Marvel: The Devil’s Reign

The bathroom was filled with steam, hot water cascading over JM's sculpted frame, but it did little to silence the thoughts swirling in his mind.

A single moment—just a touch—had embedded itself in his consciousness, refusing to be dismissed.

Steve Rogers.

JM clenched his jaw, rubbing a hand through his wet hair. He had faced cosmic horrors, battled gods, and crushed empires, yet one man—one mortal—was threatening the equilibrium of his mind. He scoffed at his own reaction, his piercing eyes narrowing at his reflection in the mirror.

He was no fool. Steve was an obstacle—one wrapped in golden virtue and unyielding ideals, but an obstacle nonetheless. And yet, the system was adamant.

[Mission: Increase Steve Rogers' Dependence on You. Progress: 5%]

A paltry increase. JM had torn down pantheons with less effort, yet here he was, ensnared in a game of delicate maneuvering.

He exhaled sharply, pulling on a crisp black shirt. If Steve thought he could dictate the terms of their relationship, he was sorely mistaken.

JM stepped out into the dimly lit penthouse, scanning the space. Empty. Steve's boots remained by the doorway, his jacket draped over the chair. The Captain was still here.

With calculated ease, JM's gaze flickered to the guest room door.

Locked.

A smirk ghosted across his lips.

So that's how it is?

He knocked, voice calm yet laced with something dangerous. "Steve."

A pause. Then, a muffled, sleepy voice. "What?"

JM leaned against the doorframe, amusement playing in his tone. "Why is the door locked?"

"…Do you need something?"

"Interesting." JM tapped his fingers against the wood. "Do you think locking the door keeps me out?"

A long silence. Then, Steve's exasperated sigh. "JM, I'm tired."

"I can fix that."

"…You're impossible."

JM chuckled, pushing off the door. "Get some rest, Captain. We have work to do tomorrow."

He walked away, his smirk lingering. The game had begun, and Steve, whether he realized it or not, had just placed his first piece on the board.

Morning came swiftly. JM was already awake, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse as the sun rose over New York City. He had let Steve sleep, knowing full well that exhaustion could be an ally in breaking a man's defenses.

A soft sound drew his attention. He turned to find Steve standing near the dining table, eyeing the neatly arranged breakfast. A cup of black coffee, protein-rich food, everything tailored to the soldier's needs.

Steve picked up a small note beside his plate.

Eat. You need the strength. - JM

Steve huffed, shaking his head, but he sat down nonetheless.

From across the room, JM watched. He took a slow sip of his own coffee, the system's notification appearing in his mind.

[Progress: 8%]

A smirk played on his lips.

The Captain was predictable. And predictability was something JM excelled at exploiting.

Meanwhile, across the city, Tony Stark paced in his lab, frowning at the holographic display of an encrypted message.

"Tell me I'm not crazy, FRIDAY."

[You are many things, Boss. Crazy is an ongoing debate.]

Tony rolled his eyes. "Then tell me why Rogers is suddenly spending so much time with the most dangerous man on the planet?"

[Perhaps he enjoys the challenge.]

Tony scoffed. "Or he's playing with fire."

He stared at the screen. One thing was certain—if Steve was getting tangled up with JM, it wouldn't be long before the entire Avengers team was dragged into the storm.

And this was a storm no one was prepared for.