while he came, and only stopped when he was completely done, and his hand reached down to swipe at her still full pussy, where his seed was dripping out of her, “You couldn’t even keep it all in, could you?”

With his finger, he gathered some of his cum which was leaking out of her, yanking her hair with his other hand to lift up her head. And she was a ragdoll, so completely drained of any energy, only able to part her lips weakly as he fed her his cum, lapping at his finger until it was clean. And then they just lay there, and whether it was a few minutes or more, she couldn’t tell because she was still so fucked out. But it felt nice, his body so big and warm on top of her. His taut, muscular abs and hard chest, smattered with hair, flush against her used, abused and bruised body.

She sighed happily.

Eventually, Chris shifted off of her, his dick still lodged inside her of her as he lay down next to her. And she snuggled up close to him, “That… That was amazing.”

No answer.

“Really, I missed you so much, Chris.” She tried again, hand reaching up to graze against his chest. And he looked so handsome; with a sheen of sweat glazing his body, his brown hair messy yet not completely dishevelled – unlike hers – and his eyes a dark, dark blue as his gaze raked down her body. Almost as if he was admiring his own handiwork: admiring the angry bruises on her hips, the splotchy handprints on her ass, the redness of her throat. She knew he was getting hard again. Sometimes, Chris would fuck her all night, his stamina seemingly never-ending, making them go at it again and again and again till the sun was rising and she was passing out and begging him to stop.

She hoped that wouldn’t happen now. Not before she’d had a chance to speak to him, tell him all about her day, and yesterday, and all of the past week – if only he’d ask. And anyways, he had been so rough this time, she was sure she couldn’t handle another round of fucking – he’d truly break her in two.

“I missed you too, princess.” Chris said finally, pressing his lips against her in the softest kiss he’d given her all night. And she glowed, heart soaring because he missed her! Often, after a particularly hard and degrading fucking, these dark thoughts would enter her mind: does he really care about me? Does he really love me? Does what we have mean anything to him? But then he’d kiss her softly and tell her he missed her – like he did just now – and she’d stomp those thoughts away like they were cockroaches because of course he cared! Of course, he did!

He did. He did. He did.

“I was thinking about fucking you all day.” Chris said, his hands, so calloused, warm and big, slipping up and down her body, gripping her poor sore hips till she winced. “All I could think about was this fucking body.” He laughed, squeezing her ass playfully – except she yelped in pain. “I still have those videos you sent me, but I think I’m gonna need more to get me through the next few weeks of filming.”

She smiled, clearing her throat slightly and ignoring the throbbing pain emanating from her core, “There’s so much I have to tell you, Chris. You won’t believe what happened this morning! I was on my –”

“Tell me tomorrow, princess.” Chris yawned, “I’m beat after the day I’ve had, been up since 5am yesterday.”

“Oh.” She wilted.

It was with great pain that she got up – about ten minutes later – to go to the bathroom. Every step she took hurt – shooting pain jolting her hips. Red marks on her body were already turning purple, and she knew the soreness in her muscles was about to increase tenfold come morning. And with each painful step she took towards the bathroom, she remembered a time when Chris would run her a bath after a particularly hard fucking. How he’d gently carry her, clean her up, tenderly wash her hair, kiss her softly as he did it, call her his special girl.

He's tired, she reassured herself. He’s been on set all day! The director probably has him doing all sorts of stunts and fight scenes.

She returned to the bedroom after a while, expecting to find Chris asleep. Instead, he was on his phone, texting someone again. But her slow shuffling distracted him, and he dropped his phone as he stared at her naked form slowly making its way over to the bed.

“Wow.” Chris said, hand going down to palm his dick which was already hard again, “I really did a number on you this time, didn’t I?” His eyes were dark, so dark and blown out with lust as he stared at her battered body, and she couldn’t help but shiver under his gaze.

“That’s okay.” She said softly, “I liked it.”

He smirked, pumping his dick with more vigour, “I know you did, princess. That’s why I love you so much.” And then those shadows took over his face, those shadows she knew all too well. He licked his lips, “Why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me, sweetheart?” He asked.

Except they both knew it wasn’t a question.

“B-But…” But I thought you were tired, she had wanted to say that, but caught herself in the nick of time.

Chris’ eyes narrowed as he got to his feet on the side of the bed, “What was that?” The threat was clear in his words.

“Noth…Nothing.” She stuttered; palms suddenly sweaty.

He smiled, and was it possible for someone to look angelic yet threatening at the same time? “That’s what I thought, princess. Don’t act like you don’t want it. What did I tell you? What did I say good girlfriends do?”

“Good girlfriends take daddy’s dick whenever daddy wants.” She sniffed.

Chris loves me, she thought as she got on her hands and knees, with every muscle in her body aching and about to give out. Chris loves me, she thought through gritted teeth, grimacing at his rough hands grabbing at her bruised hips once more. Chris loves me, she thought when she felt the stroke of his tip against her dripping slit. Chris loves me, she thought as the tears threatened to spill down onto the bedsheets below her, and she felt his cock stroke against her asshole. Chris loves me. He loves me. He loves me.

“I love how you obey me.” Chris said, and then he began his assault.

The end

A/N: Hello to everyone who read till the end! I hope you enjoyed this. I really wanted to challenge myself and write Chris as a super dark and toxic boyfriend type character. In fact, I stopped it there because it was kind of getting too dark, lmfao. Also, this has not been proofread so sorry for any errors! Please do tell me what you think!

#chris evans #dark chris evans #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #captain america #avengers #fanfic #dark #steve rogers

2K notes · View notes