#Steve Rogers x reader dark fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago

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young ladies shouldn’t waltz with vampires

a/n: happy halloween!!! here's the fic you guys voted on and shaped a few weeks ago

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

summary: “so, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…”

warnings: vampire!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x vampire!steve rogers, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, historical au (1840s), mind control/vampire compulsion, blood, biting, age gap, ball, dancing, polyamory, threesome, first kiss, kissing, loss of virginity, somno, cockwarming, dirty talk, size kink, pain kink, pussyjob, overstimulation, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex

word count: 3511

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“I have to admit, out of every rose here, you’re the most breathtaking.”

Glancing up from the table before you, cluttered with crystal glasses brimming with refreshments, your eyes flickered to the man now standing beside you, his own piercing blue stare firmly directed at you and no one else in the buzzing ballroom.

Your stunned lips parted slightly before the gentleman boldly spoke up again, “how come I’ve never seen you before?”

Feeling your breath hitch, you managed to babble, “oh, it’s probably because this is my first time at a proper ball. I haven’t really previously been allowed to come stay at my family’s London estate and–, I’m sorry…” you swiftly stopped yourself, sensing the heat that had ridden in your cheeks, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this…”

“Well, lucky us that you got let out of your cage and the rest of us finally get to gaze upon your beauty,” he flashed you a dazzling smile before his eyes flickered to someone behind you, “if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I recognise, but would you perhaps grant me the pleasure of a dance a little later?”

Averting your gaze, a smile tugged at your lips as you uttered, “you’d have to ask my brother.”

“But I’m asking you,” he dipped down to catch your vision, “would you care to dance with me?”

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but let out the truth.

“Y-yes.”

As a smile swiftly tilted his lips, the gentleman then bowed slightly before you as he plucked up your gloved hand and pressed his lips to the back of it before disappearing into the merry crowd.

Feeling slightly dizzy, you finally snatched up the drink you’d originally wandered to this corner of the chamber to fetch.

Though as you granted yourself a small sip, fingers suddenly grasped your arm and yanked you deeper into a corner.

“Sister!” you blinked up into your brother’s eyes as he’d evidently spotted you from across the ballroom and, judging by his tone, not approved of what he’d seen, “what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Ripping your arm free, you furrowed your brows, “what are you talking about? I was just getting some punch.”

“No,” he hissed at a hushed volume, “why were you talking to him?”

A confused scoff then bubbled out past your lips, “I’ve talked to plenty of men at this party, with and without you at my side, so why is he any different?”

“Because, sister,” he leaned down a bit further, “he’s not a man. He’s one of them,” his eyes scanned your own before he spelled it out, “a vampire.”

Though you’d never previously encountered one yourself, you still weren’t so naive to not be aware of the known influential status such creatures of the night had in the society you lived in. Them being in attendance at a fine ball was nothing compared to the other privileges they had achieved over the centuries.

“Really?” you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder, though didn’t spot the bloodsucker again.

“God,” your brother groaned quietly, “I know mother and papa have kept you rather sheltered compared to myself, but trust me, you have to stay away from them. They’re monsters, killing is in their nature,” with a hand on your cheek, he guided your gaze back to his, “promise me you won’t speak to one ever again.”

Blinking back at him, you then uttered sincerely, “I promise.”

“Good,” a visible weight then faded from his shoulders as he let go of you and straightened back up to his full height.

As you stayed on the outskirts of the party, one of your fingers curved to trace the lines of the fine glass still clutched in your grasp.

Soon your eyes flickered up from the liquid remaining in the goblet and landed on the other guests. Elegant crinoline gowns swooshed and swayed to the music emanating from the small string quartet in the corner, acting as a heartbeat for the lords and ladies of London as they danced the night away.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” a voice then found not only your brother’s ears, but yours as well.

Twisting slightly, you watched as a wide grin swiftly stretched your brother’s lips, “Thomas!” he spread his arms out for the redheaded man nearly within his reach.

As they pulled each other into a tight hug, your brother’s friend chimed in his ear, “how you doing, old chap?” before withdrawing from the embrace, though still kept one palm fast on your sibling’s shoulder.

“Not bad, not bad–, oh, Tommy,” your brother then suddenly glanced back at you, “this is my little sister,” gesturing betwixt you both, “sister, this is Thomas, we went to boarding school together.”

Extending a hand, you smiled politely, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook your palm before casting his gaze back upon your chaperone, “would you mind if I stole your brother for a moment?”

“Uhm,” you glanced to your sibling before uttering, “no, of course not. Go, have fun, catch up.”

And before the pair slipped away, your brother leaned down to whisper in your ear, “be good till I get back,” to which you offered him a nod in return right before they both vanished from your sight and left you alone at the edge of the dance floor.

Though as you slowly began to wander along the perimeter, your gaze once again affixed upon the sea of swaying pairs in the centre of the ballroom, your gentle stride then abruptly halted as a bulky figure shifted to pass you, though as the stranger attempted to, the two of you collided and the remainder of the drink in your hand splashed across his jacket.

You both froze as you slowly peeled your wide eyes up from the stain of your drink, that lightly dripped from his clothing, and instead flickered up to find the stare of the aristocrat you’d accidentally bumped into.

“Oh god…” your heartbeat swiftly hammered in your ears, deafening out the elegant music that filled the chamber, “sir, I am so sorry, I-I wasn’t looking at where I was going and–”

“It’s alright,” he hastily put an end to your blubbering as he eyed the soaked patch, “it’ll dry,” he uttered, running a broad palm down over the wetness. Though as his gaze flickered back up to find yours, a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he then said, “well, spilling your drink on me, the least you can do is offer me your name so that I know who to warn about to the people who actually are precious about their attire.”

“Lady Y/n Y/l/n,” you averted your gaze as your knees bent in a gentle curtsy, “delighted to make your acquaintance, even under the circumstances–, again, I am so incredibly sorry…”

“You’re a lady but with such lack of grace? Well, now I understand why you aren’t on the floor dancing with someone,” he jested in a teasing tone.

The heat that had already crept up in your cheeks fiercely worsened, “I am a great dancer, I’ll have you know!”

“Oh really?” a smile dazzled his features, “I think I’ll have to see that to believe it,” he spoke as the current song came to an end and he extended a hand out to you, “shall we?”

For a moment, you let your glance flicker about the chamber in search of your brother, though when you couldn’t spot him, you found your own palm thinking for itself and gliding into the man’s standing tall before you.

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, the palm he slid across your waist, and used to guide you a smidge closer to his own frame, caused a shy gasp to slip past your lips long before your feet began to shift below your poofy plum coloured gown.

“Well, I guess you weren’t lying after all,” you soon heard him note after you’d danced for a minute, your movements having been nothing short of perfection since the very first step.

Blinking up at the blonde man holding onto you tight, you finally asked, “what is your name, sir?”

“Lord Steven Rogers,” the title rolled off his tongue as his own gaze kept yours captive, “at your service, my lady.”

“Are you from here? You don’t sound it,” you commented on his accent, “but are you?”

“That’s a good question,” a slight tilt found his head, “London is one of my favourite places and I have spent many of my years here, but it’s not where I’m from, no.”

“So, you’ve travelled a lot?” you asked as he spun you an arm’s length away from himself.

“You could say that…” he smirked as he twirled you back into his hold, “are you?”

“Am I what?” you found yourself slightly dizzy, though not from the dancing.

“From London?”

“Well, my family does have a place here, but I haven’t spent much of my time in the city. At least not yet, I’m hoping I can begin to now that I’m grown, though to be quite frank, I have no idea where to start.”

“I could be your guide,” his offer caught you off guard, “it might have been a few years since I last called this city my home, but I still know it like the back of my hand.”

Mouth shyly agape, you simply blinked back at him a second before uttering, “perhaps if my brother came along as a chaperone.”

“I thought you said you were grown,” the tone he used to deliver his teasing seeped directly into your bones and made you thankful of his firm grip on you as the pair of you continued to sway to the music, “a girl asks for permission and can’t be trusted on her own, but a woman however, takes exactly what she desires and doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way…” his smouldering stare then briefly dipped before you heard him murmur, “so, what are you? A little girl or a woman?”

“I–…” you blinked back at him, struggling to navigate the exhilaratingly foreign situation you found yourself in. However, before you could stammer any further, the song came to a close and the surrounding couples parted ways.

Though before you could take even one step back, his hand kept you close a moment longer as he dipped down for his breath to tickle the shell of your ear.

“Meet me in the garden,” he whispered, causing even more goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “then you can give me your answer...”

The cool night air kissed your cheeks as your glance flickered away from the candlelit terrace you’d abandoned only moments prior in order to stand beside the bushy mouth of the dark hedge maze further down the expanse of the estate’s garden. Faint music still found your ears as it echoed out the open windows of the grand manor where the ball still boomed.

Then suddenly, as you were lost in your thoughts of disbelief at what you were doing, just before you could talk yourself into returning to the party, you felt your hand be grabbed before your eyes fluttered up to find the lord you’d been awaiting, his arrival haven been so sudden that it nearly caused you to jump straight out of your skin.

Without a single word, Steve began to drag you into the maze, far away from any prying eyes and where the darkness could swallow you both whole.

“Where are you taking me–,” you attempted to ask, though as the man then abruptly stopped, what he did next stunned you to your very core.

Pulling you close, closer than you’d ever been to any man before, he then pressed his lips to your own, sufficiently shutting you up before you could elaborate your question any further.

The kiss was abrupt, fevered and entirely your first, leaving you dazed and reeling to catch up to the reality, to the dream you were finally expecting.

When Steve finally felt you relax into him, his feet began to shuffle and shift you back till your spine was pressed up against the denseness of the hedge behind you.

But just as a shy whimper from you vibrated against his tongue and your fingers drifted up to whisper around his silky necktie, the snapping of a twig suddenly found your ears and caused you to jump away from your dance partner.

Casting your glance over Steve’s broad shoulder, you spotted as the dark-haired gentleman, that your brother had so fiercely warmed you about, slithered out from the embrace of the shadows.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” the man smirked, folding his arms across his wide chest as he continued to stare.

Eyes wide, you then began to stammer, “Steve,” lightly patting your partner’s arm as he hadn’t yet shifted to protect you with an air of understanding, “h-he’s a–”

“A vampire?” the aristocratic creature raised an eyebrow, “how about you take another look at the lord that just had his tongue down your throat.”

Your panicked glare then fluttered back to Steve in front of you, however, before you could manage to push him away, his hands flew up to either side of your face and he dipped down to stare into your eyes with an intense you’d never witnessed before, somehow locking you up in his gaze as he then compelled you, “don’t scream,” and under the moonlight, you swore you saw his pupils briefly dilate as his wish slithered into your soul, “stay calm.”

Continuing to cup your cheeks, Steve then kissed you once again. Even though his previous words had turned you completely docile in his hold, the sensation of his lips as they soon pecked away from your own, on a determined journey down over your jaw, caused you to melt away that much further.

The neckline of your deep purple gown was so wide that it exposed not only your shoulders, but also crept down scandalously low on your chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut once more as his kisses tickled in their path down your neck, the sensation shooting straight down between your thighs. However, as soon as Steve’s lips were devouring the tender spot where the base of your throat blossomed into your shoulder, a sharp pain suddenly caused your eyes to snap back open as the vampire had sunk his teeth into you.

You winced slightly as blood began to trickle free, your gaze locked with the other man’s as he took a step forward and closed the gap. Standing directly behind Steve, his hand then raised up to stroke your hair.

“So, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…”

Though you’d barely gotten to sleep an hour, you began to stir as the vampire sprawled out in front of your slumbering form kissed down your neck and swiftly sank his fangs into your shoulder.

Wincing awake and still weak from the blood the two lords had already drained you off, your hiss soon faded into a mumble, “Buck…”

Tilting his chin back a bit, Bucky lapped up the crimson that trickled down from the bite before he whispered, “shh, you can just stay asleep…” and you noticed his hardness straining against you below the covers, “it’s okay, I don’t mind…”

You couldn’t fathom how the vampire still wasn’t satiated after everything that had happened that night, things a lady such as yourself had never dared to even imagine possible. Even now, you were still slotted in between the two naked men under the canopy of a bed in the grand estate they’d taken you to, your virgin blood still staining the sheets, or the little of it that they hadn’t lapped up for themselves to savour.

Though the restless one before you had stirred you for another taste, Steve was still sleeping like a rock. He was laying directly behind you, his burly chest still pressed up against your spine as earlier, when he’d impulsively tried to stretch out your ass, made the decision to do something about that impossible tightness and have that little hole warm his intimidating girth while he slumbered. It made it difficult, to say the least, for rest to come to you as the sensation of his fat cock plugging you up was nearly too much for you to bear.

“Oh, what is it?” Bucky chuckled lowly at the wince you let out as he began to nudge his dick against your puffy pussy, “are you sore?” he asked in a mocking tone, grinning wider as you nodded hazily in response, “but you like it, don’t you?” he torturously tapped the weight of his length against the creamy mess between your thighs, the sensation causing both your holes to throb and clench, making Steve’s cock still embedded deep within you seem that much more enormous, “you like it when it hurts, when the sting of pain mixes with pleasure…” he then caught your eye and compelled you, “tell me that you like it.”

“I like it,” you hear the desperate word flow out your lungs, “please don’t stop, please keep hurting me, keep biting me, drink every drop of my blood, use me however you wish, it all feels so good–, ah!” the pleas he’d made you utter were then cut off by a rippling moan as his bulbous tip suddenly caught your entrance and greedily slid back into your warmth.

The fierce rhythm Bucky swiftly found rocked you so roughly that the movements didn’t just split your poor pussy open as he bucked up into you, but it also caused your frame to shift back against Steve and sink you down that much further on his cock, letting his heavy sack nuzzle tightly against your slick skin.

As your whimpers filled the room and mingled with Bucky’s own grunts of pleasure, you felt the girth in your ass twitch and rapidly grow painfully hard before the arm the slumbering bloodsucker had slumped around your waist tightened as he stirred with a low rumble directly in your ear.

“Mmm… having a little midnight snack, are we?” Steve groggily hummed from behind you as he nuzzled his nose into your tousled hair, “you know she’ll pass out soon if we keep drinking like this.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bucky then slid his palm down the length of your arm, plucking up your hand till his lips ghosted against it. However, just as you let yourself hope that he’d just plant a peck upon your palm, his teeth instead pierced the flesh, right below your thumb. Although, the vampire did show some restraint as he only offered you a little nip before ripping your hand away from his mouth and holding it out for his partner to grasp, “here, you look parched,” blood already began to pool like a little puddle in your palm from how it slowly oozes out of the wound.

Accepting the delicacy, Steve first dragged his silky tongue over the bite, before he let his fangs sink into you with a deep groan, the taste of you only making him harder. As he began to drink from your palm, his hips greedily began to rock, making you tremble between the two lords of the night from the dizzying manner they both now fucked you.

As your moans filled the night air, Bucky’s fingers found your face in a caress before he leaned in to snuff out your sounds and let you taste the tangy iron of yourself on his tongue. Soon, his kisses began to dance down over the column of your neck, till his face was buried in your heaving tits, leaving a blossoming trail of hickeys to mark his path as he moved down to capture your nipple between his lips.

“I know we usually only keep our dinner till the morning comes,” Bucky muttered as he nipped at your boobs, only pausing to briefly glance over your shoulder at the man behind you, “but there’s something different about this one, don’t you agree, Steve?”

“She’s fucking delicious…” you heard him purr in your ear, “maybe you could be more than just a quick bite to eat…” both of their cocks continued to rock in harmony, filling your holes up to more than the brim, “maybe you can be our girl…”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you tilted your head to catch both of their eyes, “for how long?”

Keeping his neck tilted, Bucky blinked up at you and uttered, “…forever,” before he buried his teeth into the soft peak of your tit.

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planetallure · 6 months ago

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⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ dark!fic recs

CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.

@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.

"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.

"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.

"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.

"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.

"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.

"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.

"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.

"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.

"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.

i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.

@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.

“rise” - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series i’ve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her “the day the world ended” universe and it completely blew me away. i couldn’t believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.

“when the bough breaks” - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smut…makes up for it. yes yes.

“i burn” - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.

“one way or another” - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. that’s it.

“something wicked this way comes” - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.

"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.

@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.

"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.

"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."

"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"

@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"

"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.

@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.

"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.

@perlelune

"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.

"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone

"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(

@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.

"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.

"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure

"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.

"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.

"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.

"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)

@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3

#lari's fic recs #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #dark!ethan landry #dark!ethan landry x reader #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!random drysdale x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #rafe x reader #jj x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 days ago

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Another Heartbeat

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, captivity, elements/suggestions of feederism behaviour, breeding, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You get your valentine's surprise.

Based on responses: Lap sitting, breeding, creampie, plus size reader, being carried

Characters: Steve Rogers

This is #2 of the Valentines Roulette stories

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You wince as the light aches in your eyelids. You stay hidden behind them as you raise your hand shakily. Your lashes wet with tears as you search for the strength to open them. You hunch down and slump further into the corner.

“Sweetheart,” his deep timbre fills the cramped space. “Hey, are you awake?”

You sense him come closer. You don’t have the voice to answer him. Are you awake? This feels like another rotten nightmare.

“Sweetheart?” His shadow dulls the glare shining through the open door. Open... there was a time when all you did was stare through the dark and pray for those hinges to turn. “It’s a special day.”

He touches your shoulder. You flinch. He curls his hand around your arm and slides you against the wall to sit straight. He catches your head as it bobbles on your neck.

“You can behave, can’t you?” His thumb brushes your cheekbone and he cooes at your witless murmuring. “I know you can be good for me. You have been.”

Your eyes are like marbles, threatening to roll back. The days, weeks, months, however long, blend together in blackness. The only light comes through when he slides back that narrow latch and pushes through the tray. A thick bitter smoothie and bland food. Nothing sugary or processed. You eat it or...

You shudder as your teeth ache at the memory of the metal clamp pushing open against them. The strain of your esophagus and the churning of stomach acid. No, you eat on your own and it keeps him happy. Nice, even.

“Alright, let’s get you ready, sweetheart,” he slips an arm behind you and another under your knees. He lifts you effortlessly. “Oh, sweetie,” he purrs, “you’re so...” his hand squeezes along your hip. “Soft.”

The food comes like clockwork. You clear the tray and push it back every time. You feel it engorging you, adding to the cushion around your hips and belly. Even your chest feels bigger.

He carries you into the light. You turn your head and hide your face against his hard chest. If you open your eyes, they’ll burn out of the sockets. It’s too bright. You cradle your face as all of your trembles.

“I know, sweetheart, gotta build up your strength,” he coaxes.

The motion of the world around you adds to the dizzy spin in your head. You lean into him as you feel like you might fall out of his grasp, even as he holds you snug. He finally puts you down. You fold over your lap instantly and he pushes you back up.

“Work with me,” he pets your hair.

You tense and quiver as you hold yourself up. You stopped standing up a while back, stopped trying to get any sort of exercise in that space. A cell. The prison he made for you.

“Alright, we’re going to get you cleaned up.”

His knuckles brush down your temples and cheek, then along your neck. He follows the silhouette of your body along your shoulders and arms. He gently reaches behind your neck to untie the knot behind it. He peels away the open back linen gown.

You shiver as your head hangs like a boulder.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he says.

You shudder and ball your hands. You exhale as your eyes singe with the effort. You have to obey or...

You whimper as you pry your lids open. He cradles your chin and forces your head up. Tears roll out and flow down your face. Everything around you is harsh yet fuzzy.

“I know, sweetie, gotta adjust,” he stands and lets you go cautiously.

You quake as you lean back against the cold tank of the toilet. He turns and dims the lights. You let your head sink again and watch the tile. The last time you saw those dainty blue diamonds, there was water splashed all around, your body was thrashing, your voice shrill and dry.

You jolt as you come back to the present. He lowers you into the tub as hot water laps down from the faucet. The steam rises around you in a cloud as he helps you recline against the porcelain.

His deep voice rises from his large chest. You stare at his shirt. He sings as he washes you with a cloth, suds foaming round his thick fingers. Your eyes creep up to thick beard along his jaw. His eyes are as bright as gems as they focus on his task. Everything is bright.

And heavy and rough. Just the cotton is enough to make your skin crawl. After so long in desolation, it’s like sandpaper. His voice is low but rattles your eardrums. The song plucks at your brain but you can’t place the memory.

What was before?

“Till the end of time, Long as stars are in the blue, long as there’s a spring, a bird to sing, I’ll go on loving you.”

You close your eyes and moan. He clucks.

“No, don’t go to sleep,” he bids.

Your eyes snap open. He continues his work. When he’s done, he lifts you out, leaning you against him as he wraps you in a towel. There’s a warm smell wafting from your skin.

He dries you meticulously and replaces the towel with a robe. He takes you to a new room. He sits you at a table with a framed picture of a woman above it. You blink as he moves beside the woman. It’s not a picture. It’s a mirror.

Is that really you?

He moves behind you and tugs at your hair. He pauses to check something as he arranges it. Some sort of instruction? Then he shifts you to face him. He uses pencils and brushes on you; tugging at your eyelids and spinning a wand against your lashes.

He puts you to face the mirror again. You look shinier. You? That’s you?

He dresses you in red. A plush cloud of fabric in light layers, with roses on the bodice, a short robe with puffed sleeves. He guides you before a bigger mirror. Tall. He stands behind you as he makes you look.

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart,” he drags his hands up and down your sides. “You ready for your surprise?”

You mouth the words. You don’t think you can speak. He smiles and sits you on the cushioned stool again.

“I almost forgot about me.”

He leaves you and opens the closet. You watch his back. He’s so big. Tall, broad shoulders, thick hands.

Your eyes list to the door. You can’t stand without him. You press your soles to the floor and your calves shake. No, you won’t get very far.

“I can hear your excitement,” he turns with hangers hooked over a finger and taps on his chest with the other. “Sweetheart, you’re going to love it.”

He goes behind a folding screen painted with golden feathers. You can see his head above it as he changes. He emerges, knotting a patterned silk tie over his crisp white shirt. The jacket is a pale shade of grey that somehow makes his eyes bluer.

He nears and bends to check himself in the mirror. He combs his long hair back. His thick strands and beard don’t match the formality of his attire.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

He stands straight and bends his arm. You stare at it before your head clicks. He helps you stand and loops your arm through his. He walks you into the hallway. Your legs wobble dangerously.

He stops you before a closed door. There’s a small wooden sign hung on it that shows a stork. You frown. You wonder what it means. You waver as you expect him to put you back into the dark. You step back on your heel and whimper.

“Sweetie, you’re being good. You can stay out.”

He turns the crystal door knob. Something about the decor feels so... out of time. He pushes the door inward and unhooks his arm from yours. He guides you by your shoulders into the room, staying behind you.

The first thing you see are balloons. Big round balloons with pink ribbons and bows attached to them. The latex shines in shades of rose, blush, and ivory. They’re tied to the furniture that fills the room.

The walls are painted in shades of pastel, one is a forest scene with critters and birds behind branches and stones. There’s a dresser and a table with a pad on top. A chair and a matching ottoman, a rug that looks softer than a cloud, and at the center of it all, a crib. Above hangs a mobile with stars and moon.

“Happy Valentine's, sweetheart, you’ve been so good,” he praises as he trails his touch down your arm and takes your hand. He draws you around the room. “You like it?”

Your stomach stirs uneasily. You nod despite the violent tide inside you. This isn’t right. What is this?

“I knew you would. And you can help finish it. The little things. You know, I don’t have a good eye for the details,” he turns you to take it all in. The windows. There’s no sunlight coming in. Are they even real windows? They are just frames nailed to a wall.

“Come on,” he brings you to the chair and he sits. He tugs you by the hand. You nearly collapse. “Right here.”

He pats his thigh. You turn and he helps you sit. He pulls you against him to recline as the back lowers with his lean. He extends his legs onto the ottoman, yours with them.

He sighs as you lay atop him. He traces the length of your arms then feels along your torso, squeezing the padding along your stomach and chest. You squirm uncomfortably.

“You been eating good. Drinking your smoothies. Getting your vitamins,” he says. “I can see how good you’ve been.”

His hands stop on your thighs. He rubs the fabric then slowly drags it up with his fingers, crumpling it high above your naked legs. He tickles you and you wince as he kneads you more firmly.

His hand trails beneath the bunched skirt and he pets long your curly patch of hair. You hold your breath and tense. He pushes his fingertip between your folds and your voice trickles out in a squeak.

He rubs you as your insides squirm. You shift and he spreads his other hand across your stomach to still you. You slicken beneath his teasing touch. Your legs fall apart as he pushes his hand further back.

He exhales over you and drags his hand around your thigh. He slides it under you and his knuckles press into you as he plucks at his pants. He pushes his fly open as you wriggle against him. He shifts you up his body as his other hand dips down to your pelvis.

He angles you down as he guides his tip long your cunt. You arch your back as he wet himself with your juices. He delves into you slowly and you latch onto his wrist. You convulse as he gets deeper and deeper.

He rolls his hip, gliding out and back in. You clench around him and measure your breath around the tension in your muscles. He pushes in and you whine. He keeps a slow, even tempo as he stretches a finger down to toy with your clit.

“I was reading a lot. They say it’s better when you cum. To make sure it takes.”

His words confuse you. You can barely think as he makes his long thrusts. You brace the armrest as he unravels you tilt by tilt.

He swirls his fingers as a fiery cluster blooms in your core. You push your feet down around his, digging into the cushion of the ottoman. You strain and writhe as your voice breaks through the brittleness of your throat. You twitch as the heat within unfurls into icy tendrils.

He hums as he urges you through but doesn’t let up. He pumps into faster as his fingers keep their tempo. The layers of clothes build a fire between you, raising a sheet of sweat over your skin. He groans as he fucks you from below.

His feet slip from the ottoman as it slides beyond his height. He plants his soles on the floor, rutting up into you as your legs splay wide. Your body bounces helplessly and you cling to the chair and moan, drowning in the shallowness of your breath.

“I can feel how ready you are, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth. His hand roves up to your chest and he squeezes, your nipple throbbing tenderly. “You’re going to be a good mommy.”

You shudder and gasp, your ribs wracking in dread. He groans and fucks you harder, puffing over your hair.

“Sweetie, are you ready? Tell me you’re ready? You gonna make me a daddy?”

You gulp and cough, head lolling as you cling onto his arm. He hammers into you harder and harder.

“Tell me,” he snarls.

“Y-y-yesssss,” you rasp from your tortured through.

He grunts and spasms, a warmth flooding inside you as his pace turns wild. You close your eyes and they sting with another swell of tears. The painted walls, the glowing the balloons, it’s all so much worse than that black cell.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #valentines roulette #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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sosa2imagines · 16 days ago

Text

My girl.

Warning- Soft dark Bucky and Steve, manipulate, spiking drink, planning and kidnapping maybe?, possesiveness, jealousy, 6.6k words.

You tug at the hem of the black dress Natasha had lent you, feeling a little out of your comfort zone but enjoying the way it hugs your curves. Even Thor, your ever-blunt best friend, had taken a moment to whistle in appreciation when he saw you. “Damn, Sweets, if I wasn't already taken...” he'd teased with a wink, earning a playful slap from Wanda.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Thank you, but come on lets go, Natasha is waiting for us!!!”

Now, inside the nightclub, you were mesmerized. The music was pulsing through the air, vibrating under your skin, and the flashing lights created an electric energy that makes it impossible not to get caught up in the atmosphere. Wanda and Thor were already pulling you towards the bar, but your gaze lingers, scanning the crowd.

That’s when you see them.

Two men, both wearing baseball caps, an odd choice in a place like this. One has short blond hair, his face sharp yet friendly even under the dim lighting. But it’s the other one who catches your attention. Dark brown hair falls slightly into his eyes, piercing blue beneath the brim of his cap. He’s leaning against the bar, his expression unreadable, yet there’s something about him... something dark, something intriguing.

You quickly look away when Thor hands you a shot, grinning widely. “To a great night!” he declares. You, Wanda, and Thor clink glasses and down the shots, the burn spreading warmth through your veins. Laughter bubbles out of you, as Natasha joins and drags you to the dance floor, and soon you're lost in the music, swaying and spinning with the beat.

Little do you know, the two guys in the caps were watching you.

The blond one, Steve, nudges his friend with a knowing smirk. “See something you like?”

Bucky’s lips curl at the corner, his eyes never leaving you as you move effortlessly to the music. The lights catch on your skin, your smile lighting up your face in a way that sends a spark through him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and dark. “I do.”

The music pulses through your body, and you let yourself get lost in it, swaying and twirling under the flashing lights. Laughter spills from Wanda and Natasha as they dance beside you, their energy infectious.

But despite the music and the crowd, your thoughts drift back to those two guys.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you glance back toward where you first saw them, only to find the spot empty.

Your brows furrow slightly. You could’ve sworn they were there...

Before you can finish the thought, some movement catches your eye. They're closer now. Much closer.

The dark-haired one with those piercing blue eyes stands near the edge of the dance floor, his gaze locked onto you like he’s been watching your every move. The blond one leans in to say something to him, but Bucky doesn’t react, his focus entirely on you.

You swallow hard, a strange mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in your chest.

And then it happens, gradually at first. The more you move, the closer they seem to get. Each beat of the music shortens the distance until, before you realize it, there’s a presence behind you.

A warmth at your back.

Your heart stumbles in your chest as you turn, and suddenly, he’s there. The dark-haired stranger stands close, almost too close. The sharp angles of his jawline, the way his eyes pierce right through you, leave you momentarily speechless. Up close, he’s even more devastatingly handsome, and your brain screams at you to keep it together.

He offers you a small, almost sly smile and reaches out, taking your hand in his. His grip is firm but gentle, sending an unexpected thrill down your spine.

“I'm Bucky.” he says, his voice deep and smooth, laced with something that makes your breath hitch.

You blink, trying to ground yourself, “Y/n…” you manage, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks as you force yourself to meet his intense gaze.

The moment lingers, and with a shy smile, you turn back to Wanda and Natasha, hoping to gather your scattered thoughts. They’re both watching with matching grins, their expressions practically screaming “we saw that.” Your cheeks heat further, and you shake your head, laughing nervously.

It isn’t until you try to raise both hands to gesture at them that you realize something.

Bucky was still holding your hand.

Your eyes flick down in surprise, and when you look back up, there’s an unmistakable glint of amusement in his gaze. He gives your hand a light squeeze, as if testing whether you'll pull away.

You don’t.

Bucky tugs lightly at your hand, a silent invitation to follow him. Just as your feet begin to move, a familiar voice cuts through the music.

“Whoa, whoa, where do you think you're going?”

You turn to find Thor standing there, arms crossed and an amused yet protective look on his face. His gaze flickers to Bucky, sizing him up with that big-brother energy you’ve grown used to.

“Just to the bar.” Bucky says smoothly, but there's an edge to it, like he's not used to being questioned.

You introduce Bucky and Thor to each other.

Thor’s eyes narrow slightly, looking at Bucky, before turning to you. “Stay where I can see you, yeah?” His voice is light, but you know he’s serious.

You roll your eyes with a playful smile. “Yes, Dad!”

Satisfied, Thor gives Bucky one last look before heading back to Wanda and Natasha, who are too busy dancing and whispering to each other to notice much.

You finally let Bucky lead you through the crowd, feeling the warmth of his grip as he weaves effortlessly through the pulsing bodies. The bar is busy, but he navigates it like he’s been here a hundred times before.

“This is Steve…” Bucky says, nodding toward the blond guy in the cap you noticed earlier.

Steve offers a friendly smile, his blue eyes warm. “Nice to meet you.” he says, tipping his drink slightly in greeting.

“You too…” you reply, offering a small smile.

Bucky leans in a little closer, his voice low against your ear. “What’ll you have?”

You wave him off, feeling a little awkward under his gaze. “Oh, I’m good.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your answer. “C’mon, something.”

You glance around nervously, then mumble, “Uh… orange juice?”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it. Your brain practically screams at you, “Who on earth orders orange juice in a nightclub?”

Steve stifles a laugh behind his drink, and Bucky just smirks, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. “Orange juice, huh?” he muses, signaling the bartender. “Classy.”

You groan, covering your face for a second, “I panicked, okay?”

Bucky chuckles, leaning a little closer, “Don’t worry, doll. I like classy.”

Your heart does an embarrassing little flip at the nickname, and before you can come up with a response, he hands you the drink. The way his fingers brush yours sends a spark of warmth up your arm.

Before you can sip, Bucky’s hand returns to yours, leading you further away from the crowded bar area. You find yourself in a quieter corner of the club, where some people are lounging, some are smoking, and the music feels a little more distant.

Your nerves kick in again, but Bucky’s presence is oddly steadying. His gaze never leaves you, like he’s figuring you out piece by piece.

“So,” he says, leaning against the wall, “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

You take a tiny sip of your orange juice, trying not to cringe. “Apparently... making excellent drink choices.”

Bucky laughs, and you realize then how soft his smile can be despite the dark edge lingering beneath it.

You glance around the dimly lit corner of the club, your fingers tracing the cold glass of your orange juice. The air here feels heavier, laced with smoke and whispers of conversations that don’t quite reach you. Bucky stands close, his eyes never leaving your face as if he’s studying every flicker of emotion.

“Do you smoke?” he asks suddenly, his voice low and rough, cutting through the haze around you.

You shake your head, offering him a small smile. “No, not really my thing.”

He nods, then tilts his head. “Mind if I do?”

You glance at him, the way he stands with such quiet confidence, and shrug. “I don’t mind.”

With a smirk, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it with practiced ease, taking a slow drag before exhaling the smoke in a way that somehow makes your heart stumble. The glow of the cigarette highlights the sharpness of his features, casting shadows across his jaw.

You find yourself mesmerized…again.

And then, in that same soft, dangerous voice, he says it.

“You’re my girl now,” he murmurs, his eyes cutting through the smoke to meet yours. “If anyone comes near you... I’ll fucking kill them!”

Your breath catches, and for a split second, your mind flashes to your ex. He never said anything like that to you. Not once. Your brain screams at you to stop thinking about him, to stay in the present, but it’s too late. The comparison lingers.

You shake it off, letting out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Is that so?” you tease, tilting your head. “Then prove it.”

Bucky’s lips curve in a way that makes something tighten in your chest. Without another word, he takes your hand, still warm from before and leads you back toward the bar. The music grows louder again, pulsing around you like a heartbeat, and just as you start to feel the weight of his words settle in, Thor intercepts you.

“Alright, sweets” Thor grins, grabbing your hand before Bucky can react. “Time to dance.”

You throw a quick glance over your shoulder at Bucky, but Thor’s already twirling you into the crowd. Wanda and Natasha cheer, and soon you're moving with them, laughing and letting the music wash over you.

But it doesn’t last long.

Before you know it, a familiar grip wraps around your wrist, not gentle this time. Firm, almost painfully tight. Bucky. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls you away, but the intensity in his hold is enough to make your heart race for a different reason. He’s not asking. He’s taking.

You barely manage to throw Wanda a glance before you’re dragged through the crowd again, your feet struggling to keep up with his pace. The air between you thickens, and it finally hits you. You’re not just his girl now.

Bucky Barnes is possessive about his girl.

Your skin tingles under his touch, and for the first time tonight, a little voice in the back of your mind wonders just how deep that possessiveness runs.

You don’t notice the way Steve watches from the sidelines, a slow smirk tugging at his lips, as if he knows exactly what’s going on inside Bucky’s head. As if he’s seen it all before.

Bucky’s grip on your hand loosens as he finally stops, and when you look up at him, expecting to see the same intense expression from moments ago, you’re met with something entirely different.

A soft smile.

It’s disarming, almost as if the possessiveness he showed just seconds ago never happened. His blue eyes are calm now, gentle even, and it throws you off balance. You’re not sure how to react. Should you call him out? Ask what that was about? Or just... let it go?

Your heart is still racing from how easily he dragged you away, but before you can decide what to say, Steve steps closer, and Bucky turns his attention to him. Their conversation is low, their words blending into the pulsing music, and for a moment, you’re left standing there, trying to process everything.

Meanwhile, back at the dancefloor, Thor is anything but calm.

“I don’t like it,” he says, eyes narrowing as he watches you with Bucky from across the room. “I don’t trust his intentions.”

Natasha, ever the observant one, nods in agreement. “Did you see how he pulled her away? That wasn’t... normal.”

Wanda, though quieter, presses her lips together in concern. “Y/n didn’t seem to mind too much, though.”

Thor lets out a frustrated sigh. “That’s the problem. Guys like him? They have a way of making it feel like it’s okay... until it’s not.”

Natasha’s eyes darken slightly, and she exchanges a knowing glance with Wanda. “We need to step in before this goes any further.”

Wanda nods. “I have an idea.”

Before long, Natasha and Wanda are weaving through the crowd toward you. You’re still standing with Bucky and Steve when they reach you, their smiles bright but calculated.

“We’re just gonna steal her for a sec!” Natasha says smoothly, looping an arm around yours before Bucky can protest.

Bucky’s jaw twitches slightly, but he nods, letting them take you. “Don’t take too long.”

You let them pull you away toward the restrooms, barely registering the way Bucky’s gaze lingers on you as you disappear into the crowd.

Inside, Natasha closes the door behind you, and Wanda immediately turns to you, her eyes full of concern. “Alright, spill. Are you okay?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, he dragged you off the dancefloor!”

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Okay, yeah, that was... intense. But he’s…I don’t know, it’s weird. He’s intense but then... soft?” You groan, pacing a little. “And I’m not even drunk, so I can’t blame it on that, but part of me just... wants to be around him.”

Wanda’s eyes soften. “You sure it’s not just the mystery?”

You sigh, leaning against the counter. “Maybe? I don’t know. But I’m fine. Really.”

Natasha exchanges a look with Wanda, not entirely convinced. “Just... be careful, alright?”

Meanwhile, outside the restroom, Steve watches as Bucky takes another slow drag of his cigarette, his eyes fixed on the door you disappeared through.

Steve sighs. “Buck, you gotta calm down.”

Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. He exhales smoke slowly, his eyes still on the door. “She’s mine.”

Steve shakes his head, crossing his arms. “You barely know her.”

Bucky finally looks at him, and for a brief moment, there’s something dark in his expression. “I know enough.”

Steve watches Bucky carefully, noting the way his jaw tenses as he stares at the restroom door. The silence between them stretches until Steve finally breaks it.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Buck?” he asks, his voice low but firm. “What’s the plan here?”

Bucky flicks the ashes from his cigarette, his lips pressing into a thin line. “She’s mine.” he says simply, as if that alone explains everything.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on the restroom door, his expression unreadable. “I’m not gonna rush it. She’ll come to me.”

Steve lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “And if she doesn’t?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Bucky’s lips. “She will.” His voice is full of quiet certainty. “We wait. We watch.”

Before Steve can respond, the restroom door swings open, and you step out with Wanda and Natasha. You look more composed now, but your eyes instinctively search for Bucky. When you find him leaning against the wall, his gaze unreadable, something inside you twists unexpectedly.

Before you can take a step in his direction, Thor is suddenly at your side. “C’mon, sweets…” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leading you straight back to the dance floor. His grip is firm but not overbearing, a silent reminder that he’s keeping you close. Wanda and Natasha follow, shooting Bucky a subtle glance.

Bucky watches, his expression darkening as Thor keeps you firmly within the group, away from him. His fingers tighten around his cigarette before he flicks it to the ground and grinds it under his boot. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, but he makes no move to come closer. Instead, he leans back against the wall, arms crossed, his attention shifting to Steve.

“What’s the plan now?” Steve asks, watching Bucky carefully.

Bucky’s lips curl into a slow, almost dangerous smirk. “Wait and watch.”

Steve nods knowingly. “You’re playing the long game, huh?”

Bucky’s eyes follow you as you laugh at something Thor says, but there’s a flicker of something in your expression, something almost hesitant. “She’ll come to me,” Bucky murmurs, as if it’s inevitable. “She’ll start missing me soon enough.”

And maybe he’s right. Because as you dance with your friends, trying to enjoy yourself, you can’t help but steal glances in his direction. Every time you do, he’s already looking away, ignoring you as if you don’t exist.

And for some reason, that stings.

You know you shouldn’t feel this way. Thor and the others are just looking out for you, making sure you’re safe. But there’s something about Bucky’s sudden coldness that unsettles you. You can’t explain it, but a small part of you feels... bad.

Kindness.

It’s one of your biggest weaknesses. Your friends adore that about you, but they also know it makes you vulnerable. People can take advantage of it.

And as much as you try to shake it off, that little voice in your head wonders if Bucky is counting on that very thing.

You sway half-heartedly to the music, but your mind isn't on the beat or the flashing lights. Your eyes keep drifting to where Bucky and Steve are standing, and every time you see Bucky deliberately looking away, something inside you twists.

Natasha nudges you gently. “Sweets, stop.”

You blink, pulling your gaze away. “Stop what?”

“Being you!” Wanda chimes in with a teasing yet serious look. “You’re too kind. You always feel bad when you shouldn’t.”

Natasha nods in agreement, crossing her arms. “Kindness is great, but not when it keeps you up at night worrying about people who don’t deserve it.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t just switch it off, Nat.”

Natasha rolls her eyes but smiles knowingly. “Yeah, yeah, we know. Doesn’t mean we won’t try.”

They both mean well, and you know they’re right. But it’s easier said than done. Your kindness is part of who you are, for better or worse. And right now, it’s gnawing at you, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

Meanwhile, across the club, Steve watches you carefully before turning to Bucky. “She’s getting restless,” he says, sipping his drink. “You counting on that?”

Bucky smirks, tapping his fingers against the table. “Of course, I am.”

Steve exhales slowly, leaning in slightly. “Why her, Buck? There’s plenty of girls here tonight. Hell, there have been plenty of girls before her. What makes this one different?”

Bucky's smirk deepens, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “She’s not like them,” he says simply. “She’s got... a softness. But not weak. She’s got fight in her too.” He pauses, his gaze locking onto you from across the room for the briefest moment before he looks away again. “And she doesn’t even realize it.”

Steve shakes his head with a knowing chuckle. “You’re obsessed.”

Bucky’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by something more dangerous. “I don’t do half-measures, Steve.”

Steve leans back, watching Bucky with careful eyes. “Yeah... I know.”

Back on the dancefloor, Thor notices the way you keep sneaking glances in Bucky’s direction, the way your shoulders sag with indecision. With a heavy sigh, he leans down, his voice gentle but firm.

“Alright, doll,” he says, using the nickname Bucky had claimed as his own. “Go.”

You blink up at him in surprise. “What?”

Thor gives you a knowing look. “Go back to him. But stay where I can see you.”

A wave of relief washes over you, and you can’t help but smile. “Thanks, Thor.”

He ruffles your hair playfully. “Just don’t make me regret it, yeah?”

With a nod, you turn and make your way back toward Bucky and Steve, your heart pounding with anticipation. You don’t notice the way Bucky’s lips twitch as he watches you approach, like he knew this moment was inevitable.

Steve watches you approach with a knowing smile, nudging Bucky slightly with his elbow. “Told you…” he mutters, amusement dancing in his voice.

Bucky doesn’t respond. Instead, he leans against the bar, his expression unreadable as you finally reach him.

You stand there for a moment, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he doesn’t. He doesn't even look at you.

“Hey…” you say softly, but he doesn’t react.

You clear your throat and try again, a little louder this time. “Bucky?”

Still nothing.

Frustration bubbles up inside you, but you push it down, giving it one last shot. “Are you seriously going to ignore me all night?”

Silence.

Something sharp twists in your chest, and with a sigh, you take a step back. “Fine,” you say, your voice steady despite the sting of disappointment. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone, just like you want.”

Before you can turn away, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. The grip is firm but not rough but possessive, in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t like being ignored.” he says, his voice low and dark, his blue eyes locking onto yours.

Your breath catches in your throat. “I wasn’t ignoring you…” you murmur, suddenly feeling the heat of his touch.

His lips twitch into something that’s almost a smirk. “Apologize.”

You blink up at him, your heart racing. “I…what?”

“Apologize,” he repeats, his thumb brushing lightly against your wrist.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “Fine. Sorry, Bucky.”

Satisfied, he tugs you closer and starts leading you toward the dancefloor. You don’t resist, letting him pull you into the crowd. The music pulses around you, and before you can fully register what’s happening, his hands find your waist, drawing you flush against him.

There’s no space. None. His body is pressed firmly against yours, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest. The heat between you both is undeniable, and your mind is racing, screaming at you to think straight, but it’s impossible with him this close.

“Relax…” Bucky murmurs near your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You try, but it’s impossible. His hands grip your hips, guiding you in sync with his movements, slow and deliberate. Your skin tingles under his touch, and every time your body brushes against his, your pulse spikes.

After a few moments, he leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear. “I wanna do something for you.”

You swallow hard, shaking your head slightly. “Bucky, there’s no need for that.”

He grins, and the playful banter begins. “I didn’t ask if there was a need.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Let me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

And then, without warning, he silences you the only way he knows how.

His lips crash against yours, stealing your breath and every coherent thought in your head. The kiss is firm, confident, and leaves no room for argument. Your hands instinctively find his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

When he finally pulls away, his blue eyes flicker with mischief, and he winks at you. “Told you I’d do something for you.”

You’re left standing there, breathless and stunned, as the music pulses around you, but all you can focus on is him…just him.

Bucky leads you through the crowd, weaving past dancing bodies and flashing lights until you reach a secluded corner of the club. The music is quieter here, the atmosphere darker, more intimate. You stand close, the space between you charged with something you can't quite name.

For a while, neither of you say anything. You shift awkwardly under his intense gaze, biting your lip as you wait for him to speak first. Eventually, he does.

“I like you.”

The words are so simple, so unexpected, that they make you laugh. “Really?” you tease, arching an eyebrow. “Just like that?”

Instead of answering, Bucky takes a step back and, to your horror, cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “I like her!”

Heads turn, eyes land on you both, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks as you frantically reach for him. “Bucky! Shut up!” You hiss, tugging at his arm.

He grins, utterly unapologetic, and takes it a step further. “I REALLY LIKE HER!!!!”

You slap a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in mortification. “Okay! Okay, I believe you! Just be quiet, you goof.”

Bucky chuckles against your palm, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Slowly, you lower your hand, and before you can say another word, he kisses you again.

This time, it's slower, deeper, less about teasing and more about something real. Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, your palm resting over his heart. You can feel the steady, strong rhythm beneath your touch, and it does something to you. A soft sigh escapes you, and Bucky’s lips curve into a smile against yours.

When he finally pulls back, he presses his forehead against yours. “Come with me…” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against your waist.

Your heart skips a beat, but reality crashes in just as quickly. “I can’t…” you whisper, shaking your head. “I came here with my friends. Thor won’t let me just disappear.”

Bucky’s jaw tightens, and for a split second, there’s something dangerous flickering behind his eyes. “I don’t take no for an answer, doll.”

Before you can protest, his lips are on yours again, stealing your breath, your words, your logic. You feel his arm tighten around your waist, holding you close, keeping you in his orbit.

What you don’t see is the way he locks eyes with Steve over your shoulder. There’s a silent exchange, a plan forming without words. Steve nods subtly, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he knows exactly what Bucky is thinking.

You’re too lost in the kiss to notice.

You try to pull away, your hands pressing lightly against Bucky’s chest, but he doesn’t let you go. Instead, he tilts his head, a playful yet dangerous glint in his blue eyes. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” he says, his voice low and laced with something that makes your stomach twist.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What? No, of course not!”

Bucky hums, unconvinced, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your waist. “Then why won’t you come with me? You think I can’t take care of you?”

The guilt hits you like a truck, and you immediately shake your head, your voice softer now. “Bucky, that’s not it at all. It’s just… my friends. Thor won’t let me go that easily, and I don’t want to worry them.”

Bucky stares at you for a beat, then his lips curl into a smile, his hands sliding up to cup your face. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, and makes a face, his eyes wide, mouth open like he’s about to devour you whole.

You burst into laughter, swatting at his chest. “Stop that, you’re ridiculous!”

He grins, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “But you love it,” he teases.

Your laughter fades into a soft smile, and for a moment, you forget everything else. But what you don’t see is the way Bucky’s eyes flick over your shoulder, locking onto Steve.

Behind your back, Steve nods, the plan silently set into motion.

And just like that, you’re already one step closer to exactly where Bucky wants you.

Just as you’re starting to relax in Bucky’s hold, a familiar voice cuts through the moment.

“There you are!” Wanda’s voice is laced with amusement and just a hint of suspicion. She strides over, her eyes flickering between you and Bucky with a knowing smirk. “Come on, we’re not letting you disappear just yet.”

You sigh, reluctantly stepping back, but Bucky doesn’t let you go so easily. His hand stays wrapped around your wrist, and he tilts his head at you with a playful pout. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

You blink in confusion. “What?”

He leans in, voice dripping with faux hurt. “That’s why you’re not coming with me. You think I’m some idiot who can’t handle Thor.”

Wanda laughs, crossing her arms. “It’s not about you, Barnes. Thor’s just… let’s say, protective about his friends.” She glances at you. “Right, dear?”

You nod quickly, grateful for Wanda’s backup. “Exactly. I don’t want to cause drama.”

Bucky smirks, but there’s something sharp beneath it, something calculating. “Drama? Doll, I’m all about drama.”

You roll your eyes, about to respond when Wanda grabs your hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

Just as you turn to leave, something shifts in the air. Steve, who had been lingering nearby, subtly moves into position, blocking Thor and Natasha’s view of you both. The timing is perfect.

Bucky doesn’t let go of your wrist. Instead, he pulls you back suddenly, spinning you right into him. “Not so fast…” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

Your heart stutters in your chest, but before you can process what’s happening, Steve casually bumps into Wanda with a distracted, “Sorry, miss.” causing her to stumble and momentarily break her grip on your hand.

In that split second of distraction, Bucky tugs you further into the crowd, his grip firm but playful, as if daring you to resist.

“Bucky…” you start, but his grin is all you get in response.

Steve watches from a distance, arms crossed and an amused look on his face. The plan was working.

And deep down, despite the warnings ringing in your head, you don’t really want to stop him.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” you whisper, breathless as he pulls you deeper into the crowd. The flashing lights dance across his face, highlighting the mischief in his blue eyes.

Instead of answering, he leans in and kisses you. Soft at first, teasing, before deepening it with a possessive edge that makes your knees weak. Your hands instinctively grip his shoulders to steady yourself, but your mind is screaming at you to get back to Wanda and Thor.

When he finally pulls away, his lips brush against yours as he murmurs, “Still wanna leave?”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to regain control. “I have to go…” you insist, your voice lacking the conviction you wish it had. “Wanda and Thor are looking for me.”

Bucky’s grip tightens just slightly, his fingers tracing over your wrist. “Stay.” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You shake your head, trying to find your footing in this whirlwind. “Bucky, I can’t just…”

He tilts his head, watching you closely, and then with that signature smirk, he says, “Just for a little while. We’ll stay in the club, I promise.”

Your resolve wavers, the intensity in his gaze making it impossible to think straight. After a moment, you sigh in defeat. “Fine. Only in the club.”

Bucky’s lips twitch in victory. “Good girl.”

But what you don’t realize is that Bucky’s promise means nothing, not when he’s already made up his mind. While you’re distracted, his eyes flick over your shoulder to where Steve stands near the bar. A single nod passes between them, silent and calculated.

You may think you’re staying, but Bucky has other plans.

Just as you begin to relax in Bucky’s presence, the music pounding in your chest like a second heartbeat, a familiar voice cuts through the haze.

“There you are,” Thor’s deep voice rumbles from behind you. His expression is firm but not unkind as he reaches for your arm. “It’s time to go home, Sweets.”

You glance up at Bucky, feeling the tension in the air shift. For a second, you consider arguing, just a little, but something about the way Thor is looking at you makes you nod instead. “Alright, you say softly.

Bucky’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t stop you. Not yet.

Just as you turn to follow Thor, Bucky appears at your side, holding out two glasses. “One for the road?” he offers, his voice smooth, his smile disarming. He hands one glass to Thor and one to you.

Thor eyes Bucky suspiciously before taking a sip. You hesitate for a moment, but under Bucky’s expectant gaze, you take a small sip too.

Before you know it, Bucky has his hand on your lower back, steering you gently away from the dancefloor. “C’mon, just for a second,” he says, his voice low and persuasive. “One last moment before you run off.”

You follow him, oblivious to the subtle exchange of glances between him and Steve.

The club lights flash around you, and you’re too caught up in the conversation to notice Thor’s steps faltering behind you. Steve quietly steps in, keeping Thor distracted just long enough for Bucky to guide you further away.

It isn’t until you reach the quieter edge of the club, near the exit, that you realize something is off.

“Bucky,” you say, blinking as you look around. “Where are we going?”

Bucky smirks, his hand firm around yours. “Told you, doll. I don’t take no for an answer.”

Panic rises in your chest, and you yank your hand away, taking a step back. “I have to go back to my friends.”

Bucky doesn’t let you get far. He grabs your wrist again, his grip just tight enough to make your heart race for an entirely different reason. “Apologize,” he says, his voice lower now, laced with something darker. “For trying to leave me.”

Your pulse hammers in your ears, and suddenly, the warmth in his eyes seems a little more dangerous. “Bucky…” you whisper, trying to pull free, but he refuses to let go.

Behind you, Steve stands with his arms crossed, his smirk never fading. He knows exactly how this will play out.

Your heart pounds as you take a step back from Bucky, trying to create some distance, but you don't get far. Your back collides with something solid, someone solid.

Steve.

His arms snake around your waist, holding you firmly against him. You freeze as he rests his chin lightly on top of your head, his breath fanning over your hair. The casual intimacy of the gesture makes your stomach twist, and you can feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him.

Bucky watches the scene unfold with a lazy smile, his eyes dark with amusement. “Relax, doll,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “I already told you, you’re my girl now.”

You shake your head, your voice shaky but firm. “Bucky, you promised. You said we’d stay in the club.”

Bucky’s grin widens, his fingers reaching out to brush against your cheek. “Yeah, well... there’s been a slight change in the promise.”

You stiffen, your mind racing. Steve's arms tighten subtly, his hold secure but not forceful. Yet.

It’s clear he’s enjoying this, the way his body presses against yours, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You’re way too tense,” he says with a chuckle. “Loosen up, doll.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Thor will come looking for me...”

Bucky’s expression softens into something almost pitying. “Thor?” He tilts his head. “Sweetheart, he won’t be coming for you.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

Steve chuckles from behind you, his grip tightening just slightly as if to keep you in place. “Let’s just say... he’s taking a nap.”

Your stomach drops. “What did you do?”

Bucky waves a dismissive hand. “Nothing too bad, doll. He’s fine. Just a little... distracted.” His smirk deepens. “That means it’s just us now.”

Your pulse races as realization sinks in. They had planned this from the beginning.

Steve finally releases you, only to grab your hand with a firm grip, and Bucky takes your other hand, his thumb stroking over your skin in a way that feels both soothing and possessive. Together, they lead you toward the exit.

You glance back over your shoulder, searching for a way out, for Wanda, Natasha, anyone, but the crowd of strangers swallows the dancefloor whole, and just like that, you’re outside.

Under the cool night air, Bucky leans in, his lips grazing your ear. “Told you, doll. No one’s taking you from me. You are my girl now!”

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

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@pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss @kpopgirlbtssvt

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biteofcherry · 1 month ago

Text

Touch the Darkness

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; possessiveness; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; jealous Reader (though she claims otherwise); non-lethal poisoning; sex; turned on by violence;

word count: 6.8k

Author’s Note: I know you've waited a bit for this next chapter. I didn't exactly have trouble writing it, my muse was simply interested in other projects. But I'm always a hoe for dark Steve, so returning to him was inevitable. As it was inevitable for Steve's dick darkness to start corrupting Reader in small doses. Or, maybe, he gives her boldness to act out on instincts she would otherwise suppress, because they're not proper 😏 For a brighter side - Princess gains a genuine new friend! 🥰

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 8. Tempestuous as the sea

~ * ~

You could blame the slow process of writing on the tiredness, but it was honestly the fault of delicious macaroons you’ve been reaching for every single sentence. At least with the sweet bite the mundane typing of a bland report felt a little more exciting. Once you ate the final macaroon, only the boring part would remain.

Of all the excitement and challenges that came with running a health center, the bureaucratic side of it was truly exhausting.

A knock on the door of your home office startled you mid bite.

Before you swallowed and managed to invite him in, Steve was already pushing the door open and strolling inside.

You glared at him, but didn’t comment on the intrusion. Knowing your husband, he’d say that he came in your pussy just this morning and you had no objections to it, so why fuss over a damn office.

Pointing out that you didn’t exactly invite him into your pussy either, was a futile argument. Especially since you didn’t stop him, or even elbow him in those perfect, stupid abs of marble.

Quite the contrary. You rocked back against him and begged, until he rolled you fully onto your front and savaged you.

You were still disgusted with yourself for that. As well for the sex two nights before. And the one in the shower. Or the Sunday humiliation, when it became clear that the chef was in the kitchen preparing your fancy dinner while you were screaming the house down as Steve wrung three orgasms out of you, one after the other.

So disgusted. And still giving in to the temptation that was the devil himself.

Who walked around your desk and leaned against it, looking down at you curled in the chair and with your cheeks stuffed with sweets.

A strange feeling knotted your stomach.

You were barefoot, wearing a pair of leggins and a hoodie. Crumbs of gooey sweetness were sticking to the corners of your mouth. Steve was barefoot, too; which meant he came home for the rest of the day, with no plans of leaving. He had a plain, tight T-shirt paired with dark jeans, his leather jacket already taken off. He stared at your face, only briefly glancing at the almost empty plate of macaroons.

This scene was so… domestic.

Instead of unwrapping that terrifying thought, you diverted your attention to the royal red envelope in Steve’s hand. A beautiful calligraphy shimmered in gold.

“What’s that?” You asked, swallowing the rest of your macaroon.

Unexpectedly, Steve leaned forward. Tip of his tongue licked at the corner of your mouth, swiping the sticky sweetness. Then it plugged between your lips that opened on a soft gasp.

The kiss was short, but intense and depraved. As it always was with Steve. And your treacherous body chased it as he pulled back.

“Lemon would pair better.” He hummed, resuming his previous stance.

“What?” You blinked, confused. Your head was still swimming in dizzy fog from that unexpected kiss. As well from the fact nothing more followed.

You were married, but there was nothing marital about your relationship with Steve. There were no sweet kisses good morning or goodbye, or hugs and cuddles. If either of you initiated physical contact it was to fuck.

But now no touching, or undressing followed. The unexpected kiss remained just that - a shard of affection a normal newlywed couple might show each other.

It messed with your mind. And pulled at a cord in your chest.

“With your taste.” Steve explained; corners of his mouth curling in a hungry smirk.

Which, really, should be followed by his mouth descending on other parts of you.

Instead, your body filled with heat both from the kiss and his words while Steve returned to tapping the envelope against his thigh, unbothered.

Swallowing, you pushed that spark of need down. Steve was already too aware of how eagerly your body responded to him. Especially, since you stopped fighting it too much when the desire sparked low in your core. You weren’t going to further your humiliation.

“So what’s with that?” You asked, pointing at the red envelope.

“An invitation.” Steve showed you the beautifully addressed front. “For Mr and Mrs Rogers.”

You ignored his pleased smirk when he said the last part. It still evoked annoyance. The realization other people were now calling you by his last name fueled that irritation.

“To Stark’s annual post expo gala.” He said it with a roll of his eyes.

Clearly, he wasn’t thrilled. You doubted it was because he had no regard for technology and knowledge. As much as you hated to admit it, Steve Rogers was exceptionally smart and up to date with many areas of expertise.

From what you learned about your husband over the weeks, he wasn’t a fan of boring, social chit-chat and fake politeness. Which is why he preferred his direct, brutal methods of communication. But even he couldn’t fully escape socializing with the people he had on payroll and leash.

“I assume it’s expected of me to go with you,” you glared at him, even though a small spark of excitement flickered in your chest.

You’ve been to a few fancy parties and fundraisers, but to attend something of this caliber was a thrilling novelty.

For one, you’d get to dress up. You liked it, once in a while, to feel like a modern sort of Cinderella, who gets to swirl around in a pretty dress and eat expensive snacks. Secondly, it was a tempting opportunity for you as a director of the health center to lure in new benefactors. The project you’ve been working on was one that would need a solid dose of funding.

There was also the aspect of meeting people in similar fields. Stark’s expo focused on technology mostly, but that area leaked into medical fields, as well. There were a lot of neuroscience breakthroughs in the past years, which served psychiatric and psychological fields. It could prove beneficial, if you spoke to some experts.

“Princess,” Steve tilted his head, “fuck the expectations.”

You almost sagged in disappointment.

“But-” he continued- “I have a few things to settle with some people and they will be there. It saves me a lot of time to do it there. And since I’m going, you are going, too.”

He dropped the envelope onto the desk then cupped your chin with his hand. You hated how you didn’t hate the jolt of pleasure his touch evoked.

“First official outing as newlyweds, Princess. Gotta make an impression.” There was near cruel mirth in his blue eyes.

“Pffft!” You snorted, attempting to pull away from his grip. You still haven’t fully accepted that once Steve had his hand on you, he was unlikely to relent.

Well, your mind didn’t accept it. Your body has become a whore for it.

“I doubt I’ll be making any sort of impression on the corrupted men who kneel for you,” unless they were disgusting pigs interested in ogling Steve’s sidepiece. “Though I guess I could use you, for a change. Your name could be impressive enough for some schmucks to donate to the center.”

“Tell them you’re mine and they’ll fund you three centers.” Steve said it so casually, without any hint of cockiness. In his eyes, it was a simple truth.

“I’m not yours,” you hissed, more annoyed at the heat you felt creeping over your skin.

At that Steve smirked.

He released your chin and stood up. He didn’t even counter your claim, as if it was the most pitiful lie that didn’t require any argument because neither of you believed it.

He stole one macaroon before leaving your office.

You quickly stuffed your mouth with the only macaroon left, in case he would take that away from you, too. Then you returned your gaze to the project document. Suddenly, with the prospect of potential donors, you felt a new wave of energy and motivation to write it all out.

You clung to the claim that it was the same motivation filling you with excited lightness as you donned on a beautiful evening dress three weeks later. Adamant on enjoying the fancy party and working for the center’s goals, you pushed away the nagging thoughts of going there as Steve’s wife.

Not that you thought anyone would be interested in that, anyway. You weren’t a famous socialite, or a model, and you considered Steve to be terrifying enough that no one would imagine him getting married. Much less gossiping about it.

The smaller argument you weaved - about you not even matching your outfits, ergo no one would recognize you as a couple - died the moment you descended the stairs to where Steve was already waiting for you.

The only time he wore a suit was at your wedding. His usual style was rougher, more practical and intimidating. A jagged chunk of volcanic rock, still pulsing with burning lava. So it was quite shocking to see him in a dark blue two piece that was cut so perfectly that his broad shoulders and tapered waist seemed more prominently outlined than when he wore jeans and tight shirts.

The shade of his suit was dark enough to hold that dangerous, intimidating aura, but the shiny blue hue matched your choice of dress perfectly.

He was the night sky to your moon glow.

Steve didn’t mask the hunger in his eyes as he looked at you. Though you were thankful he didn’t utter anything about not making it to the gala, because he wanted to sate that hunger.

He did, however, order you to turn around; with that rough, low voice that had your clit tingling. Despite the vow you made to yourself two months ago, to not so easily comply with his commands, you did as asked. You found yourself staring at your reflection in the large mirror in the entryway, your body heating up from the sudden lewd imagery of what could happen if Steve put his hands on you. Would he make you watch as he…

His ice blue eyes sparked a dark satisfaction, undoubtedly reading your body well enough to suspect where your thoughts have wandered.

But he didn’t mock you. Instead, his touch was a gentle brush that evoked goosebumps as he placed something shiny and heavy on your chest.

He clasped the white gold necklace at the back of your neck as you stared at the incredible rock nestled in a cushion of diamonds that were so crystal white they appeared to be frosty snow.

The rock in the middle was a hue of sundown orange, mostly transparent, but with a flame encapsulated within. Like the heart of a star.

“Once upon a time,” Steve’s fingers trailed over your exposed collarbones and down along the delicate chain of the necklace. “There were six rarest jewels in the world. Called the infinity stones.”

Memory of Batroc asking about them flashed in your mind and you held your breath.

The rumors were true, then. Steve was the ghost from the legend, who tore through the Greek magnate’s citadel and stole the rarest gems, without leaving a trace. If this was one of them, were the rest nestled in the rings on his fingers like you presumed once before?

“This one is called the soul stone.” Steve traced the outline of the pendant with his fingertip, dipping it into the valley between your breasts. Your nipples hardened instantly.

“Fitting, since you’re the devil who stole mine,” your retort had no bite. Not with how breathless you sounded.

Steve chuckled, slipping his hand over your breast and lower. His fingers splayed across your belly as he pressed closer against you. His breath was a warm tickle on your skin as he brushed his lips along the column of your throat.

“I stole more than that, haven’t I, Princess?” He smirked at the flash of fear in your eyes, which dissolved into stubborn defiance.

“Yes. My peace and chance at happiness.” You glared at him in the mirror. Which didn’t dent his amusement.

With a chuckle, Steve kissed your neck then scraped his teeth over the spot. Thankfully, not hard enough to leave any evidence, but making your pussy clench.

You scurried away towards the exit, before he decided to humiliate you by leaving a hickey that anyone could see.

You tried not to show how Steve’s touch on your lower back affected you, neither on your way to the car, nor when you entered the lavish gala at the Stark Tower. You doused the warmth of comfort with a flute of champagne when Steve spent the first solid hour keeping you at his side and introducing you to various people. As his wife.

It was only after you two returned to the main hostess and Tony’s wife, Pepper, who greeted you at the entrance and then smoothly roped you into a social conversation, that Steve murmured something about attending to business.

He left you with a brief kiss to your cheek and a brush of his fingers sliding from the small of your back over your ass. Unapologetic about doing it publicly.

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at his retreating form.

“Ah, newlyweds.” Next to you, Pepper let a dramatically dreamy sigh.

Your gaze shifted to her, only to notice she was most amused. Unlike some of the women whom you were introduced to, she didn’t look at you with envy or disdain. Which had annoyed you, because really there was nothing to be jealous of. Well, mindblowing sex perhaps. But that was it. Nothing more.

If they wanted Steve so much, you’d happily give him away. If he only let you.

Pepper seemed genuine in her friendly approach, witty responses and warmth. The only flaw you found in her so far was the fact she was friendly with Steve, too.

Not overtly, in a way betraying carnal interest, or former relationship (which you sensed from a few other women at the banquet). But the platonic friendliness toward someone like Steve was alarming in itself.

“Oh yeah,” you snorted, lifting your glass of champagne to your lips, “I’m sooo head over heels for him.”

Pepper’s laugh was soft and tinkling like velvet bells. Nothing fake, or annoying in the sound of it. Quite the opposite, you were surprised how it put you at ease after mingling with people who wore fake politeness like a family crest.

Crinkles appeared in the corners of her eyes as she looked at you and you couldn’t help but respond with your own grin.

“People often mistake my sunny disposition for naivety. They're very wrong.” Pepper said, taking a sip of her strawberry gin & tonic.

“I know you didn't marry Steve out of love.” She stated bluntly, without judgment or conspiratory whispering. “But watching you two, some things are unmistakable.”

She lifted her left shoulder in a shrug, sparkling amusement in her eyes turning into a knowing look. Your heart halted before setting in a slightly panicked flutter.

There were little moments when you felt certain cracks in your hard hateful shell, but you hoped that you managed to quickly hide them behind walls and under a mask. You didn’t want Steve finding more of your weaknesses. It was even worse, if someone else saw them.

Pepper barely met you and if she noticed how comfortable you felt at times beside Steve (when you forgot to remember you’re supposed to hate him and be disgusted by his touch), then the bastard must have been aware of them, too. Crap.

Still, you arched your brow as if you had no idea what she was implying. Pepper’s amusement deepened, she wasn’t buying your cluelessness.

“There may not be romantic affection, but he sure gives you attention.” She said, angling her body so you stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the grand ballroom.

Before you snorted that you’d rather never have drawn Steve’s attention, she vaguely pointed at the room full of people. Expensive suits and dresses worth more than your half year salary, diamonds dripping, chests puffed. Women polished to perfection glued to the side of their men, sweet smiles offered on painted lips.

“That's something only very few women here experience. It’s rare.” There was a hint of disappointment in her tone, but you doubted it had to do with her own relationship.

Tony Stark was like a hummingbird on energizer and coke - he fleeted from one conversation to the other, growing bored, acting pretentious asshole. He stopped for longer only with a few people. But every half an hour or so, he would search for Pepper and the way his attention zeroed in on her left no room to doubt his love for her.

She grounded him. Gave him a moment to recharge, even as she called him out on some of his antics.

Many of the women at the gala, who accompanied their husbands, or partners, were there as an accessory. Beautiful, adding to the status, but few were even acknowledged by their company.

“I’m not sure having Steve Rogers’ attention is exactly a good thing.” You pointed out.

Everyone here may officially pretend he was a ruthless businessman, while they all knew the bloody truth. He was a mafia boss, a brutal king of the underworld, who wouldn’t blink an eye flaying someone open here in the light of the crystal chandeliers.

No one wanted his attention on them, not really.

“Not for most.” Pepper agreed. “Though some of the women might disagree.”

“Are you talking from experience?” You maintained a neutral, indifferent tone (mostly because you didn’t think there was ever anything between Pepper and Steve); yet there was a tiny flicker of something angry that ignited at the prospect.

It stirred with a growl and clawed out a few times that night, when a few of the women made it obvious they were wet and willing for Steve.

“God, no!” Pepper snorted, pretending to shudder. “I’m not that adventurous.”

“Yeah, bungee jumping without rope might be less of an adrenaline rush than being with him,” you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth tilted in a grin.

“Well, it seems only fair to give back in return. What would perturb the dark overlord?” Pepper pretended to seriously ponder, tapping her finger against her lips.

“I could try setting Bucky on fire.”

Pepper’s laugh resounded with the same melodic chime as previously, but much louder. Not a single fake note, her burst of laughter was real. It enticed your own laugh to bubble out; both of you falling into a fit of giggles behind your drink glasses.

You drew the attention of many people, who either watched you with suspicion, or glared offended. You didn’t care. And when your gaze connected with Steve’s, who looked your way from the other side of the room while some men were babbling next to him, you didn’t even pretend to be gloomy.

“Now that was the height of entertainment tonight.” Pepper looped her arm around yours, still smiling brilliantly ear to ear. “For me, at least. Now, how to repay you for that? I can tell you all the spicy gossip. We could get drunk and no one would dare to say anything to either me or you.”

“Not gossip, but information.” You finished your champagne and reached for another flute as a waiter passed by. “I need to know more about this swamp my so-called husband treads through. And I need to milk some of them for money for the center.”

“I know just the right people for that,” she nodded with determination and steered you toward the first potential benefactor.

Pepper’s company was a wonderful balm and entertainment rolled into one. She was a graceful hostess, smart and perceptive professional, but also a bubbly imp who didn’t spare you the details about some sordid affairs.

Though she could excuse herself with her duties, she stuck with you the entire time. She also managed not to smirk at your glower when she pointed at three women who have in the past fucked Steve.

However, her smile turned mischievous as she spotted someone over your shoulder. She reminded you of the lunch date in three days that you happily agreed to, then smoothly glided away before you managed to properly say goodbye.

Words stuck in your throat as you felt the familiar solid warmth at your back. Steve’s shadow cast over you first, then his heat and scent engulfed you. Like a mythological fate, always reaching its grasp for the heroine, no matter the hard fight towards the light, your personal devil softly pulled you back into his clutches.

His hand touched your back and he spun you around.

“Having fun, Princess?” He looked down at you.

Icy blade of his gaze cut down men bigger than life, but, despite the first instinctive flash of fear, you felt it slicing through the layers of your clothes and defences.

Plate by plate, you quickly reinforced your shell, to at least endure a few hours more before Steve got under your skin again.

And into your cunt, because with his hot looks and your four glasses of champagne that was inevitable.

“I don’t think parties of this kind are meant to have fun.” You scrunched up your nose. “But I managed to sway some rich snobs to potentially fund that educational project for the center. Leon Stavros seems keen to donate half the sum.”

You announced with a proud tilt of your chin and a smile. Tame enough to not share the actual happiness you felt with Steve. You wanted to boast about your little success, but you had to remember that he was the bane of your existence.

Steve’s hand on your back settled heavier, while his other slid along your arm. He took your hand in his, outstretched your joined arms and in a single move swept you onto the dancefloor.

“You’ll have to use his money for a different project.” He continued your conversation as he led you across the floor. “The psychoeducation and resources for caretakers project is already fully funded.”

It took you a moment for his words to register, because you were still scrambling to catch up with the fact that a heartbeat ago you were standing off to the side and now you were dancing across the ballroom.

It was truly mind boggling that your psychopath husband was a damn good dancer.

“What? Who?” You blinked, when it finally dawned on you what he said. You even cast a glance around, wondering who managed to deliver the funds so quickly.

Something sharp pierced through your chest as you realized there was only one person who knew before everyone else and could fund a project with a single transfer. Your gaze flicked back to Steve’s handsome face.

“Steve…”

Heaviness of the situation turned worse by the second, because he wasn’t showing that smug, triumphant look, which would at least remind you to hate him.

“You were determined to get that project running.” Steve replied easily. There was no affectionate passion in his next words, but still they chipped at the walls protecting you - “What you want, you get.”

“Thank you.” At the moment you didn’t know how else to respond. How to treat this gift.

You could think of it as his manipulation to get you further into his sticky web, but he already had you at his mercy on all accounts. No, it flashed too much thoughtfulness.

To preserve the comfortable setting of animosity, you asked cheekily - “What if I want a divorce?”

You were determined to keep asking for a divorce every chance you got. Officially, you believed it was because you wanted out of this fucked up marriage. Secretly, you were thrilled with the various ways Steve responded to that demand.

“Then-” he pulled you even closer, his cheek brushing yours as he leaned down to whisper into your ear- “you get a fucking so hard, any silly ideas drip out of you permanently.”

Steve delivered on the hard fucking, even though you haven’t mentioned divorce again that night.

You blamed the champagne and happiness at having your project funded for making you sit so close to him in the car on your way back from the gala, rubbing your heated body against him with unrestrained need. Steve was merciful enough to not wait it out until you lost the battle with your own will and initiated sex yourself, but instead dragged you over his lap, rolled up your dress and fingered you into a dripping, screaming puddle before you made it home.

Then he took you hard, in front of that fucking mirror in the hall. With you completely naked, wearing only the necklace and watching yourself give in to the monster completely.

You nearly passed out when he fucked you again in bed. Your almost unconscious state didn’t stop Steve from using you thoroughly and then spilling thick ropes of white cum all over your body, white drops landing around the jewel sparkling on your chest.

Though your body was wonderfully blissed out each time you and Steve had sex - which was becoming an almost daily thing - you still refused to use the blissful adjective to describe your marriage. Or any positive adjective, for that matter. Even as the comfort of sitting next to him or sharing meals increased; or how he casually draped your legs over his lap, massaging your calves while he typed murderous decrees on his phone.

The word domestic echoed in your head often, but you drowned it in screams of his victims, gunshots, Steve’s cold and sinister commands.

You shouldn’t feel at ease and comfortable around the devil who kept you chained to him. You gave yourself a pass for enjoying mindmelting orgasms, it was a small reward for your suffering, but you wouldn’t let yourself get accustomed to being a wife. Not to Steve.

So you pretended to be only mildly annoyed when he strolled into your office one day, bringing lunch as if he was a normal loving spouse, and announcing that you’ll be hosting a dinner at home. For the mayor and his wife. To his credit, Steve didn’t imply you had to be the one preparing said dinner. Having a chef was another benefit of your doom. But the expectation of playing the sweet wife and hostess to the corrupted pair of a politician and socialite made your blood boil.

Or maybe it was the fact that mayor’s wife was one of the few women Pepper confirmed to have been fucking Steve in the past.

No, you told yourself as you put on the soul stone necklace when preparing for said dinner. You didn’t care who he sank his cock into. You didn’t care, if he returned to that and left you in peace.

But your conviction shattered to sharp, jagged pieces when mayor’s wife made obvious moves at your husband, with her own fucking husband sitting right there at the table!

You were appalled. By her rudeness, of course.

Mayor played a clueless idiot, probably too scared of Steve to fight for honor. Or maybe he was actually gaining something from having his wife almost drop to her knees and swallow Steve’s cock whole. You played indifference, because why should you care?

So maybe your knife and fork scraped against the plate so loud that everyone at the table cringed in pain, when the mayor’s wife briefly touched Steve’s arm and mentioned missing their passionate art discussions. It was nothing. Just a spasm in your hand. And you gulping down half of your wine glass all unladylike was because you needed to soothe an itch in your throat, not because the floozy licked her lips and made a suggestion Steve should go with her to the new exhibition.

Though Steve hadn’t replied to Miliana’s advances, focusing on the not so subtle business talk with her husband, he didn’t refuse her either. Which made you want to reach for the knife he had custom made for you and stab him with it, when later that night he had the audacity to touch you.

Steve merely chuckled, absolutely amused. Mockingly asked if you were jealous. Which you were not!

Tension slowly dropped after that, as days passed and you haven’t seen that skank’s face. Unexpectedly, however, the mayor requested an official visit to the center. It was a short one, a half an hour so the press could write about his interest in healthcare and supporting new community focused projects. You also suspected he wanted to kiss Steve’s ass.

You didn’t have a reason to deny him, especially since the press would also mention the center and new projects, which would be helpful. It was even better, because he came only with some of his office staff, no wife at his side.

But then, just as you were breathing in relief that the circus was almost over, the mayor had the balls to invite himself over to your house for dinner the upcoming weekend.

In true political bullshit manipulation, saying how his wife loved your chef’s scallops and couldn’t wait to taste them again and how your house provided comfort to talk business with your husband.

At this point, you were wondering if the slimy asshole was a cuckold.

He was bending backwards just to give his own wife an opportunity to touch your fucking husband. Maybe he really was into that. Maybe he wanted to watch. Maybe you should’ve vomited when you relayed the request to Steve and he shrugged that he’s free Saturday evening: if the greedy idiot wants to crawl begging for more scraps.

Your appetite evaporated, as you spent days fuming at the prospect of another weird dinner when a shameless woman would be drooling after Steve while you were sitting there right opposite of her, in your own damn home.

No, this time you wouldn’t stand for it. You would make Miliana associate your house with something most unpleasant. And a small vial stolen from one of the medicine cabinets at the center was going to help you with that.

It was surprisingly easy, really. It should shock you how calm you were as you prepared for the dinner; how a soft smile graced your lips as you set the table while the chef prepared delicious food. But now that determination guided your hand through the plan, earlier fiery aggravation melted away.

Briefly, you wondered if the same calm took over Steve when he took lives.

You shook that thought away, since you weren’t attempting to kill anyone. Though when a memory of her hand on Steve’s arm flashed in your mind, your fingers itched to grab a knife.

Applying a little drop to the bottom of a crystal glass and another on the rim, smearing it along, you felt an odd kind of satisfaction unfurl in your chest. There was no hesitation, no worry about potential mix-up. No, you were certain Miliana would once again seat on Steve’s left. Just like the last time. It was cunning, since it appeared all innocent - her sitting on her husband’s right, just you were sitting on your husband’s right, the men facing each other.

Your smile widened when the couple entered your dining room and sat exactly like you predicted. Politely fake conversation flew as the chef brought out first dish and his assistant poured wine into glasses.

The scallops tasted even more delicious, in your opinion. Especially when after a few sips of wine the mayor’s wife had to quickly excuse herself to the bathroom.

Few minutes later the mayor’s phone vibrated, which led to him frowning at the screen and excusing himself as well - undoubtedly to aid his wife. When he walked back into the dining room a while later, he looked nervous and embarrassed, paler too.

“My apologies. It appears my wife and I have to leave promptly, it was unplanned, but can’t be avoided.”

You made a sound of worried pity, but continued to cut into your own food and eating it without an ounce of genuine distraught. Steve arched a brow in surprise, but nodded his head, which seemed to bring the mayor immense relief. The man was more scared of offending Steve than for his wife’s health.

It was less than a minute when you heard their car take off from the driveway. The sound of it and the fact they were no longer polluting the space of your home pleased you greatly.

“Mhm, these scallops are really delicious,” you hummed, licking your fork.

“Princess,” Steve tuned the petname in a sing-song tone. “What did you do?”

Slowly, you looked his way. He didn’t seem angry, nor worried. He angled his body towards you, propping one elbow on the table and drumming his fingers in a steady rhythm. He wasn’t asking if it was your doing, he already knew.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t permanently damage one of your mistresses. She’s just gonna spend a day or two glued to the toilet.” You snorted, clenching your fingers around the fork. “But maybe next time she’ll reconsider coming into the house where your wife lives.”

Dark gleam flickered over Steve’s ice blue eyes.

He leaned forward, moving his hands to grip the edge of your chair and yanked it at an angle toward him. Your legs were between his, his hands gripping the sides of your chair, veins protruding in his forearms as his muscles tensed.

“Your possessiveness gets me hard.” He chuckled darkly.

“I’m not possessive!” You objected immediately, crossing your hands over your chest.

“You demanded I marry you, the ruthless fucking king of the underworld. So now you have to deal with having a wife. And your reluctant queen won’t stand for any more humiliation.” You spat the last part, boldly leaning forward and glaring at him with all the accumulated hatred.

“Princess,” Steve inched even closer, not the least bothered by your outburst. Quite the opposite, he appeared to love it. “My dick hasn’t even twitched for any other woman, since I tasted your lips. There’s no pleasure in standing their fake, exaggerated despair, when I have your sweet pussy so responsive to my darkness…”

Your retort died on your tongue when suddenly one of Steve’s hands gripped your chin.

“Now-” he tightened his pinch on your chin, his voice smoothly transforming into a cold warning. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.”

“Miliana doesn’t have enough spunk and her husband is too much of a scaredy wimp to retaliate in any form.” He showed zero empathy toward them. “But there are eels and sharks swimming around us and some of them would dare to bite back.”

Holding your chin, Steve forced you to lean closer. His breath tickled your mouth as he inched forward, as well.

“And if anyone dared to put a finger on you, it would end in a bloodbath.”

Only Steve could make a psychopathic threat sound like a seductive, velvet vow of a lover.

Your brain screamed that it was wrong, that you should be disgusted by his words and scared of how easily it came to him to take lives. Yet your insides filled with heat, one spreading through your chest and a wave of it pooling low in your abdomen.

“Don’t go on a murder spree, because of some macho obligation.” You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You. Are. Mine, Princess.” Steve punctuated each word with a brush of his lips against yours. “To harm or disrespect you means to hurt or disrespect me. I have no mercy for those. I would cut off the limb, with which they hurt you, and carve out their intestines. Then fuck you while their blood pools at your feet.”

“That’s disgusting,” with how breathy you sounded, your claim felt like a lie.

One that Steve read right away.

“It turns you on.” He chuckled, grinning.

“I know that you get so wet from the scary, unhinged things that I do.” His other hand slapped your knees apart.

“I’m not-” you frowned, ready to deny that as well. Even though your body was already primed for him.

Words went forgotten when Steve picked you in a swift move and deposited you in his lap. The hand on your chin moved to grip the front of your neck; the cool sensation of his rings digging into your soft skin made you gasp. The sound nearly stopped in your throat, because he tightened his grip. And it made your arousal burst stronger.

His right hand ventured between your spread thighs. His fingers easily slipped beneath the flimsy fabric of your underwear and teased your slick folds.

“Soaked.” Steve triumphed, running the ring-adorned knuckle of his index finger up and down between your folds. “Sweet, good-hearted Princess who lives to help people, cumming on her brutal husband’s weapons and cock.”

The mere mention of his thick cock made your pussy pulse. The image of his gun and of the knife sliding along your skin and pressed so close to your most sensitive areas caused a shiver to rock your whole body.

Steve chuckled at your body’s reaction. He laced kisses and licks along your jaw, continuing to tease your cunt.

“As for you wanting to be a queen at my side…” he sucked your earlobe lewdly, making you moan.

“Do you know what a queen’s role is?” He whispered right into your ear before pulling back slightly.

“To stand fierce and unbending beside her king.” He withdrew his hand, kissing your lips when you pouted at the loss of delicious stimulation. Fingers sticky with your slick, he ran his palm up your belly and over your breast. Then to your arm.

“And to give him an heir.”

Steve’s eyes locked with yours as his wet fingers circled your arm, thumb pressing right over where your contraceptive implant was hidden beneath your skin.

“Are you ready for that, Princess?” He asked, rubbing the spot in sinfully slow circles, as he would do your clit. “Are you ready to take out this little implant and let me breed you properly?”

Your brain was too scrambled, even though Steve barely touched you, really. The adrenaline from poisoning a woman who dared to flirt with your husband mixed with desire that the fucker so easily ignited in you.

The unexpected mention of impregnation? In that dark, raw way only your husband dared to speak to you? For a short moment your mind simply stopped working.

“No!” You clenched your eyes, letting the last remnants of reason fight against the threat.

Steve didn’t seem perturbed by your refusal. Perhaps it wasn’t even something he was interested in, just another means to torment you with and make you yield to his command.

“Until then, you remain my Princess.” He declared, cutting off your airflow for a few seconds and taking possession of your mouth.

When he let you breathe again, you felt dizzy and pliant. Your own hands clenched on his shoulders as Steve stood up abruptly. He kicked the chair away and placed you on the dining table.

Plates and wine glasses tumbled over, food and wine spilling across the tablecloth and dripping down on the floor. You felt the sticky wetness soaking into your back as Steve splayed you on the table, but you didn’t care. Not when he was holding you down by your throat with one hand and ripping your soaked underwear with the other.

Then there was the sound of a zipper and Steve’s low, sexy groan as he gripped his hard cock and stroked it a few times.

Steve held your gaze as he tapped his dick against your pulsing clit and then nudged it into your opening. A needy whine vibrated in your throat, tempting the fingers around your neck to squeeze just a tad tighter.

He slammed into you in one stroke; dark victory flamed in his eyes as your body jerked and your pussy clamped around him.

Buried to the hilt, with his hand around your throat and the other holding your leg bent and pressed against your chest, Steve looked down at you. Danger pulsed off of him like a dark aura, reminding you how defenceless you were.

“Don’t ever fucking endanger what’s mine.” He warned.

You glared at him, indignant at being referred to as his. But then he snapped his hips back and into you again, and your ire flowed into brain short-circuiting pleasure.

“My good, depraved Princess.” Steve praised, fucking you hard. “Creaming around my cock so prettily.”

You fisted the tablecloth, mewling as each of his thrust drove you closer to the peak. It was so rough, so raw and based on urges you never considered yourself to have. You hated it. Hated Steve. Hated what he made you into. And you screamed his name as you came.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #dark!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #chris evans smut #touch the darkness

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multiverse-sparkles · 3 months ago

Text

Belonging — S. Rogers

summary: steve had left you for a time that had forgotten him, with only a letter as an explanation. you were given another him, in another universe.

pairings: steve rogers x reader

warnings: angst, very lazy summary, read for a sexy steve! alternate earth, stark reader, eventual soft!dark themes.

“please state your name and where you came from,” the agent utters, tone void of any humane emotion as he gestures to the camera silently mocking you, as it blinked rapidly.

still rubbing your sore wrist, you kept your lips pressed together hoping to make this as unpleasant as you could. you'd been rudely transported into this warped timeline as you were being tossed into the air by a combat robot you used for training; you doubted the pile of metal and wires had the capability nor the powers to hurl you in another dimension, but you were still tossed, rather roughly on your ass.

yet before you even had the chance to process anything, or launch a defensive attack; several high powered guns were pointed at your person, and you were knocked out cold and brought to this interrogating facility.

SHIELD, you bitterly came to the conclusion. you were familiar with their protocols, their interrogation tactics, and their structure of their facility. you'd trained and worked several missions and recon assignments with some of the agents you've seen decorating their halls; even being ushered by colleagues you've shared stale coffee with, but they didn't know you here.

and you've simply reached the desired conclusion; this was an unfamiliar world.

though you have been leading a somewhat destructive life after losing nearly everything after the battle with the mad titan, there was still some self preservation left in you, and you didn't want to totally be obliterated in this foreign world with no body for pepper to mourn with.

what did taylor swift say? play stupid games, win stupid prices.

until you could communicate with friday, or be sure that you're totally safe here, you were going to be the most silent and unhlepful captive these walls have ever seen.

“state your name and where you came from.” the agent bellows firmly.

“what year is it?” you tilt your head, he purses his lips in thought, looking at you as if you're something foreign; then uttering the year.

“huh. so thanos was three years ago?” you breathe, “you guys beat him too?”

the agent looked at you with a suddenly, surprised expression.

“take my blood; run your tests. when you get the result, bring me your highest ranking officer.” you demand.

"tony has a daughter." sam balks in disbelief, his mouth gaping in scandal at the mere prospect of tony's many exploits coming into fruiton. "an adult daughter."

"old news, small head big body." bucky snorts, putting the weights down. sam bristles, a snarky reply tethering on his tongue, yet steve interrupts.

"it's the worst kept secret around the compound." steve remarks amusedly, somehow finding the fact that covert special agents become loose lipped when it came to gossip. "the lesser known fact however, is where she came from." he grabs his flask, and sat upright from the bench, and rehydrated.

the other savory details of your appearance had been limited to a few people; mostly the avengers and the key personnel involved. they hadn't yet realized the reason as to why you'd be in another dimension entirely unprompted. and while they knew time travel was possible, being in an alternate universe was a topic they have yet to dabble in.

so while they try to identify which earth you were originally from, it was better to keep very few people about your origins.

"she just appeared." bucky nods conspiratorially, "an alien, basically."

"basically fit right in." steve shrugs, making light of how many otherwordly being they've encountered over the years. "tony adores her, though." he adds.

"she has everyone eating off her palm, let's be fucking honest." bucky chortles, "kind. endearing. smart. witty—"

"breathtaking actually." sam adds, recalling when he passed by you in the hallways.

"breathtaking." bucky agrees, smirking. "she's every bit of a stark. so much so, she hates steve's guts."

steve huffs, "hate is a strong word."

"you're right. she's incredibly polite, it's almost rude." bucky grins, making no effort to hide the fact that he enjoyed your interactions with steve.

you wouldn't be rude— no, you were the furthest thing from it. you would use honorifics even, call him captain or simply mr. rogers. your hostility with steve would be pronnounced every way that mattered, and bucky could tell it was starting to make steve flustered.

being captain america came with both adoration and hostility— the public either loved him or hated him, and he was used to such instances. steve couldn't please everyone afterall.

the way you looked at him though; it was more than animosity. it felt almost like.. like a scorned lover.

"oh fuck. i knew i shouldn't have been in that mission." sam chortles, while steve grumbles in annoyance. "went out of town once and i miss all these juice." he giggles, and bucky mirrors his grin. perhaps the only time they could maintain a conversation without hurling insults, and jabs at eachother; at steve's expense.

bucky gestures, "wanna know the worst part?" sam nods vigorously, "he's hot for her."

steve abruptly drops the weights he'd been using, making sam and bucky pause at the abrupt noise.

"are the both of you in elementary?" he chides, trying to keep his tone even.

"steve and y/n sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N—"

"fuck off!"

your nerves settled as soon as the caffeine hits your tongue. your shoulders slumped, tension leaving you altogether, and you sighed a silent prayer.

you were plenty similar to tony when it came down to it; your pet projects had been less important where you came from, but so long as your objective was necessary, you won't sleep unless you achieve it.

now, going home was your primary goal... one you'd worked together with tony. or a moniker of him.

it felt strange to address him that way.

you knew their tony stark was different— their avengers stayed intact for one. but to see him again, his excellent goatie and hear his sharp wit, you'd tackled him in a frantic hug and sobbed so hard, he must have thought you to be lunatic.

tony was briefly informed of your identity, and while it wasn't an instantaneous paternal spark, he had felt for you. he had let you cry all you wanted. he consoled you, if a bit awkwardly. unpracticed, just like he had been when you wound up in his care at thirteen leaving him with primary custody.

just like then, he grew to become fascinated with you. you shared his love for engineering and technology. like the first time, he had spent every free moment he had with you; talking to you, getting you situated, making sure you were well taken care of... it felt like deja vu. and you would, eventually, lose him again.

you didn't exist here, just like he didn't exist back in your earth.

"careful."

"sorry!" your exclamation is abrupt as the paper cup crumbles in your hand, body jerking quickly as you avoid spilling coffee to the stranger. you had been so absentminded, you ran into a person's chest— cool baby blues, and the heroic perfect blonde hair paired with the most annoyingly perfect set of teeth welcomed you as you lifted your gaze.

steve rogers held you by your elbow, keeping you from tripping over yourself, "you alright?"

you felt as if something was lodged in your throat, being this close with him. he smelt unfairly delectable, despite being drenched in sweat.

this cannot be happening.

you squirmed out of his hold, and he politely took back his hand, keeping them to himself. just like you were, he was caught off guard. both by your reaction and his.

steve... steve was another complication. you couldn't get too close to him— there were many things left unsaid between the two of you, and you were terrified you would not be able to treat him fairly.

you were still angry with the choice he made.

when steve never returned from returning the stones; you'd assumed the worst. you would have exhausted every means to bring him back, if not for the letter bucky had given you.

he told you he couldn't stay; he told you he wanted to reclaim everything he's lost. he left you for a time long forgotten, and you never saw him again.

you liked to think you would understand him, if only he had told you. you liked to think you'd understand why he made the choice. it was what he wanted for himself.

yet you wonder, not unselfishly, if steve had loved you the way he had promised he did; if steve had known it would be possible to go back, will he still choose you? had he merely settled... were you just there; available, attached, and so starry eyed, you stoked his ego enough for him to forget momentarily.

for the past few months, all you did was agonize over the very fact; had every moment you spent with him been tainted with pretense and lies?

you entertained the very real prospect that he did not love you— maybe then the ache in your chest would not be replaced with anger.

because if he had loved you, the way he uttered in your skin; in a soft whisper, like a sigh of breath first thing in the morning. in a giddy exclamation, with his lips pressing upon yours. or in a dazed, soft coo as he bats away the exhaustion of the day. in a certain, so sure of a declaration, as he wraps you in a warm embrace... why was it not enough?

if he had loved you so assuredly and devotedly, he did not love you enough to choose you.

seeing another version of steve— adoring, with the same gentle cheer about him, so dreamy and bright, you stumbled.

he was steve... and yet he stayed. he had the same choice, yet he never took it. he didn't have someone like you though; so maybe, you were the offending factor in your version of steve. that made you ache.

"i apologize, captain." you purse your lips.

"nothin' to be sorry for," his tone was with a gentle lilt, "you uh.. liking the caffeine choices so far?" steve inwardly cringes at his attempt for conversation. he hadn't known how to talk to you, or how to make conversation with you— especially when you get that dazed look in your eyes, immedieately followed by a guarded expression as if afraid he would probe into your thoughts.

"it's excellent." you affirm, avoiding his gaze as if scalded. you hid your expression with your cup, and finally, steve reluctantly pries his gaze away from you.

steve walked towards the pantry, if to have something to do with himself, "yeah? half the team lives on the stuff, it's pretty good chunk of the budget." he pulls out a cup from the shelf, "once things get busy, it's not strange to find splatters of blood and torn pieces of clothing lying about. it gets primitive."

you fought off a smile. it was an appropriate retelling of how the team functioned— they were like siblings in a way. they have no problem taking a bullet for eachother, but once the coffee pot runs dry, they're throwing hands. the thought of your closest friends made you relax.

"that sounded wrong, did it?" steve winces, turning around with his own brew in hand. you looked at him with some amusement, hiding half your face in your cup, "no harm in a team bonding activity."

pink tinged his cheeks, "i didn't mean it like that." he flusters easily. the captain reminded you why you were fond of toying with steve. "i don't- i'm not.. i— i hope you don't think i'm inappropriate." his broad shoulders sag, looking at you like a kicked puppy, worried as can be of offending you.

steve was watchful of his language, especially when it came to dames; something about his upbringing being wired into his very psyche.

"i'm a stark, captain. would take a lot more to faze me." your eyes twinkled with mischief, and steve softens, almost awes at the genuine emotion he sees in you.

steve seemed to be the only one you were guarded against, and he'd been inappropriately envious of his teammates. they all talked about you in an excited flurry of retelling, like bucky had said, you had everyone eating off your palm. and he always wondered if he'd get to know you the same.

you caught his expression.. and it was as if a cold bucket of water drenched you.

"uh, i guess.. i have something to do." you gripped your cup, and steve stood straighter, opening his mouth to say something. anything. yet his limbs were faster than his... words. you look at him again, with little to no emotion in your face as he ponders how to make sense of his sneaking intuition as he grips your arm.

"did i do something to you?" steve asks, unable to stop himself.

"you haven't." you murmur, "i'm trying to keep it that way. i know from experience how that worked."

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers female reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #soft dark steve rogers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n #avengers fanfiction #avengers

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bandsofmarv · 3 months ago

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Mine to keep

Bucky can no longer hold in his jealous and possessive side and finally claims you.

TW- Heavy smut, bucky angst , jealousy, possessive behaviour. Kinda long.

Side note // I’m also take requests of any character / theme.

Bucky’s blood had been boiling all night. Steve, the perfect All-American golden boy, basking in your attention, your laugh lighting up every damn corner of the bar. And Steve wasn’t even trying—he never had to. But that didn’t make it easier to watch.

Bucky’s drink sat untouched as he leaned against the bar, his jaw tight and his metal fingers twitching with restraint. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, couldn’t stop the jealousy crawling up his spine every time you smiled at Steve.

When Steve finally stepped away to grab another round, Bucky didn’t hesitate. He pushed off the bar and cut through the crowd, his determined strides carrying him straight to you.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice light and playful.

Bucky didn’t return the smile. His eyes were dark, fixed on yours as he crowded into your space. “Having fun?” His voice was a low growl, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head, confused by the tension radiating off him. “Uh, yeah? It’s been nice to catch up with everyone. Steve’s been—”

“Yeah, Steve’s been the life of the party,” Bucky interrupted, his voice tight.

Your brow furrowed. “Are you jealous?”

Bucky’s jaw flexed. “Damn right I am.” His metal hand curled into a fist against his thigh. “Watching him make you laugh like that? Watching you light up for him? You’re mine.”

The intensity in his voice sent a bolt of heat straight through you, your stomach flipping at the raw emotion behind his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Let’s go,” he growled.

————————————————————————

The second your apartment door shut behind you, Bucky had you pinned against it. His lips crashed onto yours, hungry and demanding, his metal hand gripping your hip to hold you in place.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. “Sitting there looking so goddamn perfect, laughing at his jokes like you don’t know you belong to me.”

“I—” Your protest was cut off as he kissed you again, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you. His flesh hand slid down to your thigh, hitching it around his hip to grind his hard length against you.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

His lips curled into a dark smirk as he lifted you off the ground, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his hands already tugging at your clothes with a mix of urgency and reverence.

“Bucky,” you murmured, your breath hitching as his hands—both flesh and metal—explored your body, pulling away your layers one by one.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your bare skin as he worked. “I’ve got you. Just let me show you.”

When he finally had you naked beneath him, he sat back for a moment, his eyes raking over you with undisguised hunger. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So fucking beautiful. All mine.”

He didn’t wait for a response. His mouth found your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point before he kissed his way down your body. His lips and tongue left a trail of fire in their wake, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open for him.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“I want to hear you,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good.” And then his mouth was on you, his tongue sliding against your heat with practiced precision. You cried out, your hips bucking against him as he licked and sucked, his metal hand pinning you to the bed while his flesh hand teased your sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pressure built quickly, your body arching as his tongue drove you higher and higher. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot.

“Bucky!” you gasped, your body shattering around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He didn’t stop, working you through your orgasm until you were trembling beneath him. Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening as he smirked down at you.

“You’re not done yet,” he said, his voice rough with need.

He stripped off his clothes, his muscular frame glinting in the low light of the room. His cock stood hard and ready, and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

He climbed over you, his hands bracketing your face as he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Turn over,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed, rolling onto your stomach as he positioned himself behind you. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you up onto your knees before he slid into you with one smooth thrust.

The stretch was perfect, and you moaned loudly, your hands fisting in the sheets as he set a punishing pace.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his metal hand sliding up your back to grip the nape of your neck. “So tight, so perfect. All mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He leaned down, his chest pressing against your back as he whispered in your ear. “I’ll never let you forget it.”

His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot with every stroke. Your pleasure built quickly, and you felt yourself spiraling toward another release.

“Come for me,” he growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder. “Let me feel you.”

The command sent you over the edge, your body clenching around him as your second orgasm tore through you. Bucky groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release following moments later.

You collapsed onto the bed together, your bodies slick with sweat and your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Bucky pulled you into his arms, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less certain.

“Always,” you whispered, your heart full as you melted into his embrace.

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imyourbratzdoll · 6 days ago

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - you come to find out that the man you grew up alongside isn't the same after the royal ball.

warning - smut, dub-con, death, violence, creampie, kidnapping, slight stockholm syndrome, swearing, obsession.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Y/n-Odette and Steve had known each other since she was a baby. Upon Steve meeting her when she was born, their parents had been planning Steve’s marriage to Y/n-Odette. Over the years as the two grew, they despised each other, causing their parents to worry which they would then be forced to be together every summer.

You had been dreading today. You wished to stay home but your father would not allow it. You sat in the carriage, staring out at the scenery, hoping you could distract your mind from having to see Steve again.

Steve squirmed impatiently, thinking of anything that wasn’t you. A stupid, silly girl. Steve groaned quietly as he went to meet you in the ballroom until he stopped, his heart began to thump. Your smile made him feel weak in the knees. You had the same face, hair and eyes as Y/n-Odette but seemed to be someone quite different.

“Hello, Steve.” You speak, smiling softly.

Steve couldn’t speak, he wondered if you were the same girl he had grown up with. He returned your smile, holding out his arm for you to take. He felt his heart skip as you accepted, taking his arm and together you walked onto the dance floor as the music began to play. Steve felt so happy, like he was dancing on air.

After that night, you and Steve had spent the rest of the summer together. Steve dreamed of you, he awoke each morning eager to see you. When he was with you he felt overjoyed, but he was also tongue-tied and could not tell you how he felt. Steve couldn’t imagine living without you, it was almost like an obsession had begun to grow within him.

The summer had come to an end and it was your time to leave. You and Steve decided to dance all night at the royal ball, love burned so bright that the whole ballroom could practically feel it. You smiled up at the handsome prince but inside you could feel a tug of sadness. You couldn’t bear to leave him, he had given you so much love over the summer but he had never declared it. You hoped he would finally tell you how he felt tonight.

As the music came to a stop, so did you and Steve. You both shared a long glance, waiting, searching, hoping.

Steve suddenly turned to the guests with a giant grin. “Arrange the wedding!”

The noise around you suddenly stopped, everyone was speechless.

“Wait!” You called out.

“What is it?” Steve pleaded, “You’re all I ever wanted. You’re beautiful!”

“Thank you,” You replied, “But… What else?” You knew deep down in your soul that Steve loved you as much as you loved him, so surely he wanted you more than your beauty? You just needed him to say it.

Steve stared blankly, he really had no clue. “What else?”

Your heart dropped. “Is beauty all that matters to you?” You asked, your father and his mother stood dumbfounded, they were so close.

Steve swallowed hard. “I… Er… What else is there?” He asked.

Your heart sank even further. You had been wrong, Steve did not love you at all. You turned and swiftly exited the ballroom, taking the hopes of two kingdoms with you.

You and Steve barely said goodbye as you left. He watched as you departed with shock and bitter disappointment.

Steve sits as Lord Rogers paces the royal sitting room. “What else is there?” He mockingly spoke. “She says, ‘Is beauty all that matters?’ and you say, “What else is there?!”

“It was dumb, I know.” Steve replies, hanging his head as he tries to think.

The weather outside was not helping his mood. It seemed to match the sadness he felt deep within.

“You should write a book.” Rogers continued. “How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less.” Rogers leans forward, flicking Steve’s forehead. “Think!” He urged. “You must see something other than Y/n-Odette’s beauty!”

“Of course I do, Rogers!” Steve begins to stumble as he thinks. “She’s… Well, you know. And then, well… Er…”

Lord Rogers rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I just don’t know how to say it!” Steve finally blurted out, and then he added. “I know, I’ll prove it to her. I’ll prove my love!” He nods to himself before muttering. “I’ll make her mine. I’ll make her see how I see her.” Steve stands, swiftly exiting the room as he begins to form a plan.

Meanwhile inside the carriage, your father shakes his head sadly. “I just don’t understand.” He looks at you, watching as you continue to look out and into the forest. “What else did you want him to say?”

You bite your bottom lip softly before letting it go as you turn to look at your father. “I just need to know that he loves me.”

Suddenly the horses whined and bucked, causing the carriage to stop. “What on Earth–?” King William, your father turned the door handle and stepped out. Beyond the horses, a large man was blocking their path. Although the man stood in the shadows, King William recognised him instantly. He had watched him grow from a small child but he could feel something was off and with one look at you, he orders. “Stay inside, Y/n-Odette.” He closes the door and takes a step forward, his guards moved to encircle him, spears drawn.

“Steve, what are you doing out here so late? How did you get here?” The King had never felt this kind of fear before, it was as though something had possessed the man before him. He looks around, brows furrowed as he sees no way for Steve to have gotten there without them noticing. “You must be cold, my boy. Why don’t you hop inside our carriage and we can take you back to your mother. I am sure she’s worried.”

Steve chuckles and the sound causes The King to stumble, it sounded so dark, so chilling. “I can’t have you do that, sir.”

The Kind and Steve’s mother had always wanted the two of you together but at this moment, he didn’t know this man. At this moment, King William would do anything to protect you. He could feel strong amounts of power radiating off of Steve, darkness he had never felt before. King William steps back towards the carriage, his guards moving forward slightly, protecting him and you.

Steve’s eyes sweep over them all, causing a shiver to run through their bodies. “Why are you scared?” Steve takes a small step forward, his foot sinking into the soil beneath him.

King William clears his throat, straightening his back. “We are not scared. Why don’t you come back with us? Then we can take you back in the morning.” His head whips around as he hears you scream, his eyes widen as he sees Steve’s best friend pulling you from the carriage.

Thumps can be heard and The King whips back around only for his eyes to widen as Steve stands toe-to-toe with him and his guards lay dead around them. “I said, I can’t have you do that, sir. I want Y/n-Odette and as long as she has you, she will never fully devote herself to me.” Steve towers over the short King, making him seem as tiny as an ant. “I may have screwed up this evening but she will be mine.”

“S–Ste–” King William is cut off by Steve’s hand gripping his throat, his eyes bulged and skin begins to turn purple.

Everything had turned black after you were pulled from the carriage, unaware of what had happened with your father. You woke up surrounded by water but you felt weird causing you to look down, shock and fear shoot through you as you see white. You were no longer in your body, instead of a human body it had been replaced with that of a swans.

“Y/n–Odette.” Hope ran through you as you heard Steve’s voice, your eyes darting around until they landed on his large figure. “You’re finally awake, my little swan.” That hope that had built inside of you had come crashing down once you realised that he wasn’t there to save you. Your body moves, gliding across the water, distancing yourself away from the man you thought you had known. “Don’t let the small spell make you sad, Y/n–Odette. It doesn’t last the whole day, as soon as the moon comes up…”

Steve didn’t need to finish, creeping across the lake the moonlight touched your wing. Water began to swirl from below, your swan-like self rose upward in a shimmering golden-grey light, transforming you into your human form.

Steve grins. “That’s how it will be until you are mine, Little Swan.” He said as you landed gently on the shore. “You have to be on the lake, of course and when the moonlight touches your wings, you’re human!”

You turned away from him, betrayal blossoming within you. Your thoughts went to your father. “My father… Is he okay?”

“Define okay…”

You spun around, eyes wide and full of tears. “What did you do to him?!”

Steve merely shrugs. “I may have killed him.”

You gasp, reeling back as the tears begin to slowly fall. “Y–you…”

Steve moves closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek but you move your head. His brows furrow as anger seeps in but he shakes it off, allowing you this. “Killed him, yes. I had to, otherwise I couldn’t have you, Y/n-Odette.”

“You can’t have me now, Steve! You killed my father! You kidnapped me and trapped me at this lake forever!” Your eyes meet his, so many emotions swirl around behind them. “I could’ve gotten over you only liking me for my looks but this… This is too much. You’re not the man I thought you were. The man I grew to love…”

“Now, don’t speak like that, Y/n-Odette. Sooner or later you are going to cave into being mine. You’ll learn to love this version of me.” He grabs your chin, ignoring how you fight against his hold and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Don’t fight it, little swan. You’ll be mine soon.” And with those words, he leaves. Leaving you alone and broken, your body hits the ground as sobs break free, your pain filling the forest around you.

Days, weeks, maybe even months go by without you giving into Steve and his advances. No matter what he did, you remained silent and distant. You began to enjoy your swan form, using it as an excuse to escape your human problems.

On the other hand, Steve was slowly losing it. He began taking his anger out on everyone else, those who loved and admired him, now feared him. His mother thought that it had something to do with your disappearance and your father’s death. Only if she knew the truth would she hate the man her son became.

Steve grew impatient, he didn’t understand why you weren’t his already. Why did you have to be so stubborn? Did you not see how much he loved you? “What else do I have to do, Buck? She’s supposed to be mine.” He put his head in his hands. His best friend watched him from the doorway, arms crossed.

“I don’t think you’re being rough enough. You’re being too sweet on her, Steve. A woman like her needs rough handling, someone to dominate her.” Bucky pushes off of the wall and moves closer to his friend. “You need to stop playing Mr. Nice guy.”

Steve nods, standing and patting Buck’s shoulder with a smile. “You’re right, Buck.” His smile slowly turns into a smirk. “I guess it’s time to go get my girl.” And with that, he walks out of the castle and into the woods.

Steve reached his destination the moment moonlight shone on the lake, watching golden-grey swirls appear as your form changes from swan to human. He grins, sauntering straight towards you. “Little swan. As beautiful as ever.” He shakes off the strange feeling that appears when you brush off his words, already ignoring and moving away from him. Too bad Steve had already reached you before you could distance yourself further.

He pulls you closer to him, gripping your chin roughly as he forces you to look him in the eyes. “I don’t appreciate this attitude, Y/n-Odette. You’re mine and I am going to make you see that whether you like it or not.” You shiver under his hold as he growls. Steve pulls you over to a tree and pushes you up against it, your dress bunching up against your hips as he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your pulse quickens and your eyes widen, you push against his shoulders with poor attempts. Deep down you wanted this, you just didn’t like the person he became. “N–no, no. Steve. You… You can’t do this. Please.”

Steve caresses your cheek, smiling almost too sweetly at you. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, Y/n-Odette. You’re mine. We’re meant to be together.” His hand moves, gripping your chin with his thumb. His eyes fall to your lips as your mouth opens slightly. “I’m going to make you my wife, my Queen, little swan. Then you will bear my children.”

You shake your head, ignoring how you throb at the thought. “I’m done waiting for you to give in, Y/n-Odette. You need to understand that you’re already mine.” Steve presses against you, feeling you throb against his clothed cock. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me, little swan.” A small whine slips through your lips. “Just give in. Let me make you feel good.” You gasp as he pulls you into a kiss, all thoughts leaving your mind as his lips begin to move, pulling you deeper into his hold. Steve nips your bottom lip, sliding his tongue inside as a moan escapes your mouth.

You barely notice as he frees himself, sliding his hardened cock between your lips. Your grip tightens on his shoulders, pulling away slightly. “S–Steve…”

His hand moves, caressing your cheek. “Shh, little swan. It’s okay.” Your mouth drops and eyes roll back as he slides into you, filling you to the brim with one thrust. “That’s my good girl, feel so good for me.” Steve grunts, pressing you into the tree harder while he holds back from roughly fucking into you. You go limp in his arms, never having felt this amount of pleasure before, not even the times when you had touched yourself.

“O–oh… Steve…”

Steve smirked to himself, “Is that all you needed, little swan? My cock? If I had known all I had to do was fuck you to get you like this, I would’ve done it along time ago.” You want to argue back, huff and disagree with him but he was right, you couldn’t think when he was inside of you. His grip on you tightens before he suddenly begins to fuck you, slowly pulling out only to roughly thrust back in. Your moans trapped in your throat and your back arches, pressing close to his.

Steve grunts, his eyes locked on your face. He felt smug that the pleasure you were feeling was caused by him. He changes the angle of his hips, his cock sliding deeper inside of you, hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. Your hands grip Steve’s back, nails clawing into any skin you can find.

Steve’s hand moves up, his thumb swiping the necklace that lay around your neck. His hips not stopping as he stares deep into your eyes. “The moment I gave you this necklace, Y/n-Odette was the moment you became mine, there was no stopping this fate. You’re stuck with me, little swan.”

Your walls clench around him as he claims you. His thrusts pick up as he begins to pound into you, chasing his release. He grips your hips and neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. The moment his lips meet yours, it feels like your mind has become cloudy, unable to think about anything other than the feeling of him inside you. You didn’t know how someone’s lips had the power to wipe your mind clean of any thoughts.

Steve shoves a hand between your legs, his fingers finding your swollen clit and immediately pressing on it. Rolling it between his fingers before stroking it while his cock continues to hit deep inside. “Cum for me, little swan. Let me feel you milk my cock.” Steve groans, pressing closer to you as he whispers against your lips.

Your head falls back against the tree, feeling your cunt pulse and throb as Steve continues to rub your swollen clit and thrust against the sweet spot deep inside you. “Go on, little swan. Cum for me.” Your eyes cross as Steve buries himself deep inside of you, your toes curl as you squeeze him. You feel your orgasm ripple through you, your moans echoing throughout the forest.

“My good little swan.” He growls out as he fucks into you before his cum shoots out, painting your walls a pretty white. As Steve softens inside of you, he pulls back to look at your face and grins almost evilly, the back of his hand stroking your cheek. “You’re going to make such a pretty Queen, little swan.”

You would learn that you may think you know someone but everyone has a little bit of darkness lurking within and you just happened to be the target.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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nastybuckybarnes · 5 months ago

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Teddy Bear Picnic - Two

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: If you go down in the woods today you’re sure of a big surprise - The one where your captor tries to get you to warm up to him, but all you want is to go home.

Warnings: Dark fic, dark themes, violence, language, injuries, this chapter is darker than the first

Word Count: 1.3K

A/n: part two uwu this part is darker than the first so be warned but also y e a h setting up some fun stuff for this series. hope y'all enjoy! I'm moving AGAIN tomorrow so i might be a little MIA or i might not, i guess we'll find out!

!!This is a Dark Fic with Triggering and Sexual Content. Read at Own Risk!!

~*~

"Why are you not eating?" He asks, sitting across from you on the thin mattress, watching as Arlo bounds around the basement excitedly, chasing his own tail and absolutely unaware of the danger.

You look down at the few plates of food on the ground that have been nibbled on by Arlo.

"I'm not hungry."

"Don't lie."

You can't bring yourself to look at him, to meet his eyes.

"It's not poisoned, you know that. Your dog eats and he's fine. Why do you not eat?"

You sigh heavily and shake your head, tears filling your eyes.

You're not sure how many days have gone by, all you know is that you miss your family tremendously. Every time you wake up you lose a little more hope.

"Let me go," you whisper, sniffling. "Please, just let me go home."

He reaches forward, ignoring the way you flinch away, and wipes a tear off of your cheek.

"I know you're scared, but this is good. It's so good. I won't hurt you, you just gotta listen to me, okay?"

You sniffle again and nod.

"Good girl. Now, all you need to do is eat, okay? Just eat a bit. I can't have you starving yourself now, sweetheart. You're going to be very important to me."

You clench your bound hands in fists in front of you, shaking your head.

"Why me?" You ask softly, not wanting to risk making him angry.

"Everything happens for a reason. You came out into the woods for a reason, darling. And it brought you to me. You're meant for me. I was meant to find you out there. You're lost... and now I've found you. Don't you see it?"

Your heart sinks.

You used to believe that everything happened for a reason but now? Now it surely can't be true. Why would this happen to you? If everything is meant to happen then why do horrible things happen to good people?

"Now, eat your breakfast. If you're a good girl, I'll see about getting rid of the ropes around your wrists. How's that sound?"

The idea of even the smallest sort of freedom has you perking up a bit.

It's been days and he hasn't hurt you, the food hasn't made Arlo sick.

He watches you with the eyes of a predator as you pick at the toast Arlo nibbled on hours ago when it was brought down to you.

"Everything is homemade or locally bought. I like to know what goes in my food," he says quietly, eyes lighting up when you take a small bite.

Your stomach flips and churns as you chew, your hunger now making itself very apparent.

Steve nods encouragingly.

"Good, good girl. That's what I like to see."

You take another bite, watching as he gives you a soft smile.

"There you go. I knew you were good."

You swallow the bite in your mouth, cheeks suddenly feeling like they've been stuffed with cotton balls.

"Can... can I have some water? Please?" You ask quietly, shrinking back the tiniest bit as if awaiting a blow.

His face lights up with joy and he nods happily.

"Of course. Anything for you."

You want to ask to be set free, to go home to your family, your mother. But you somehow know that's not included in the 'anything' he spoke of.

He's quick to rise to his feet and all but race up the stairs, and Arlo takes that moment to trot back over to your lap, sitting down comfortably.

You scratch between his ears, fighting back tears as your captor comes back down the stairs with a bottle of water in his grasp.

"It's sealed, nothing's inside of it," he explains gently, sitting down and handing you the bottle.

You twist the lid off, finding small comfort in the fact that he's telling the truth. The seal breaks with a soft crack and then you're bringing the bottle to your lips and swallowing mouthful after mouthful.

"Not too fast, I don't want you to choke," he murmurs.

You briefly wonder what he would do if you did choke. If you let the water flood your lungs instead of your belly, but he's taking the bottle from you before you can find out.

"This is good. You're being so so good for me. We can be happy if you keep this up," he whispers, cupping your cheek.

Your bottom lip quivers and you shake your head slowly.

"What do you want from me? Why me?" You ask for what feels like the millionth time.

He heaves out a sigh and drags his thumb across your bottom lip.

"What are the odds you would stumble directly in my path? Hmm? Now, I'm not a religious man, but it's hard to argue divine intervention in a case like this." He brings his other hand up and holds your face softly, gingerly, like you're made out of glass.

"You were made for me. You are what I'm owed. And I promise I will take very very good care of you, so long as you behave."

~*~

"Can... can I take a shower? Please?" You ask a few days later, scratching Arlo's head.

He untied your wrists a day prior, and you really hope you're not pressing your luck.

He looks at you for a long moment then slowly nods.

"Yes. Are you bringing the dog?"

As if that's even a question.

Clutching Arlo to your chest, you slowly follow him up the stairs, wincing against the harsh daylight that floods through the open doorway.

"This way. I'll let you shower and then I can show you around. Oh, we're going to have so much fun," he says wistfully, almost sighing the words.

You glance around hurriedly, looking for an exit, a weapon, anything, but he's quick to step behind you and usher you toward the bathroom.

"Here, this is the guest bathroom. There's... body wash, shampoo, conditioner. I went and bought everything I thought you would need. Towels are just in here, and there's a fresh toothbrush for you under the sink. Take your time, and call me if you need anything."

He pauses and looks at you, his eyes holding new fire, "and I mean anything."

You swallow hard and nod, waiting until he closes the door to make a move.

The first thing you do, is set Arlo down on the ground. The next is turn the shower on.

Then, you open up one of the bathroom drawers, successfully blocking the door.

Eyes on the prize, you open the window next and yank the screen out.

"Okay, we've got one shot at this," you whisper, taking Arlo into your grasp and stepping up onto the toilet to give you more leverage to jump out.

Peering outside carefully, you take a deep breath and then carefully climb up into the window, balancing with one leg outside.

Steadying yourself, you hold Arlo tightly then swing your other leg over and jump from the window, landing with a soft 'thud' on the grass below.

Your ankle pinches, and you wince, then push to your feet and set Arlo down.

You'll be faster without him in your hands, and he' can easily outrun your captor.

"Come, Arlo, let's go!" You whisper, taking off running through the grass toward the trees.

You have no idea where you're going, you just know that anywhere is better than here.

As the treeline nears, your hope grows, only to be brutally shot down by the weight on your back that brings you tumbling to the ground.

"No!" You screech, clawing at the ground to try and get away from him.

"Shut up!" He shouts, pushing your face into the ground as you continue screaming and sobbing.

You cough, spitting out dirt and grass and crying into the ground.

"Why are you doing this? You said you'd be good! I told you to be good!" He exclaims, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you backward.

You kick your feet and grab at his hands, smacking and scratching at him to try and get him to let you go. You wail and scream and cry, but your fights against him are nothing compared to his strength.

"No, no please!" You shriek, thrashing in his arms.

"Stop it!" He hisses, giving you a harsh tug, and you're forced to watch as Arlo's little body disappears into the trees.

Your captor all but wrestles you back down into the basement, shoving you to your knees despite your screams and pleas.

He kicks the mattress aside and yanks your arms behind your back, binding you tightly with your arms straight.

You sniffle and sob when he's finished, crawling toward the stairs desperately.

"No! You're not leaving me!" He shouts, yanking on the rope and forcing you back.

You shriek at the pain in your arms and he gives you another hard yank.

"Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! Stop screaming or I'll give you something to scream about!" He threatens, stepping around to stand in front of you.

You cower, scrambling back as fast as you physically can, sniffling and hiccuping the whole time. You look like a wounded animal, curled up in a ball, terrified for your life.

"Arlo," you moan, "I just want Arlo... please," you beg, looking up at him with big weepy eyes.

He leans down and grabs your jaw roughly, tilting your head this way and that.

"Then you should've thought about that before you tried to leave me. He's wolf food now," he whispers. His eyes are evil, full of anger and fury and something else that terrifies you beyond comprehension.

"No," you moan, shoulders slumping forward.

He drops your head and takes a deep breath, straightening up smoothing out his shirt.

"I'll be back with dinner. You'd better eat it."

He turns and walks up the stairs, turning the light on as he does.

Now you're really alone, and you wish you never tried to escape.

#steve rogers x reader #dark fic #darkfic #dark!fic #dark themes #steve x reader #steve x reader dark fic #steve rogers x reader dark fic #steve rogers x reader angst #steve x reader angst #tw: dark content #tw: dark themes #tw: dark fic #tw dark fic #tw kidnapping

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eccentricallygothic · 5 months ago

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Psycho Husband!Steve Rogers who is a crazed coercive bastard.

Warning(s): Noncon, misogyny/sexism, depraved housewife kink, head shaving/hair cutting, he's a mental mf who thinks he is only doing what's best for you; cruel punishments are care and better sense according to him, age gap, fear kink, infantilization, humiliation, size kink. MDNI.

. . .

You meekly sit atop your husband, Steve Rogers' lap as he feeds himself and you the dinner you meticulously prepared for him as he cares greatly for detail and perfection.

The older man hums with each bite, one large paw caressing your back from over the thin -nearly sheer- material of one of the many dresses that make up the entirety of your wardrobe.

“Absolutely delicious, baby, good job” he has been praising you with each bite and so you cannot help but smile at the compliments, your smaller body resting against his as you gently comb his hair with your fingers.

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

“Thank you, my heart” you kiss his cheek that he had shaved just this morning when you were on your knees getting rid of his morning wood. He usually does that at night but you chose to wear a certain dress yesterday that caused for you to remain trapped in bed from the moment he got home till the both of you woke up tangled and sticky.

“See?” Now his fingers silkily glide up the length of your spine, past its dents that appear on your nape and towards your scalp that holds no barriers between your skins. “Wasn't I right?” Steve's fingertips flex all over your shiny head that he keeps empty from any hurdle between yourself and him. “Didn't it make things all better for us, hm?” Your tongue grows heavy and you feel it beginning to swell.

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

“Yes, hubby, you were” you feel him stroke the bald crown of your head and the feeling of his coarse skin rubbing your soft and moisturized one sends shivers down your spine.

His dark but relaxed blue eyes watch you, outwardly friendly but secretly inspecting you closely for the tiniest slip up. “Just too stupid to see it back then, weren't you?”

You nod nervously, offering him a smile as you avert your gaze from his, choosing to awkwardly play with his dress shirt instead. “Yes, hubby, I was.” Before you look up momentarily. He hates it when you don't look at him while speaking. “Thank you for teaching me better.”

“And what did I teach you?” You bite your tongue, his words scalding your ears.

Of course, he wants you to say it.

It is a routine that he likes to do every night.

“That you are always right because you know better.” You resist the urge to cringe from how he suddenly gives you a burst of praise head rubs.

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

He knows you don't like his hand rubbing your bald head like you're some kind of an animal and he still does it.

You've made the mistake of fighting back one too many times in the past.

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

“Yeah?” His eyes begin to dance all over your form in that lewd fashion of theirs. “And how did I teach you that?” This is nothing new, and yet your heart drops.

“You taught me by…” Your face becomes hot from the embarrassment and humiliation. “B- By…” Fuck.

Even after all this time, it's no easier to do it.

“By?” You can feel his sick arousal poke into the back of your thigh. He shifts to readjust himself. “Know what, honey?” He actually has the gall to sound friendly like he's doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart. “I'll help your little mind out by giving you a hint.” You cannot hold his gaze anymore. So you drop your eyes and train them on his collars as you whimper into his cheek from how he hugs you closer with the arm he has draped around you. He loves proximity. “It had something to do with a machine and a cute head” his long fingers caress your scalp in circular motions.

Your heart is erratic against his chest. “H–” the whimper you let out is shaky and pathetic. Your expression falters into one of pain but you recover just as fast. At least on the outside. “T- Taught me by shaving my head.”

Steve's smirk is one of pride. “Oh? And what setting did I shave it on? Did I leave anything behind or did you become a complete cueball?”

Tears sting your eyes from the sensitivity and helplessness as you feel your throat tighten even more. “N- No, hubby. Nothing was left. You shaved it all off…” Closing your eyes momentarily is the only way you can let out your next words. “Until I was a cueball.”

“And why was that, huh, baby?” Now he speaks to you like you're a child.

He does that when he is horny.

The realization makes your stomach twist.

“B- Because you warned me many times but—” your voice breaks and you softly sob into his cheek all of a sudden because the memories overwhelm you. “I didn't l- listen and my hair kept getting in the food I would prepare for you.” He somberly cooes and lowers your head forwards in a submissive position to caress the links of your spine.

“Oh, honey. Is that what happened?” Though Steve rests his cheek atop your bald head that he keeps shiny with scented oils and feigns sadness his bulge is too stiff against your tender skin for his little act to hold any weight.

“Yes, hubby.” Your tears fall on your lap.

“And how did it happen, huh, darling?” He loves the helplessness of your situation. That has got to be it. “Can you tell me?”

You nod and swallow the bile in your throat. Denial is not an option. “The scary razor went all over my head, hubby” you make yourself sound like a baby because that's what he likes. “Like buzz buzz buzz~” you try to mimic the sound and gesture as you run a pretend trimmer over your naked scalp.

“Aw, it was scary for your little baby self, was it?” You timidly nod, pouting a little. “That's because you're so small and easily scared, aren't you?” He presses kisses all over your head and pinches your cheek.

“Yes, hubby.”

“Aw, my poor girl” he cups your face and lets his thumb trace the shape of your mouth. “I get it, you’re just a baby” he cannot but kiss you deeply before speaking again.

“But it was necessary, wasn't it? And it worked” it is typical of him to seek validation for his unhinged actions from you, probably helps him sleep easier and pumps his pompousness further. “No more hair in the food.” He smiles and forces you to look at him by tipping your head back.

“No more hair in the food.” You echo him like the hollow doll he has made of you.

“Awww” he chuckles at the dejection in your voice. “Cheer up, silly. You look just as perfect as the first moment I laid my eyes on you” his lips repeatedly peck yours for a few moments. Then he continues. “I am the only one whose opinion matters for you and I think you're the most gorgeous thing alive” he scoops you up in his arms before standing up and you give him a smile like you're supposed to. He leans in to capture it in his own. “The cueball only makes you sexier and more nude for me. So it's a win all around” you whimper into the words he utters against your mouth. “C'mon, hubby will make you feel all better.” He whispers before carrying you to the bedroom. It is impossible not to be aware of your devastation and that is why he offers compensation the way he does. “Yeah?”

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

If you made it down here, hi you're cool.

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bossbtch1 · 1 year ago

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Golden Boy of America

Summary : What if Steve Rogers wasn't the revered symbol of American virtue that everyone believed him to be? Contrary to the public perception of his kindness and charm, you've come to realize it was all a façade. Now, you find yourself in a nightmarish scenario—kidnapped and bound, questioning everything you thought you knew about the man once hailed as the golden boy of America.

Pairings : Dark!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Words : 6,9k

General tags : SMUT, 18+, NSFW

TW : dark fic, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, degradation, non-con, dirty talk, oral sex, smut, vibrator, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, rough sex, p in v, overstimulation, breeding kink, forced impregnation

A/N : This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I've been going back and forth, tweaking the story to add a darker twist. I've always felt like there's more beneath the surface of Captain America's heroic façade, he did good and sacrificed everything for the world. What if he's not as perfect as he seemed? And you had to be the one who found out about his true side, his dark side. That's the premise of this one shot, enjoy~

Before you continue, please read TW again. This is a dark!fic and explicit, strictly for readers 18+. I don't condone any of this kind of thinking in real life, this is purely fan fiction. Please, DO NOT PROCEED if these themes disturb you. Please don't read if this content is not your cup of tea, you've been warned.

My masterlist

The sound of a car door slamming shut is the last thing you remember before everything went black. A dull ache in your head is what you first felt when you woke up.

When you open your eyes, you find that your hands and legs are bounded by rope and tape, the coldness of the floor and walls send shivers down your spine. It takes a few seconds for you to process the situation you were in. The first thing that came into mind was where you were, who did this and why? Your memories were all a blur, you can't remember how you got into this predicament.

You hear a door open from somewhere, it echoes in the empty space, making the hairs on your arm stand up. You start to feel anxious and scared as your heart beats loudly. "Hello?" You say and the voice bounces off the walls, not knowing who was behind this.

"Good, you're awake now." A familiar voice speaks out, walking into the room. Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape.

"S-Steve? W-What's going on? Why am I here?" You ask him, fear evident in your voice. Steve doesn't answer and stares at you blankly. He's standing right in front of you. "Answer me!" You demand but he remains silent, only looking at you.

"You don't have the right to tell me what to do." He said with a dark expression.

"What the fuck, Steve!" you said as you were tied to a chair. The ropes were tight enough to not get out of but loose enough so it doesn't hurt. "Let me go, Steve, you bastard!"

He was standing in front of you with his arms crossed and a stoic expression. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked like he was going to kill someone.

"Why should I? So, you can escape and go tell on me? Tell everyone what a bad man I am? Huh?" Steve said as he walked up to you and grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. "You know I can't let you do that."

He kept you in a small bedroom. The wallpaper was torn, revealing the rotten wood behind it. A single bed and a rickety drawer stood as the only furnishings. The window had its shutters closed, allowed no glimpse of the outside world and there was only a single light bulb illuminating the room. It gave a very eerie feeling.

"Steve, let me go." You said in a low voice.

"I can't do that." He said, running his fingers through his hair. "If I do, they will find me and put me in jail."

"Steve, they will not find you. I swear I won't tell anyone." You said as you tried to get up. But Steve came up and pushed you back to the chair.

"Stop. Fucking. Moving." He said in a menacing tone. "You're not the boss here. I am." He said.

"Do you think you can just imprison me like this?" you shouted, your voice cracking with frustration. "What you're doing is cruel and inhumane!"

A chilling smile crept across Steve's lips as he retorted, "Oh, I can, and I will. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. I have my reasons, and I won't let you ruin everything I've worked for."

Your voice trembled with shock and disbelief, "What do you mean I'm not the first? There were others before me? What happened to them? Who are you?!"

"I've always been Steve Rogers, the same person you met and fell for. As for the others, they were my mistakes, and I fixed them." Steve replied in a casual tone as if talking about the weather. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you won't have to worry about that. I won't make the same mistakes twice."

"What happened to them?" you asked, feeling the blood drain from your face.

"That's none of your concern, sweetheart. You don't need to worry about them. All you need to worry about is obeying me."

You couldn't believe that the man in front of you was the same person you'd known. "I will not obey you, Steve."

He laughed as he sat on the bed, "You’re not the Steve I know. You're fucking insane! You're no hero!" You screamed at him, "I saw you kill that man, Steve. You took his life without a shred of remorse."

He shook his head. "Y/N it was necessary. He was a criminal, and it was self-defense."

"No it wasn’t!" you raised your voice. “You had other options, you could have spared his life, but you didn't. You killed him because you're a psychopath!"

He ignored your statement and said, "I told you, you should have never followed me. You've made this very hard for yourself." He crossed his arm, "I warned you, I tried so fucking hard so you wouldn't see any of this, but you just had to follow me."

He was right, if you listened to him and didn’t follow him, you wouldn’t end up like this. You didn't know how to respond.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me next?"

"Oh, please, if I was going to kill you, I would have done it the minute I brought you here." He said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, why would I kill you when you could be so much more useful to me alive."

"Useful?"

"Yeah. I could use some help." He said as he walked closer to you.

"What kind of help?" you asked.

He smirked and licked his lips. "The fun kind."

"Steve, what are you talking about?" you asked, fearing the answer.

He leaned in closer and whispered into your ear. "I'm sure you'll be a good girl and obey."

You didn't like where this was going. "Steve, please let me go." you whispered, trying not to cry. You were scared, you were tied to a chair and no one knew where you were. You were scared of what Steve was going to do to you.

"You're begging already?" He laughed dryly. "It hasn't even been 20 minutes."

"Please." You sighed and tried to break free from the ropes. "You can't keep me here, Steve. Please"

"I can do anything I want." he whispered, his face getting closer to yours. You tried to lean back, but there was no room. You could feel his breath fanning over your face. You shut your eyes.

"You don't want to do this, Steve." You said.

"Don't I?" he asked, tilting his head. "Because it seems like I do."

"Please..." You opened your eyes, you had tears forming in them. You were scared, he could do anything he wanted to you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

"You look so pretty when you beg, you know that?" he said, his face inches from yours.

"Steve, don't do this. Please" You begged.

He ran his fingers over your cheek and wiped away the tear that was threatening to fall. "Shame that it had to be like this."

"Steve... I-I promise I won't tell anyone." you whimpered, flinching at his touch. You didn't want him to touch you.

He shook his head. "You've seen what I did."

"It was an accident. We can get out of this," you pleaded, your voice laden with desperation, seeking any flicker of empathy in his eyes.

"No. We can't. This was inevitable. Don't worry, sweetheart. You're going to love it here," Steve declared with an unsettling certainty, his tone almost comforting, as if he genuinely believed the twisted reality he was creating.

"Steve, please. You can't keep me here. If not for you, at least do it for our friendship. Please, let me go"

"This will be the last time you beg, Y/N. I will not repeat myself. You're not going anywhere. This will be your new home"

"It won't be," you insisted, defiance laced with fear.

"You'll see, in time, you'll change your mind." Steve's response echoed through the room, the unsettling assurance leaving you with a sinking feeling of dread as the realization set in that escape seemed increasingly improbable.

The room seemed to close in, the peeling wallpaper and the flickering light bulb casting eerie shadows that danced around the space, creating an atmosphere of both captivity and impending menace.

Your hand struggled against the rope as you watched him. Your eyes wide and frightened. "You see, my sweet Y/N. I've got my eye on you for quite a while. Maybe after I've had my fun with you, I'll consider letting you go. Who knows" he smiled at you, his hand caressing your lips. You felt sick.

"Don't you dare touch me" you hissed, jerking your face away from him. His eyes flashed with anger for a second before it was gone.

"You don't have a choice" he chuckled. He took hold of your jaw and brought his face closer to yours, his lips a breath away. "I will enjoy making you scream and beg for mercy."

You felt his hands trail down your neck and down to the top of your shirt. He looked up at you before ripping your shirt open, making the buttons fly across the room. You gasped as you felt the cool air hit your skin. You were left in your bra, the thin lace fabric the only thing protecting you.

"Don't"

"Don't what?" He grinned and pulled your bra straps down, exposing your breasts. You tried to cover yourself but you couldn't. You were still tied to the chair, and he was stronger than you.

"Please. Just stop" You felt tears roll down your cheeks.

"Oh, honey. This is just the beginning" He took one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it, making you gasp in pain. He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. You squirmed under his touch, trying to push him away, but he held onto your wrists and kept you in place.

"Stop! Please, Steve. I'm sorry!"

"No. I don't think you're sorry" he growled as he moved to your neck and bit down. He sucked on the sensitive skin, making sure he left a mark.

"Stop!" you exclaimed, trying to push him off you. He chuckled at your efforts, then next he was moving his hands down your waist and stopping at the top of your jeans.

"Now, be a good girl and stay still. Wouldn't want to ruin such pretty underwear, now would we?" he asked as he slowly pulled your pants down. Your breathing sped up and you started to squirm.

"Steve, stop, please, I'm sorry, just let me go, please" you pleaded, tears pricking your eyes. You couldn't believe that he was doing this.

"Stop with the dramatics, princess. It won't change a thing. Just sit back and enjoy, it'll feel better if you relax" he cooed, pulling your jeans down to your ankles. You felt a sob escape your throat as he looked down at you, his eyes looking hungry and lustful.

"Please, don't do this, Steve, please"

"Shh, princess, I'm going to make you feel good, okay? But, first, I gotta take these off" he murmured, reaching for your panties. Your breathing stopped, and you felt yourself shake.

"Steve" you whimpered, shaking your head. Tears were falling down your face, and Steve was wiping them away.

"Such a pretty sight. You're gonna look so pretty covered in my marks" he whispered as he leaned down and started to suck on your neck. You let out a strangled moan as you tried to move your head away from him.

"Get off, you creep" you groaned, trying to kick him away. He didn't seem fazed and just held your hips down. He was much stronger than you, and the more you struggled, the harder his grip became.

"That's it, baby. Squirming like a little slut" he murmured, moving his hand down and under your panties. You shook your head frantically, trying to kick him away again.

"Don't touch me, please" you begged, closing your legs tightly. He looked up at you, his blue eyes darkening with lust. "Steve, get off me!"

"You know, I've seen the way you've looked at me. Like a piece of meat" He was right, you couldn’t lie, you were attracted to him ever since you first saw him. Who wasn’t attracted to him? He was kind and gentle. Even right now after you found out who he really was, you still feel attracted to him. You knew you shouldn’t be.

“You’re disgusting!” You spat in defiance, you were in denial.

"You say that now, but I'll have you screaming my name"

"I'll never scream your name, you pervert."

"We’ll see about that, princess.” he murmured, kissing down your stomach. You shivered as you felt his warm breath fanning over your stomach. You didn't want him this close.

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but why are you already wet huh?” You were shaking your head, trying to get him to stop. But it felt so good.

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but you sure are wet, darling. So, what is it, hm? Tell me, are you wet because you want me or is it something else?” He pushed a finger inside of you, making you gasp. He began pumping his finger in and out, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Fuck. I've always wondered what you would feel like. So tight and warm." He continued pumping his finger in and out of you, and you tried to hold back a moan. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he was pleasuring you.

"Scream my name, princess."

"Never." You said through clenched teeth.

"That's fine, sweetheart, I can do this all day." He smirked.

You could feel his finger moving inside of you, hitting the spot that made your legs tremble. You tried to hold back a moan, but he knew what he was doing.

"Oh fuckkk," you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"That's right, princess, be a good girl for me" he groaned, moving his fingers inside you. You moaned, feeling him thrust his fingers in and out. He moved his lips back to your neck, biting and sucking. He added another finger and curled his fingers inside of you.

You let out a small moan, and he smirked. "Come on, princess, you can do better than that."

He added a third finger and thrust them faster, making your hips buck. He was moving his fingers faster and faster, and you could feel yourself getting closer.

You couldn't stop the moans from escaping. Your body betrayed you.

He continued curling his fingers inside of you, and you felt a pressure building up.

"P-please, st-stop, I don't- I don't w-want" you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"What, princess, don't wanna have some fun?"

"No, I-I don't want th-this"

"Stop lying to yourself, princess.” He said as he kissed your cheeks. “You're so pretty like this, Y/N. All vulnerable and defenseless"

"I'm not-"

"Oh, baby, I know. But don't worry, I'll make you feel so good."

"Fuck, Steve"

"That's right, baby, moan my name. You sound so beautiful." He laughed and continued thrusting his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut as his fingers went deeper, hitting your g-spot.

"Beg me, princess. Beg me to make you come.” he said, moving his fingers faster. Your breathing sped up as he added a third finger, stretching your hole.

"Screw you!" You refused to beg him, not giving him the satisfaction.

"You will. You'll beg me to make you come, and then you'll beg me to fuck you. You'll beg me to use your body until I've had my fill."

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. He began rubbing your clit again, causing your legs to shake. You could feel your climax approaching, and you didn't know whether to be relieved or scared. "I can feel how close you are. Say it, princess. Beg me."

Then when you were about to cum, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You wanted to cry. "No!" You panted, trying to catch your breath.

"Not yet, princess. You know what I want, princess. Tell me." He purred, licking his fingers clean. You knew what he wanted, you still refused.

He laughed. "You're really gonna make me do this, aren't you?"

You were so confused. You didn't know what he meant. "You're gonna make me show you just how bad you need this."

He got up from the bed and walked over to the closet. He opened the doors and reached inside, pulling out a bag.

"What is that?" you asked, nervously.

He turned and looked at you. He opened the bag and pulled out a long, thin, pink vibrator. Your eyes went wide, you began to tremble. You were terrified. He was going to use that on you.

He held the vibrator up to your face and pressed a button, making it hum. You shook your head at him, "Steve No!"

He walked back over to you and crouched down in front of you. He ran his hand down your thigh, before spreading your legs, "Such a pretty pussy, princess." he murmured, tracing a finger along your folds.

He put the vibrator between your legs, pressing it against your clit.

"Fuck! Don't!" you moaned, trying to get away. He grabbed your hair and pulled you closer to him. "Oh, princess, you're gonna cum on this. Then, you're gonna cum on my cock. And, after that, you're gonna beg me for more."

You let out a sob as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel yourself getting close again. "Please, Steve."

He pressed the vibrator against your clit harder, making you moan. You didn't want him touching you there, but you couldn't stop the pleasure. "Tell me what you want, Y/N"

"Steve, I can't. I don't want it, I can't, please"

"But, you do, princess. You're already wet for me. You want this."

You shook your head, trying to get away from the vibrator. He held onto your hips, keeping you still. He leaned forward and licked your nipple. He sucked your nipple, making you arch your back.

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator, causing your hips to buck. He let go of your nipple and moved the vibrator lower, rubbing it against your entrance.

"Fuck! Stop, Steve. I-I can't. It's too much!"

"Oh, baby, this is nothing. Just wait until I start fucking you."

You were getting closer, the pleasure almost unbearable. "Steve, please. Stop. Please. I can't. I'm gonna-"

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator. "Say it. Or I'll make this last even longer. I'll keep you here all night, and the whole time, I'll be inside you."

You moaned and closed your eyes. "Please… Steve…”

He chuckled. "I like hearing you beg, princess." He turned the vibrator off and moved it back up to your clit. He slowly pushed it into your tight cunt.

"I can't…."

He smirked, "Oh, baby, we've just gotten started."

He turned the vibrator on and fucked you with it. You arched your back and moaned. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up. You let out a whimper as he kissed you, hard. He pulled away and licked your neck. "You're such a slut for me, princess. You will love it when I fuck you."

You shook your head, trying to get him to stop. "Please, Steve. Stop."

He ignored you, thrusting the vibrator deeper inside you.

You were about to cum when he suddenly pulled the vibrator out. "Steve, please, I need-"

Everytime you were close to cum, he would turn the vibrator off, making you frustrated and horny. "I can do this all day, princess."

You couldn't take it anymore, "Please Steve! Please let me cum, I can't take it anymore, please" You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. You really needed to cum so bad, he was edging you so hard.

You hated yourself for begging him. He kept the vibrator pressed against your clit, and with his other hand, he began fucking you with his fingers again.

He grinned, "What's the magic word?"

"Please…."

"Wrong answer, princess." He chuckled and stood up. He turned the vibrator on and started walking towards you. He held the vibrator against your clit and rubbed it in slow circles. "Now, be a good girl and spread your legs."

You took a deep breath and slowly spread your legs, revealing your dripping cunt. “Good girl.”

"Yes, oh god, Steve, please." You were moaning and panting, trying to hold off your orgasm, but he was making it impossible. "I can't hold back much longer, Steve, I'm so close. Please don’t stop." You were moaning, you didn’t care for anything, you needed to cum.

But the moment you were about to cum, Steve stopped again, and removed the vibrator.

"Steve! No! Fuck!" You screamed, tears pricking your eyes. "What the fuck! Let me cum!"

He laughed, "So desperate. How long has it been since someone touched you like this? I can tell by your reactions that it's been a while." He turned on the vibrator again, “You will cum on my cock, now beg me to fuck you."

You were shaking, crying, "Fuck you, Steve. I'm not doing that."

He laughed, "Oh, I think you will. You're so desperate, Y/N, so close to the edge. You'll do anything to cum." He slowly undid his pants and stroking his cock in front of you.

Your eyes widened as you stared at his length, you didn't think it was possible for a man to have such a huge cock. But, the sight of him stroking his cock was making you even wetter, and you couldn't help but want him to fuck you.

"Tell me you want me, tell me how much you want my cock."

"Steve, no. Please." You tried to close your legs, but he put the vibrator between them, spreading your lips and pushing the vibrator inside.

"If you don't, I'll just leave you here. Alone. Unsatisfied."

You were quiet, you shouldn’t want him, you should hold a little longer but he was being so good to you. It had been long since a guy made you felt like this.

"Come on, princess. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me how much you want me inside you. Tell me how bad you want my cock." He grinned as he kissed your clit, “I’ll give you as many orgasms as you want. I’ll fuck you better than any guy you know. I’ll make sure you will never be more satisfied than being with me again."

His words sent it toward your clit, you clenched your pussy hearing him said that. You were frustrated, sobbing, you needed release, and you didn't care about anything. You were going to beg.

You caved in, "Fine! Fuck me, Steve. Please fuck me. I need your cock, please!"

He leaned forward and kissed you. He bit down on your bottom lip, and you gasped. He chuckled, "I bet you'd let me do anything right now, wouldn't you, princess?"

He turned the vibrator back on and started fucking you with it. You were crying and moaning, begging him to let you cum. You could feel your orgasm approaching, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "Fuck, please, Steve, fuck. I'm so close, I'm gonna cum. Fuck."

"Cum for me, princess.”

You came screaming, your whole body convulsing. You were shaking and sweating, your body aching from the pleasure.

He turned off the vibrator and pulled it out of you. He kissed your cheek, "Such a good girl. I'm so proud of you, princess."

You were panting, trying to catch your breath. "I hate you."

"You don't mean that, baby. You're just a little overwhelmed. It's okay."

You looked at him, his eyes were soft and gentle, but you knew he was crazy. You were still tied up, helpless, and completely at his mercy. He was going to use his large cock to fuck you, and you couldn't do anything to stop him.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll take care of you. I promise."

He started to untie you and you were confused. Was he letting you go? You tried to scramble to ran away from him but you didn’t get far, he wrapped his arms on your waist lifting you. “Steve! Put me down now!”

He ignored you and brought you back to the bed. He put you down and pinned you, using his body weight to keep you still. "Don't think this changes anything."

He kissed you, hard and hungry. You tried to push him away but it was useless, he was too strong. "Fuck, baby, you taste so good." He kissed down your neck, biting and sucking as he went. He stopped at your breast, taking one nipple in his mouth and the other in his hand.

"Steve, please..."

"You want me to stop, Y/N?"

"Yes!"

"Well, that's too bad. Because I'm not stopping until I'm finished with you. And you're gonna love every minute of it. You're my girl, Y/N. I'm never letting you go.”

"No, please...don't...stop...don't hurt me, Steve."

He smirked, "I'm not going to hurt you, baby. I'm going to make you feel good."

He let go of your wrists and reached down between your legs. You gasped as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. "God, you're so wet. So wet and ready for me."

"Stop..."

"No. I'm not stopping, princess. You're going to come for me, just like you did with the vibrator. And then, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you all night long."

You tried to wiggle away from him, but it was no use. He was too strong. You tried to kick him, “Princess.” He warned, you stopped your movement, his tone made you scared.

He then smiled, “Good girl.”

You were trapped, at his mercy. He was going to hurt you, he was going to fuck you, and there was nothing you could do about it. You were his.

He slipped a finger inside of you, moving it in and out slowly. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're gonna feel so good on my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you even more. He kept pumping them in and out of you, making sure to hit your g-spot every time. You could feel another orgasm building.

"Oh God...oh fuck, Steve...please..."

"Please what, baby? Do you want me to stop?"

"No...don't stop...fuck, Steve..."

"Tell me, Y/N. Tell me what you want."

"I want...I want you to fuck me."

"You're such a dirty girl, Y/N. You're gonna come for me, aren't you?"

"Yes...oh God, Steve...yes...I'm gonna cum." He fucked you faster, harder, his fingers pounding into you. You couldn't hold back anymore, you threw your head back and screamed his name as you came, your whole body shaking with pleasure.

"Fuck, that's it, baby. You’re so beautiful, princess.” He didn't stop, he kept fucking you, his fingers buried deep inside you. You couldn't believe how good it felt, you had never been fucked like this before.

He kept rubbing your clit, prolonging your orgasm. You were panting and moaning, trying to catch your breath. "That's it, princess. That's it. Just like that."

He moved down and spread your legs wide open. "Fuck, baby. You're so fucking wet."

He licked your slit, tasting your juices. You moaned as he lapped at your folds, sucking and licking like his life depended on it.

He pulled back and looked up at you, "You taste so fucking good, baby. I could eat you all day long."

"Oh, god...please, Steve..."

"Please, what, princess? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes..."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please, fuck me, Steve."

"Fuck, I love when you beg, princess."

His cock was rock hard, the tip leaking precum. He grabbed the base and stroked it a few times before positioning himself between your legs. He lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the tip through your folds, coating it in your wetness. "Fuck... Steve… It's not going to fit."

"It'll fit, princess. I promise." He slowly pushing inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. It hurt, but the feeling of him stretching you was incredible. He was so big and you felt so full. "God, you're so tight, Y/N. So wet. Do you like my cock, baby? Do you like the way it feels?"

"Oh god, Steve. So full." You moaned.

He started moving, thrusting into you. The pace was slow and steady, letting you get used to his size. "God, you feel so fucking good, princess. So fucking good."

It hurt at first, but the pain soon turned to pleasure. You were moaning, begging him for more. "Steve...faster..."

He grinned, "You want it faster, baby? You want me to fuck you faster?"

"Yes...please...faster..."

He quickened his pace, pounding into you. He grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Fuck, yes, Steve!"

"That's it, baby. Scream my name. Scream my name as I fuck you."

"Oh, god...yes...please, Steve... harder!"

He groaned and started slamming into you, fucking you hard and fast. "Fuck, baby. You're such a slut, begging me to fuck you harder."

You were lost in pleasure, moaning and screaming his name. "That's it, baby. Tell me how good it feels, princess. Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

"So good, Steve...it feels so good...I love you fucking me, Steve."

"Yeah, you do, don't you? You love being fucked by me huh?" He growled and pounded into you, harder and faster.

"I love it...please, Steve, more..." He felt so good inside you, you should've hating him, but all you wanted was more. You shouldn’t want him but fuck no one ever fucked you this good. "Yes, Steve, oh god, yes. Please fuck me."

"Yeah, baby, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you hard. I'll fuck you until you can't walk." He began thrusting his hips, fucking you hard and fast. He sped up his thrusts, slamming into you harder and deeper. You were lost in the pleasure, not caring about anything else. All that mattered was him and how good he made you feel.

You were so close, you could feel your orgasm building. "Steve...I'm gonna come."

"Yeah? You gonna come, baby? You gonna come on my cock?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, you are. You're gonna come all over my cock. You're gonna come for me, baby. Come on, princess. Come for me." He then went to sucked your neck and then bit it, hard. "Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself come. Rub that fucking clit while I fuck you."

You obeyed, reaching down and rubbing your clit. It only took a few seconds before you were coming, screaming his name and digging your nails into his back.

"Fuck, yes, princess. That's it. Come for me."

You were coming down from your high and he was still pounding into you

You moaned and came, your body shaking with pleasure.

He didn't stop, he kept fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it. You were so oversensitive and it was almost too much, but you didn't want him to stop.

He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up. "Oh, God, yes, Steve!" He slammed back into you, his pace relentless. "You like that, princess? You like me fucking you?"

"Yes! Oh, God, yes! Don't stop!"

He reached around and rubbed your clit, making you moan even louder. "Come for me, princess. Come for me again. I want to hear you scream."

You were close, you could feel your orgasm building again. He pinched your clit and that was it. You came, screaming his name. He continued to fuck you, not slowing down at all.

"God, I love it when you scream, princess. Keep screaming for me."

You were barely coming down from your orgasm and he was already pushing you towards another one. You couldn't take it, it was too much. You were oversensitive and it was almost too much. He leaned forward and kissed your neck, whispering in your ear, "That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all."

"Steve, please...it's too much...it's too much..."

"Shh, princess. I know. I know. But you can take it. You can take it, can't you, baby?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, I know. I know you can. You're my good girl, aren't you?" He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back. "Now, say it. Say you're my good girl."

"I'm your good girl."

"Fucking right you are." He said and went to fondled your breast while he pounded into you, his pace unforgiving. His trusts became erratic, you knew he was close.

Then you remember, he didn't wear a condom and you weren’t on birth control. "Please pull out! Don't come inside of me, please! I’m not on birth control!”

He stopped, but didn't pull out. "You're kidding, right? What's the point in fucking you if I don't come inside of that tight pussy of yours? I'm gonna fill you up, make you mine."

You started to panic. "Please, you'll get me pregnant. Please don't come inside of me."

"No, you're mine now. And I'm gonna breed you, just like you deserve. You're going to give me what I want and you're going to take it."

"Please, don't come inside of me." Your breath came in gasps, you couldn't hold back your moans anymore, even though you were crying. You tried to push him off, but he didn't let you, didn't stop fucking you.

"Please, please don't. I'll do anything you want. Please just pull out, I'll let you fuck me every morning. I'll be your good girl, please just not inside." You were sobbing now, but your cunt was dripping.

“Your body says otherwise, princess.” He picked up his pace again. Fuck, you like this, don't you? You're so wet. You want to have my babies, don't you? Fuck, yeah, you're a good girl, begging for my cum."

He felt you trying to pull away and he slapped your ass, hard. "You're not going anywhere, princess. You're going to stay here and take my cock. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you." He moaned, his thrusts were becoming more desperate, his hand left your waist and moved to your clit, rubbing hard.

You whimpered and he slapped your ass again. "Don't fight me, princess. Just let go and enjoy it. You're already mine, and now you're going to have my baby. We're going to have a family, Y/N. You're not leaving me."

You gave up, your body submitting to him. He was in complete control and there was nothing you could do. He kept fucking you, going even faster and harder. "There you go, baby. That's it. Let me take care of you."

Your pussy started to contract and you screamed, a wave of pleasure rolling through you. "Yeah, fuck. I knew you'd like this. Fuck, you're squeezing me, that's it. Take it, take it all, be a good girl and take it."

He moaned and pumped into you harder, until his hips stuttered and his cock pulsed.

"Ahhhh!" You cried as he spilled his seed inside of you, filling your insides. He groaned at the feeling of you, warm and wet, squeezing around him. He let go of your wrists and wrapped both his arms around your waist.

When he was finished, he stayed inside of you, breathing heavily. "Fuck, that was great. Best sex I ever had."

When he pulled out, you felt his come dripping down your leg. "We can't waste this, can we?" He thrusted his finger into you, gathering his come. You were still shaking, not able to comprehend what just happened.

He shoved his finger into your mouth. "You'll be a good girl, won't you? Now clean my fingers.”

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, you were too exhausted to do anything, just opened your mouth and let him shove his fingers down your throat.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you and the baby." He whispered. "You'll be the perfect mom."

"Oh, no. We're not done yet." He grabbed your face with his clean hand, and pulled you into a kiss. He pushed his tongue inside of your mouth, tasting his cum. "You're such a good girl. Now, I'll give you a reward."

He got down on his knees and pushed your legs apart, then leaned forward, licking your clit. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive skin, but quickly bit your lip, trying to keep quiet.

He looked up at you. "Don't worry, honey. I love the sounds you make. So sweet. Keep making those noises for me." He moved his tongue over your clit, slowly, teasing.

He licked and sucked at your clit, while you moaned, the sensation almost too much. "I know you're sore, honey. But I wanna hear you come on my tongue. Be a good girl and come for me, can you do that?"

"Yes."

He continued sucking your clit, and moved his hand down to your pussy, pushing his fingers inside. He moved his fingers in and out of your pussy, slowly, but it was still too much.

"Please, Steve, make me come."

"That's my good girl." He moved his fingers faster, sucking harder, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your moans were louder, your whole body felt hot.

"Steve, oh god, oh god, I'm coming."

You felt him smile against your clit, his tongue moving faster, sucking and licking. Your moans became screams, your legs were shaking, you felt the pressure building in your belly, your whole body shaking. You came hard, squirting on his face.

"You taste so sweet." He got up from his knees, his cock hard again, and pressed it against your pussy.

"Please, not again. It's too much. I-I'm too tired. I can't...I don't have any more energy."

"I can give you energy, princess" He pushed into you, and you screamed, the feeling too intense. He pulled out and then slammed back into you, setting a brutal pace. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and moved his hips in a circular motion, the pressure in your belly building again.

You sighed, you didn't have any energy left. Steve had been non-stop ever since the day he took you, he didn't give you a single moment to rest. You were always filled with his cum. "You'll enjoy it, princess. You always do."

He started to thrust up into you, and you felt your orgasm building. "Oh, God, Steve!"

"That's it, baby, scream my name."

"Steve! Oh, God, Steve!"

You came, clenching around his cock. He groaned, and you felt him spill inside you, his hot cum filling you up. "Fuck, baby, you're so good."

He kissed you, and you could feel him getting hard inside of you again. "No, Steve, please. I can't..."

"Yes, you can, princess. I know you can."

He started to move again, and you knew you were in for a long night.

You couldn't help but moan, you could feel his thick length filling you up. His cum was still inside of you and it was a warm feeling. You were so tired and he could tell, "One more time, princess, and I'll let you sleep."

He was so big, and he hit all the right spots. You couldn't help but moan, it felt so good.

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his cum, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You moaned as he thrust deeper into you. He was so big and it felt so good. You were lost in the pleasure, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered was him and the way he made you feel.

"Say you want me to come inside of you."

"I want you to come inside of me, Steve."

“Beg me.”

“Please, Steve. I want your cum. Please fill me up.”

"Good girl." He kept his rhythm, the feeling of his cock inside of you was too much, but it was so good.

"Come for me, be a good girl and come for me."

Your body was shaking, you felt his cock throb and fill you up again, and then you were coming, your legs trembling, your moans loud.

"Fuck, yeah. You're such a good girl, so sweet, coming for me. So tight, fuck. Such a good girl."

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you. He held himself above you, watching your face, while he fucked you. His cock was still inside of you, twitching, the feeling so intense.

"And don't you forget it. You're mine, and no one else is gonna fuck you. Cause you're mine, and I'm gonna keep you pregnant, giving me all the babies I want."

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his mark and seed, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You didn't have a choice, he wouldn't let you go. He'd fuck you every day, until he had knocked you up. You didn't even want a baby, and he didn't care. He'd do whatever he wanted. You had no choice but to obey him. But he made you feel so good and gentle with you, you couldn't help but enjoy it.

You had given up, the police weren't going to find you. No one was. You were his prisoner, his plaything. And he was going to keep you forever.

But, in a twisted way, you didn't mind. Because he was always there for you, taking care of you, fucking you, loving you. You had never felt this way about anyone before. And deep down, you knew you were falling in love with him.

"I love you, Y/N. And I'm gonna take care of you, and our baby. Forever."

"I love you, too, Steve."

FIN

A/N : So what do you guys think? Let me know in the comments, I want to know about your thoughts!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #the winter soldier #captain america #steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers #marvel x reader #steve rogers #dark fic #stockholm syndrome #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 days ago

Text

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy.

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now.

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it.

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out.

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work.

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices.

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction.

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head.

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad...

“You work?” You ask.

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?”

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money.

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.”

“Right,” you try not to seethe.

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky.

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell?

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch.

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again.

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes.

“I’m getting ready--”

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet.

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.”

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says.

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round.

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner.

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides.

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls.

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.”

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists.

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil.

“Boring,” she chirps.

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies.

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think.

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read.

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume.

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered.

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own.

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence.

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying.

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna.

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up.

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth.

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.;

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first.

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so.

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell.

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.”

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out.

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.”

“But I need a keyboard.”

You ignore them and keep going.

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!”

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner.

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks.

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time.

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out.

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible?

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens.

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again?

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her.

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.”

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?”

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.

“Is it mom?” You whisper.

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.”

You make a face. What?

“Who...”

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion.

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.”

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening.

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks.

You glance at him again. You’re lost.

“Do I know you?” You grimace.

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--”

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--”

“Outside. Privately,” he says.

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book.

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.”

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be...

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head.

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers.

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #captain's orders #captain america #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #avengers

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huffelpuff210 · 9 months ago

Text

Ours Soft Dark Stucky x Omega Reader

Soft Dark Alpha Stucky x Omega Reader

Warning: Stalking, kidnapping, drugging, confinement, dark themes, Non Con, man handling, threats, mentions of past abuse,

Summary: Day by Day Both Bucky and Steve feel like something is missing in their lives that is until they meet you.

You work as a RN at the nearby hospital, you were just leaving an agonizing fourteen hour shift, dead tired,

You were walking past a store, where there were TV’s you could watch from outside of the window,

The news was on,

“This is Becky reporting from Stark tower where in a few minutes Alpha Tony Stark is going to make his big announcement.” The news lady says,

You stand there with your arms crossed, a lot of people on the street were crowding around as well,

The Alpha’s in Stark tower are a big deal to everyone so when they make an announcement it’s normally a big uproar

Tony walks out to the stage,

“Good afternoon everyone, as everyone may have been aware, the decrease in Omega’s in the past decade have declined drastically.” He says

It was no secret that Omega’s appear less and less each year, in fact you read in the paper that there is 1 out of 5% that anyone would come across one, You were in fact one, but you take suppressants and wear a special perfume to mask the smell,

“So as of today, I have signed a bill passing that if you are an Omega you must register, due to the decrease in our species this law is in effect as of today.” Tony says

You eyes widen,

“We also have a stations in each clinic to ensure you can find a place to register.” He says

This made your blood boil, You didn’t like Alpha’s to begin with, Your father and brother’s made sure of that, always talking down to you like you were nothing compared to them, abusing you any chance they got, telling you, that you were nothing but a tool a mutt that your only purpose in life was to breed,

And here is another example of how much you hate and yet fear alpha’s they think they can control Omega’s,

“If any Omega’s fail to comply we will have no choice but to place you in a special program.” Tony says

“That will be all thank you.” He says walking off stage,

You shake your head and make your way to your apartment, but you couldn’t help this feeling that someone was watching you, You stop in your tracks, to look around listening, smelling, but there were too many scents, you brush it off as fatigue and paranoia.

You finally enter your apartment, it wasn’t much given the salary to make, barely scraping by, but it was the only way, the only way to avoid detection not just from Alpha’s but your family that has been on the hunt for you since you ran away when you were sixteen, you are now twenty one, but they still continue to hunt you like an animal,

All because you are an Omega,

After taking your suppressant and showering, you are laying in bed when a smell catches your attention, It smelled like pine, and cinnamon, you sit up quickly, it wasn’t your father or brother’s but you don’t notice the smell which causes you to panic,

You peek through the curtains not seeing a single person, you make sure everything is locked,

You peek out the peep hole at your door, no one,

You feel your heart rate slow down hoping you were just imagining it,

Bucky just couldn’t believe his luck, he was on his way to the tower, when a smell caught his attention, sure it was very faint but his sense of smell is stronger than most Alpha’s it smelled like vanilla with a hint of cedar

“Omega...” He whispers

He finds a small petite woman, with long dark hair and green eyes, she was beautiful, but by the smell she’s definitely on something she shouldn’t be on,

He opens his phone to call Steve as he follows her from a distance,

“Steve, Your not going to believe what I found.” He says with a smirk on his lips,

You didn’t go to work for a few days, you were getting paranoid, the smell kept getting stronger as if someone was in your apartment or on the fire escape at the window,

But your boss called you today, telling you if you didn’t come in today you were fired,

So you cautiously leave your apartment, just as you were locking the door an arm wrapped around your neck, with a hand covering your mouth,

You elbow the attacker causing him to grunt, but he didn’t loosen his grip,

“Shhh, sweetheart, we’re here now.” You hear a man’s voice whisper in your ear,

suddenly there was a jab of a needle in your upper arm, you watch as the liquid is injected in your arm,

“Everything will be alright.” Another voice says

you feel your limbs give way, and your vision blur slowly slipping into darkness,

Bucky catches you as you fall, picking you up bridal style, your head against his chest,

Steve moves your dark hair out of your face,

“She’s beautiful.” Steve says

“Told you.” Bucky says

“She’s light though.” Bucky says again,

“It’s alright she has us now.” Steve says placing his hand on Bucky’s shoulder,

Bucky nods, as they both smile down at you

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lokiswifeduh · 9 months ago

Text

Don't leave me

Pairings- Mob!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary- The aftermath of the shootout was here. And Bucky has to come to terms with the results of the life he introduced you to, and what revenge he would ensue.

notes- this is a part two to Doll, please. I hope you guys enjoy the ending!! Please let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading loves!!

Warnings- angst, talk of guns, drugs, kidnapping, abuse, torture. major gore. sad Bucky, hurt reader, hurt/comfort, gunshot wounds, medical talk, revenge.

WC- 3k

catch up here (part one)

masterlist

"Doll, please."

I saw her look up at me with those doe eyes. Those big beautiful eyes painfully gazing into mine. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to turn her away from the bullets that were sure to fly our way, but I couldn't move my hands. In this moment I couldn't protect her.

I felt the sob rip from her throat. There were only ten seconds left.

"I vowed to stand by your side, Buck." She looked back to the ten guns pointed in mine and her direction. I could see a stray tear slip down her cheek as her hands shook, her nails digging into her palm as she tried her hardest to release my wrists from the painful wire digging into them.

Suddenly she dropped the knife, jumping into my lap. Her hands wrapped around my neck as her legs surrounded the back of the chair, encasing my upper body. "NO! Doll, please!!" I felt her hit the knife in my thigh with hers, but I ignored the pain focusing on what in the world she thought she was doing.

The men cocked their guns. But in that moment all I could think about was how to get her off of me. I needed her to run, to fight back to do something. Not to protect my body with hers. I couldn't let her.

"Doll!! Stop!! Get up!!" But my protests fell on deaf ears as she tucked my head into her chest, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck, not letting me move a muscle below her. She shook her head, my tears soaking her shirt, mixing with mine and her blood. "I won't let you die." She attempted to shout but at that moment her voice was the quietest I'd ever heard it.

I tried to whisper back when suddenly shots rang out through the warehouse. My head popped up, prepared to die with the love of my life. I wouldn't let her do it herself. I would not live without her. Not if I had a choice.

But in that split second, I realized the first bullets that went flying weren't from Rumlow's men, it was from Steve, Sam, and my men, shooting at the ones who threatened us.

"Doll, we're gonna be oka-" But my words were cut short as two bullets flew into her. She screamed. Her vocal cords grinding together in the most painful way I'd ever heard. I felt my heart rip in two as her body shook against mine, arching her back as if that would stop the pain.

But she kept her head down, arms shaking yet still holding onto me. I would have cut my hands off if I had the strength to rip through the restraints. A sob tore from my throat, "Don't do this to me."

She finally lifted her head, my beautiful wife looking at me with such care and tenderness. As if she hadn't just been shot twice, and wasn't using all of her strength to hold onto me for dear life.

A small drop of blood trickled down the side of her mouth as her teeth were painted red. "I love you, James Barnes." She cupped my face in her hands, tucking me back into her chest as her grip seemed to loosen, "Till forever and always."

The words we both said to each other on our wedding day. "Doll, please." Her hold on me finally failed as she fell, but thankfully into the arms of Steve, before her head would've slammed into the concrete.

My second in command looked at both of us. Tortured and bloody. I held in my tears as I looked at Sam, leading a pair of medics through the door.

"Rumlow will pay." The wire from my wrists was snapped in half thanks to Peter, a new, very terrified recruit. I shot down immediately onto my knees, holding her head in my hands as the paramedics loaded my wife onto the stretcher. "Don't leave me."

I made eye contact with Steve, "I will have him and that traitor's head."

_________________

You lay in the hospital bed, your whole body practically wrapped in soft white bandages.

You could feel the pressure of something on your thigh as you tried to open your eyes. It wasn't working. Why couldn't you just open them?!

Try something else, you thought.

You moved your hands, the feeling of someone else's palm in yours made your heart start to race. You could remember little parts over the last three days.

Bucky was kidnapped.

Steve was put in charge.

You were kidnapped.

Natasha was working with Rumlow.

The torture.

The pain.

Your husband's face as you used yourself as a human shield.

Being shot.

Suddenly you heard screaming and saw bright lights. A heart monitor was beeping louder and faster at each passing second.

Realizing the screaming was in fact your own, you started to breathe harder. You finally could open your eyes!

Your surroundings were blurry at first. There was a familiar figure in front of you. Sounds were muffled but began to come back into focus.

"Doll?! Sweetheart, you're okay."

You shook your head, looking around in panic before realizing you were in fact back at home, in your bed. Bucky beside you. Your husband, holding your face in his hands.

"B-Bucky?" Your voice was raspy and your throat felt like sandpaper, rubbing together from underuse.

Involuntarily you started to cough, holding a hand up to your throat which only caused more pain in your back to bloom. "Ah," You groaned, swallowing before resting your head back on the pillow.

You felt Bucky's hands leave your body, but only for a second as he held a straw to your lips. "It's just water doll. I need you to drink this for me." You nodded, feeling a pounding in your head as you sucked down the refreshing liquid. The coolness soothing your throat like rain in the desert.

"Good girl." Bucky gave you a soft smile, taking the straw away from your mouth as you finished the water.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you regained your vision, looking around.

Monitors, medical equipment, and an abundance of flowers and cards filled your and Bucky's bedroom. Light shone through the window as you squinted, shooting over to look at Bucky who just gazed down at you worryingly.

You looked him over, seeing the cuts and bruises that adorned his face. His lip was split in multiple places. His thigh was wrapped in gauze and his wrists were bandaged. Looking down, so were yours. Actually, it seemed your entire body was.

"Are yo-," You swallowed, "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a moment before letting out a laugh. "You're asking me if I'm okay, doll?" You nodded, confused.

"Sweetheart you're the one who's been unconscious for three weeks and has two bullet wounds."

You twisted your hips a little, feeling the agonizing, shooting pain of the very real bullet wounds. Groaning, you whispered, "So that definitely happened, good to know."

Bucky ran his hand down the side of your face, sitting in the chair that was placed beside your shared bed. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, doll." You gulped, "I- I couldn't let you die, James."

Bucky closed his eyes, laying his head down on your thigh as he gripped your hand in his. "I would've rather die than see you in this state, sweetheart."

You lifted your other hand, running it through his untamed hair. "Don't say that, Buck." But his head lifted, making you notice his bloodshot eyes and the way tears streamed down his face in harsh lines. "I won't live without you, doll." He shook his head, a tear dripping onto the hospital blanket "I would rather die a thousand times over and over in the same painful way than see you in such agony, my love."

You held back tears, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breath. "I couldn't- no. I wouldn't let you die like that, Buck." You looked at him once again, "Not at the hands of Rumlow. Not because of me." "This wasn't because of you, doll-" "But it was!" You shouted, making you cough slightly, not used to using your voice for this long yet. "Rumlow took you because he wanted to hurt us- because he wanted me." You cupped Bucky's jaw in your hand, "Because I chose you." Bucky gulped, "I've never been so scared." You softly laughed, thinking of all the shootouts, drug deals, and interrogations Bucky went through on a day-to-day basis.

But he shook his head, hearing your chuckle. "Seeing him hurt you and torture you the way he did." Bucky's eyes went dark, "I've never wanted to hurt someone so bad just to ensure you made it out of there safely." You tried to speak up but Bucky kept going. "And look at you now. You're laying here, with two gunshot wounds, fingernails ripped apart, and a busted-up face."

Tilting your head, you looked at the mirror that stood in front of your and Bucky's bed; genuinely taking in your appearance. You in fact did have a busted-in face. Your lip was split. Your eyebrow was stitched as well as your nose. You had bruises covering every inch of your skin and your hair was in the worst shape you had ever seen.

Gulping, you looked away from the mirror, making Bucky take your chin in his hands, guiding you to look him in the eyes. "But you're still the prettiest doll I've ever seen." He moved, bringing his lips to yours in a soft yet long-awaited kiss. "My best girl."

It hurt to smile but you did, bringing your hand to his face, gently rubbing over the matching bruises that mirrored yours. "I love you, James."

"I love you, doll."

________________________

The next few days were agonizing.

You could finally stand up on the third day. But not without terrible pain shooting in every nerve ending of your body.

Bucky helped you with everything. From showering to cleaning your wounds. He was quite the nurse when it came to you.

But unfortunately about a week after you woke up, the violence hadn't ended. There were still some loose ends to tie up.

Slowly walking down the stairs and into one of the main rooms, everyone's attention went to your hobbling frame. "Doll?" Bucky sped over, Steve immediately pulling up a chair so you could take a seat.

As you sat down you noticed a large bruise on Steve's jaw. You knew Bucky would eventually be mad at him for not properly making sure you stayed out of the mess and violence of it all. But you were hoping it would've been a stern lecture, not a punch.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Bucky whispered. The room stayed completely silent as Steve, Sam, and the rest of Bucky's men kept their backs turned, giving you two some privacy.

"I know you're planning to retaliate against, Rumlow."

Bucky nodded, taking your face in his hands as you fidgeted with the string of your sweatpants. Well, Bucky's sweatpants.

"I don't want you involved again, doll." He glanced back at Steve for a moment, "Not after what happened."

You shook your head, "I need him to pay for this, Buck." Your body shook with anger, "I want his fucking blood." Bucky was slightly startled, never seeing this much hatred in your eyes. You were always his sweet wife. You made the men cookies, and you organized charity events for the homeless shelter down the street.

Sure, you knew how to use a gun and fight if you had to. But seeing this much agonizing resentment on your face, scared him. But he knew you wouldn't let it go. He sure as hell wasn't.

So he let you know the plan, and what was going down.

______________

"Steve? We good?" Bucky touched the earpiece, hearing an affirmative. The mob had infiltrated Rumlow's mansion only one week later, killing every single man who stood in their way. Shoot on site. Was your husband's order as you and he waited to enter the mansion, making sure only Rumlow and Natasha were left.

Two of Bucky's men opened the doors to the mansion. The sight of the place made you cringe slightly. Soldiers were dead on the ground everywhere. Blood painted the floors and staircases like a stain.

"Top floor, back left bedroom."

You heard Steve's voice echo through the earpiece as you and Bucky made your way up.

His hand never left the small of your back, making sure you were covered at all angles with men following behind and in front of you, rifles pinned for every aspect of an attack.

"You alright, doll?" Bucky whispered, his hand on the door that would lead you to Rumlow. You nodded, ignoring the dull pain in your back. "I need this to be over with." Your husband kissed the crown of your head, nodding to his men as they busted down the door, guns held high.

But the sight in front of you made you smile.

Rumlow was beaten down, cowering in the corner of the room as Natasha stood in the corner, you could see the fear in her eyes. The same fear she caused you as she ripped your fingernails to pieces.

"Brock Rumlow," Bucky spoke in a deep voice, pulling on a pair of black gloves, before handing you a matching pair.

You slipped them on, hand placed on the knife that was strapped onto your thigh, just above the black jeans you had on.

Steve and Sam patted Bucky on the back, looking toward you with respect. "Have fun, you two." The blonde spoke, before exiting and closing the doors behind them.

"P-please, Barnes." Rumlow pleaded, "Have mercy."

Bucky was about to laugh before Natasha beat him to it. "Oh, please. You two really think he was the mastermind behind all this?" You looked over at the redhead in the corner, your former friend.

"If he's not, does that mean you are?" Your voice carried through the room, a newfound confidence making you raise your head high.

Natasha grinned, "And here I thought you never would've survived." You tilted your head, "Two bullet shots and I'm walking four weeks later." You pulled the gun from your other holster, "I can't say the same for you after this." You pointed it right at her forehead.

"Come here," Bucky moved forward, knowing you had Natasha pinned with the intent to shoot; dragging Rumlow up as two of his men held him on his knees.

"Nat, please. Do something." Rumlow begged, making you let out a laugh under your breath. "Do you think she's really in the position to?" You saw her move forward slightly, making you cock your gun, "One more step and I blow your fucking brains all over these white sheets."

Bucky grinned, loving this color on you.

"You really thought you could take my girl from me?" Your husband kneels in front of Brock, pulling out a knife from his belt. "What did you call her after breaking her nose? Oh, that's right, a 'lovely specimen."

Bucky's smirk dropped, nodding at the two men holding Brock down as they forced his mouth open. Brock shouted and yelled as Bucky gripped the end of his tongue, pulling it from his mouth and slicing it clean off from the base with his knife.

Brock wailed and cried as another soldier brought over a jar filled with a yellow liquid, opening the top so Bucky could drop the tongue in. He closed the lid, holding it up high as he watched Brock's mouth fill with blood. "What a lovely specimen."

"You two are fucking sick." Natasha, sneered, making you grip the knife from your own holster, throwing it and landing it right in her hand that was held in the air. She screamed, falling to the ground and back up until her back hit the wall.

You kneeled down, gun still pointed in her face, "Talk again and next time your tongue will join his in the jar." Your former friend gulped, nodding as you smirked.

Bucky gripped the front of Brock's shirt, making his back touch Bucky's chest as he held a knife to his throat. "Anything you wanna say before I kill you in front of your girlfriend, Rumlow?"

You laughed, slightly, making Bucky huff in humor. "Oh, that's right. You can't" He whispered the last part before slicing a clean and deep cut across his neck, blood pouring out as he collapsed to the ground, whimpering and sputtering in pain as he bled out, his eyes on you in fear as he eventually stopped moving.

Natasha looked back at you, still clutching her bleeding hand into her chest. You kneeled down, "Why, Natasha?" She shook with terror, hardly being able to force the words out. "Why did he have to pick you?!"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "What?" Natasha scoffed, looking over at your husband, then back to you.

"Before you came along I thought he could love me. But then you showed up, taking all Bucky's attention. I never stood a fucking chance." You laughed, sighing before standing and walking over to Bucky, placing a hand on the back of his head before smashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. He groaned, biting your lip and making you moan into his mouth.

You chuckled, still holding the back of his head in your hand. You lifted your arm, perfect aim.

"No, Natasha. You never stood a fucking chance." One, two, then three shots rang out through the room as you planted two bullets in Natasha's head, and one in the chest.

Dropping the gun, you saw her body slump to the ground. Dead.

Bucky turned you away from the scene, bringing your face into his hands as both of you had unshed tears in your eyes. "It's over, doll."

You nodded, holding onto his hands as they held your face. "Can we go home, Buck?" He nodded, bringing your face into his chest as he walked you back through the house and into the car. "We're going home, doll. I'm never leaving you."

End

__________________

part one (read first)

masterlist

Taglist:

@yeahyeahyeah23-blog @rinniereads123 @shortnloud @julvrs @unaxv @sapphirebarnes

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sarahowritesostucky · 10 months ago

Text

Happy Little Family

📖"Taking Back What's His"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6170

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: You try one last, desperate ploy to escape, but it doesn't exactly work out. And James hasn't come alone. The next time you wake up, you're a long way from home.

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" pchelka = "little bee"

2. Taking Back What's His

(Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

He says something to you, after. Words that might as well be in his native Russian, for how well you take them in. But they're soft, and reassuring—he’s pleased. His body weight moves off the bed.

When you finally open your eyes and blink up at the ceiling, it’s the softest baby pink all around the edges, like smoke curling into your vision. It’s nice, peaceful. Feels good-all-over in that way that painkillers do. You haven’t experienced it since the last time you had sex with an alpha.

Which James unfortunately seems to have figured out was with him, almost two years ago.

“Oh, kotenok, You haven’t been fucking anybody.”

You’re still in the afterglow, mind muzzy, all of your previous panic and fear blunted near to the point of erasure with how nice it feels to float, when you hear James’ pleased chuckle from where he’s getting dressed. He comes back and leans over you. “Hey Sweetheart. Feeling good?”

You frown at him, though it takes a concerted effort to make any expression of displeasure. You want him to know you aren’t happy, that this state he’s fucked you into isn’t real. You want to slap that smug fucking look right off his face. All you manage to come up with is a pouty little “no" that makes James laugh.

“Come here.” He fixes your dress, then helps you up off the bed. He seems to be checking to make sure you’re steady on your feet before he lets you stand on your own. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He knows you too well, knows how intense it can be for you, how strongly you react to him. You avoid his knowing gaze. You’re not completely useless like this. You can still remember everything that’s going on, can still remember June. “Please,” you say again, trying to change the tone of your voice. “Let me give her to Hilde.”

James rolls his eyes. “Right, right. Your friend across the street.”

“Please James?” You look up at him, pink edges all around his face, so pretty. Goddamn him. “She’ll be safe there.”

Again, something passes through his eyes too quickly for you to identify. It might be annoyance. He sighs, and the look, whatever it was, is gone. “Sure thing, Doll. Babies need a lot of stuff. You might as well pack up what she needs.”

You nod tearfully, going to your closet to grab a bag. He follows close behind, sending a clear message that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sights while you do this. James isn’t stupid, you’ll give him that.

In the nursery, June is happy to see you and wants you to pick her up. You talk to her in a sweet, placating voice as you go around the room grabbing different things that she’ll need and stuffing them in the bag. At this point you know to be grateful for the haze. Even as it tapers off, it’s blunting the sorrow that you know would otherwise have you sobbing and your voice clogging with tears. This way at least, you’re able to keep June thinking everything is alright. This way she isn’t scared.

It’s when you’re crouched beside the changing table, stuffing diapers into the bag with James behind you that you get the idea: Downstairs: the kitchen: in the drawer. Your gun.

You stop moving long enough that James notices. “What’re you doing? Come on.”

You stand back up. Yes. You have to do it. This is the only chance you have at getting out of this and not losing June. You lick your lips nervously before turning back around to face him. “I … have to get her bottles and stuff from downstairs,” you say, hoping that the lingering post-coital haze is enough to keep your true intentions off your face. Your eyes flick up to James, who’s squinting at your tits.

“Bottle?” He starts to smirk, and you glare at him.

“Yes. Asshole. I won’t exactly be around to feed her, now will I?”

His face softens at that and he gives you an apologetic look. “Right. Well go on, then.”

You move for the hallway, realize he’s not following you, and turn back in confusion. He’s beside the crib, holding his hand out for June to touch. Your heart leaps from your spot in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m waiting right here until you come back upstairs,” he says, his message clear.

Your pulse picks up, but you force yourself to nod. You’re useless without that gun. You have to get to it. He narrows his eyes at you while June giggles and reaches for his wiggling fingers. “No games.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and turn and head for the stairs.

It’s pure torture to move at a casual speed, especially as your mind is clearing and the fearful emotions returning. In the downstairs hallway, you check once over your shoulder that James hasn’t followed you, then pick up your pace, hurrying into the kitchen and heading straight for the drawer where you keep the gun.

Your eyes tear up as you maneuver past the digital lock that you installed for nothing. June’s still crawling. She never even got old enough to toddle over here. You press the code into the keypad, cringing when it does its quiet little two-tone ‘beep’ at being unlocked. You wait, heart in your throat until you hear the mechanism moving, then rip open the drawer.

Your heart stops and your brain freezes and all you can think is: No. No, no no—

“Looking for this?”

You whirl around, and there he is: standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the sink as he holds your only weapon in his hands.

His face is relaxed, Goddamn him, as he pretends to ignore your horror and instead holds the gun up to flippantly inspect it. “I have to say, Doll, I’m impressed. I would’ve expected some puny girl gun. Ruger, Derringer. But this?” He turns the Skorpion in his hands, and chuckles softly when he sees the cartridge. “Jesus. You really wanted to blow a hole in somebody, didn’t you?” His eyes finally drag up to you, the hand he’s holding the gun with dropping down by his side as he starts walking over, slowly, step by step, eyes boring into you with a growing anger.

Oh shit. Dread curls in your gut but you’re frozen. Bolting now wouldn’t even get you to the staircase. He presses in close, pinning you against the countertop. He brings the gun up and nudges your jaw with it, leaning in and breathing in your face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it, vorishka?”[little thief]

He’s taunting you with your own failure, and you can’t stop the whimper that breaks from your throat at having your one and only plan foiled so pathetically easily. “James,” you plead, “I didn’t—”

“Shh sh sh. None of that, now.” He’s speaking softly, sweetly, but he’s furious. He drags his lips over your cheek and the barrel of the gun you stole from him over the other. “So what was the plan? How were you going to kill me with my own gun? Pop upstairs and shoot up the nursery?”

“N-no.”

“Ah. Right. You’re smarter than that. You would’ve waited for me to come down and see what the fuck was taking you so long, or put it in the duffle and waited until we dropped the whelp off at the neighbors. Is that it?"

You sniffle and nod, angry at him for being such an all-knowing asshole. “You can’t hold that against me,” you say, trying to defend yourself.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can’t blame you for that.” Your shoulders start to relax, that is until he pulls back to glare at you and holds the gun to you again, this time pointing it right underneath your chin. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “But do you know what I can hold against you, Little thief?” Your face pinches in fear, sure that you’re about to be shot, and he digs the muzzle cruelly into your skin, forcing you to look at him. “The fact that that pup up there is ten months old, and I’ve never even fucking seen her.”

Your eyes widen as you realize: he knows. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he beats you to it.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s mine?”

“James,”

“All this time!” he hisses, hurt lancing through his features. “You kept her from me! What gives you the right?”

“I—I didn’t—”

He growls and pushes away from you, several steps back, glaring. “Nothing, is the answer you’re looking for. You had no right to do that.”

You try to edge to the side, but freeze when he straightens his arm and points the gun right at you. “James, wait …”

He aims it at your face, but then lowers it for a center mass shot, which is what really convinces you you’re about to die. “Say goodbye, mamochka,” he says, with steely eyes and his finger curling over the trigger.

It’s a submachine gun that fires in three shot bursts, or fully automatic. Either way, you know you’re about to be riddled with bullets, so you start to hyperventilate. It’s an embarrassing reaction, but at least you have the dignity of knowing what your last words on this earth would’ve been. “Don’t hurt her,” you gasp.

His eyes fill with rage and he pulls the trigger.

… Nothing happens, but you’re bracing so hard that it takes you a full two or three seconds to realize it. Then, when you do realize it, and you see James standing there looking grim but completely unsurprised that you haven’t been shot, all of the breath rushes out of your lungs. You feel like you’re about to faint, which is apparently what he’s waiting for.

He ejects the empty magazine, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you?” He takes a step forward, but pauses when you flinch back. “What the hell have you convinced yourself that I am?”

You step back again when he moves. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, don’t,” he whispers, mocking you. “Don’t what? Don’t take back what’s mine? The mother of my pup? A pup I didn’t get to see grow or come into this world?” Your breath hitches with emotion and he doesn’t miss it, the bastard. ��Yeah,” he says darkly. “You robbed me of that. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry.” He leers up and down your body in its flimsy sundress. “I’ll be putting another one in you real soon.”

You see red. Fury sweeps through you and stings your eyes, roars in your ears. You grab the nearest thing to you, which is the edge of the utensils crock on the counter. It spills over and your hand closes around the handle of the meat mallet. You cry out and swing at him, wanting to smash his smug fucking face to smithereens.

“Woah-ho, easy there.” He laughs and takes a surprised step back, as though you’re nothing but a tantruming child. “Stop being so dramatic.”

You growl and lunge for him again, but cut off in a shriek as someone suddenly grabs you from behind. The meat mallet clatters to the floor as you’re hauled back against the hard body of another man. One big arm wraps around your middle, and the other holds a cloth up at your face, pressing it over your mouth. “Mmph!” you yell out, muffled, and get a huge inhale of chlorine-like smell into your lungs for your trouble. You hold your breath and thrash, but it’s less than useless. The person holding you is large and strong. When you try to headbutt him, it doesn't even clip his chin. You bring your hands up to try and claw at the hand holding the cloth over your mouth, but your nails meet metal instead of skin, and you gasp in another inhale of chemicals as you realize who it is. “Mmph!”

James steps up close, smirking fondly as he watches you fighting the urge to inhale. Eventually he tuts and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Shhh, omegechka. Stop. Stop fighting now. It’s all over.”

“Nngh!”

“Just take a deep breath and go to sleep. Everything’ll be alright, I promise. Just relax.” You whimper as you feel yourself running out of air, knowing that your body’s going to force you to draw breath in a second. James leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, just as your vision starts to fade out, “or our daughter.”

The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then the taste of old pennies in your mouth. Then, a gradually increasing sense of awareness of your body in space and time. At first you think you're somewhere very bright, as colors and rainbows dance through your lashes, but the more you blink your eyes open, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus.

And there he is: holding a crystal tumbler and looking like he's been waiting for you to come round. "Well hello there, Sleepyhead,” he says. “Welcome back." He takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking, the ice cubes clinking softly against the sides of the glass. He looks totally relaxed.

You sit up straighter in the seat where you’d been slumped, moving your tongue around inside of your dry mouth and trying to remember what happened. And then reality hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:

James—He found you.

June—She's not there.

"How're you feeling? Thirsty?"

You blink, dazed, a few lingering specks still floating at the edges of your vision. You look around the room you’re in, clocking your surroundings. Windows, cabin—Shit. You're already on a plane. Pressure builds rapidly at the backs of your eyes as you fight not to cry, thinking of your baby girl left behind, never getting to see her again.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Bucky’s eyes sharpen on you when your stifled sob breaks out and you throw a hand over your mouth. "Steve,” he says, still watching you in concern. “Get her a bottle of water."

“Sure thing, boss.”

And then the worst realization of all: You look over and see the winter fucking soldier walking down the aisle, holding your baby.

They've got June.

Your eyes widen and you make a distressed little ‘meep’ of a sound. “Steve!” you blurt, and he turns to face you. He looks surprised that you’ve spoken directly to him. He’s not wearing his usual black mask, but he still looks huge and intimidating, and it’s like seeing a wild animal right next to your baby—dangerous, wrong. Your mouth works uselessly as you stare at his hands on June’s body: one supporting her head, and the metal one scooped under her butt. You see her back rise and fall steadily through her bumblebee onesie and you realize that she’s asleep. “I-is she okay?” you ask, heart in your throat.

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, but he nods curtly. “She’s fine.”

Across from you, James scoffs, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s going to put her down. There’s a crib in the back. She’ll be fine,” he says, when he sees you stiffen in protest. “You and I have some catching up to do, vorishka.”

“I thought we did that back in my bedroom,” you snap.

“You still want the water?” Steve asks.

“That’s okay.” Bucky keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll take care of her. You just stay back there with pchelka while she sleeps.”

Steve nods, and you can’t help yourself. “Wait! Please. Please give her to me. Steve?” You sit forward with your arms outstretched, but can only watch helplessly as the other man obeys Bucky and ignores you, disappearing back into the next section of the plane. Bastard never did like you.

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky assures you. “Just sit back and relax. We won’t be in the air for too long.”

You hate it, but you do sit back in the chair. James won’t hurt her. You know that. Especially now that you know he knows. You look around the cabin, taking in the wide, leather seats and gleaming wood finishes. There’s a couch, tv, a bar. A fucking electric fireplace. It's the sort of luxury you used to go starry-eyed over; incredibly rich men, fat or old or ugly, tripping all over themselves to spoil you.

… Only, James was never any of those things.

“This is your plane?” you ask, dragging your hand over the arm of your seat.

James smirks. “What? You thought I’d kidnap you and then fly commercial?”

You purse your lips at his joke. “I guess not.” You relax back, trying to get your bearings. It is bad news that you’re already on a plane with him. You’ll be landing at his private airstrip at the Siberia compound, which gives you no middle ground to run. You bite your lip as your thoughts race and you try to think of anything you might be able to do once you get to—

“Stop it,” James says quietly, drawing your attention back to him. He’s giving you a stern look. “You barely got away before, and that was on your own. Now we’ve got our daughter. Anything you try will put her in unnecessary danger and you know that.” He shakes his head, some of that sadness from before creeping back into his eyes. “You’re not leaving me again, omegechka.”

“I’m not?” you echo, stuck in place by his stare, by the memories you share with him, and the fear you have of what he’s planning for your punishment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just taking back what’s mine, Sweetheart. You do realize that?” You fail to answer him and his gaze hardens just a little bit. “That’s okay. You’ll see it eventually. This isn’t a bad thing. If you had just stuck around a little longer instead of lying to me and running off, then you would’ve seen it before, and we wouldn’t have to be going through this right now.” He raises his drink to you in a little salute. “You, me, and pchelka? We’re going to be a family.”

You don’t refuse the water he gives you, or the drink that he mixes for you, after. If James wanted to keep you drugged up until reaching Siberia, he certainly could’ve done so without allowing you to wake up on the plane. You’re only conscious right now because he wants you to be. And because you know that, you don’t protest the drink he prepares for you over at the bar. To be honest, a stiff one actually sounds really good right about now.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he hands it over, still unmoored by this drastic shift in circumstances. A few hours ago you’d been safe in your cottage, then suddenly you weren’t. One minute you’re sure you’re about to get a bullet in the face from this man, and the next, he’s got you sipping thousand dollar vodka on his private jet, calmly explaining how he intends to keep you and force you into some twisted form of domestic bliss.

“I had a whole renovation done for her,” he tells you. “Pchelka will have plenty of room to play and grow.”

You frown, hating the idea of your daughter growing up in that cold, Siberian fortress. You don’t care if he’s bought her an indoor waterslide and a herd of ponies. It’s no place for a child. “What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. “That word: chelk—? You keep using it. You can’t just rename my daughter.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he wipes it away fast. “Pchelka means little bee. The outfit you put her in has bees on it.”

“Oh … Right.” You love that set. It’d been another gift at the shower, from Hilde.

“And she’s my daughter too,” James says tightly.

You gulp at the bitterness in his tone, at his eyes boring into you with reproach. It’s silly, but you do feel bad about hurting him in this one way, at least. “Her name is June,” you offer quietly.

His face draws tight with emotion that’s impossible for you to decipher. Mostly you just sense hurt coming off of him, tingeing his scent and making it into something mournful and awful. He stares at you for a long time. “You made me think you’d lost it,” he eventually whispers. “How could you do that to me?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. You’re just sorry that I found you.”

“I saw you kill people, James!” you cry. “I saw who you really are. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.”

His mouth ticks up at the corners. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’ve got no idea who I am, or what I’ve done for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes gleam and he lifts his drink, tipping back the last of it. “Do you even remember where we met?”

You frown. “Of course.” You’d met him on a yacht, off the coast of Greece. At a party you’d been paid to attend as one of a flock of similarly hired ‘pretty girls’. Five hundred bucks just to sit around and drink cocktails for a few hours and make whoever owned the yacht look like a successful playboy. James had taken one look at you and made it his mission to charm you off of that boat with him. And you’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he says disdainfully. “Don’t know how lucky you really are. I saved you.”

You scoff. “You’re no different from those boat guys. You think you’re so special, God’s gift to omegas, I get it.”

“No,” he grits. “You really don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know! I know what I saw. All over the floor of your goddamn office. I slipped in it for Christ’s sake!”

“Right, right. The men you saw me kill,” he says, referencing the scene you’d walked in on just before you’d faked your miscarriage and fled. “You were eavesdropping outside the door, weren’t you, Little thief?”

You jut your chin out. “Yes. So what?”

“You know, I’d always assumed you heard the entire conversation. Now I realize I was wrong.”

“What?”

He laughs under his breath—at your expense, you suspect. “Who exactly do you think they were?”

“Your business associates. The same sort of underworld, black market scum as you. Only they didn't work for you. You screwed them over and they were there to collect what you owed them, and you murdered them instead.”

James scoffs and smiles angrily, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he looks away in frustration. "Figures," he mutters.

“What?” you snap. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. But I killed them for you.”

“Oh please. Just stop it. Stop lying! I know what you do for work.”

Granted, you'd been a little slow on the uptake back then, too enamored and swept up in the whirlwind romance with your first Alpha that you hadn’t ever stopped to wonder where his money came from, or where it was he jetted off to “on business” every few days. It’d taken a year for you to piece it together, to see the true magnitude of the enterprise he ran, and how dark it really was.

Sitting in front of you now, he doesn’t deny it, which only bolsters your disdain for him. “I don’t want that in my life,” you hiss. “Arms dealing, drugs, smuggling, mercenaries. And apparently human trafficking as well.”

His eyes flash. “They don’t call it that, you know. It’s called the ‘skin trade’.”

“I don’t care.”

He gets up to go pour himself another drink at the bar. “Right,” he snaps, like you’re an idiot. “You’re so fucking naïve, krasotka [pretty (n.)]. So convinced that I’m the devil. But you have no idea how much worse it could’ve been for you.”

“You threatened to sell your own daughter before you figured out she was yours!”

Refusing to be provoked, he returns to stand right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him towering over you. “I knew she was mine from the second I walked in that house,” he says, making your breath catch.

“How?”

He smiles nastily and takes a sip from his drink, then sets it aside. He leans over you with his hands on the back of your seat, caging you in. You can smell the expensive alcohol on his breath as he gets in your face and tells you, “I put that baby in you, moya omegya. She’s a part of me. You think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out? Think an Alpha doesn’t know the scent of his own flesh and blood?”

You tense, fighting not to shrink away. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckles lowly and puts his face right next to yours, cheek to cheek, savoring your reaction. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I may not have forced a mating bite on you back then like I should have, but there are other ways to leave your mark on someone.” He dips in to kiss your neck, right over your unbitten glands. “I found you by your scent,” he whispers. “Sniffed you out.”

You shiver at his hot breath on your skin and the deadly soft tone of his voice. The way your body responds to him isn’t anything you can control, and he knows that, but it still makes you flush with embarrassment when he takes a deep inhale in the bend of your neck and hums with satisfaction when he smells the effect he’s had on you. “I wouldn’t have sold her anyway,” he tells you, pulling back and picking up his drink. “I want you to know that. I don’t participate in the skin trade.”

You swallow thickly, watching him watch you as he waits for you to react to him in some way. You don’t know why you believe him about this one thing, but you do. “But you’re aware of it,” you say. “You know it happens, and you don’t do anything to stop it.”

His jaw works in frustration. “I’ve interfered a time or two, when I could get away with it.”

“Well, aren't you a hero.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I’ve done what little I could. These men make a lot of money dealing in omegas, and they don’t take kindly to being stolen from.”

“I can imagine.”

“No,” he mutters into his drink. “You really can’t.”

There’s something oddly bitter in his tone, like he's working hard not to tell you something. You bite your lip and watch him for a minute. “... How much?” you ask.

“What?” His eyes darken when he figures out what you’re asking. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“It depends,” he grits, glaring at you. "Now cut it out."

Sober, you might have; but half a vodka spritzer after nineteen months of no alcohol has you bolder than you usually would be. You look down at yourself, feigning flippancy. “Well what about me? How much would I go for?”

“Kotenok,” he warns lowly, growling when you continue to press him with a snotty little,

“Come on, I thought you were such a dangerous criminal? You can’t even discuss a little human trafficking with the weak omega you just trafficked?”

He probably knows you’re trying to antagonize him, but he still rises to the bait. He sits back and lets his eyes drag over your body in a way that makes your pulse pick up. “Well,” he drawls, “you just had a baby. So that’s less right there.” Your nostrils flare angrily and he gives you a look. “You’re the one who asked,” he reminds, waiting until you give him a nod to continue. He gives you another onceover, this time lingering in certain places longer, a softer look in his eyes for the softer parts of your body. He almost seems to get distracted. He catches himself overindulging and looks away, like it’s hurting him to consider you this way. “Most people want their omegas untouched,” he says quietly. “Especially if the buyer's alpha, which they usually are. It’s an instinctual thing for us. We’re very driven to possess. We don’t like to share.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you mutter.

His gaze snaps back to you, a painful amount of familiarity in his eyes. “You’dve been a couple million, back when we first met.”

Your eyes widen. You weren't expecting that. “But … I wasn’t even a virgin.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I said untouched, not virginal. Not in that way. Alpha buyers want unbonded and never bred, first and foremost.” He leers at you. “Not that there aren’t some who’ll pay a little extra to pop a girl’s cherry. But that’s not the main thing they’re looking for, when they buy.”

You scowl. “Right. So I guess I’m damaged goods now."

“Oh no, mamochka,” he says seriously. “You’ve only gone up in value in my eyes. Though believe me when I say I’m more than happy to contribute to the depletion of your market value." He raises his glass to his lips, looking darkly pleased. “You’re not for sale, and you never will be. You’re mine.”

You're embarrassed to be the one to break eye contact first, but you can’t keep listening to him talk about how much he likes you and watching him look at you like you’re his most prized possession. With any other man you’d just be disgusted, but James has always had a knack for getting you flustered, and he knows it. There’s always been an inexplicable pull between the two of you, and he knows that, too. It’s the main reason why you've always refused his attempts to bond you. You're terrified of what it’ll be like after, since you already know how pathetically helpless you are around him without a bond.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumble quietly. “Where is it?”

“Just down there.” He nods in the direction behind you, opposite from where Steve had gone with June.

You press your lips together and get up without looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re walking away.

“Don’t take too long in there, kotenok,” he purrs from back in his seat. “Or I’ll have to come in after you.”

In the bathroom, you splash water on your face and lean against the sink, looking at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. You blink, and she blinks, but it feels like you’re looking at another person, someone you don’t know. She looks fragile. Tired, and dazed. June’s been sleeping through the night for months, but it’s been a hell of a day.

You scrutinize your reflection, smoothing your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears, thinking about how you have zero makeup on. Then you scoff at yourself for caring what you look like in front of him. You think about how much you’ve changed in the seventeen months since you ran away. Not just physically, but mentally. You’ve had to be so strong. For June, for yourself. It’s been awful, and lonely, and you’ve hated yourself for not being able to stop missing him.

You sniffle and splash more water on your face, grumpily thinking that postpartum hormones are so much worse than the pregnancy ones. You grab the towel off the wall, but freeze when you bring it up to pat your face dry and get a smell of it.

Oh.

You whimper, unable to keep from pressing it harder to your mouth and nose and inhaling deeply. It’s James’ scent, and it smells so good. It smells like Safety and Love and Alpha. You hear the sound of your own, needy mewl and you gasp, yanking the towel away from your face and tossing it into the sink, trying to keep your shit together. You brace your hands on the counter and glare at your reflection to tell her to stop it, stop it, stop it, but all it takes is seeing your lower lip quiver, and soon your entire face is collapsing in long-repressed sadness. You turn away from the mirror with a pathetic noise, throat aching from the urge to keen.

Why does this have to be happening?! You’ve tried so hard, for so long. To be strong for June, to get over him, to move on! You bury your face in your hands and choke on a wrenching sob. You know you have to be quiet, have to stop, have to pull yourself together before he—

A soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. “Doll?”

You whine and hastily search for a lock on the door, but there is none, and James hears your crying and pulls the door open. “Honey,” he mourns when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You push past him, hurrying in the direction he isn’t blocking. “Leave me alone!” you cry, hating the blubbering in your voice that makes you sound just as weak as James thinks you are. You arrive in a perfectly made up bedroom with no point of egress other than the one you arrived through. You whine in distress, circle around helplessly, and then throw yourself onto the bed when he arrives at the doorway looking worried. “Leave me alone!” you cry, curling onto your side and pulling one of the pillows down to bury your face in. At least it isn’t suffused with James’ scent. You still cry though, unable to keep it in anymore now that you’ve started.

He tuts sadly from the doorway and comes into the room slowly. He stands there for a long minute, silent, before he sighs and his weight comes onto the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says.

“Just leave me alone,” you whine miserably. “Go away!”

“Shh sh sh.” He curls up behind you, arms around your waist and legs pushing in behind yours. He kisses your shoulder and hugs you, but it only makes you cry harder at how achingly familiar it is. “It’s okay,” he murmurs between kisses. He doesn’t try to get you to stop crying, or ask you what’s wrong. He seems to know exactly why you’re breaking down, and he simply devotes all his efforts to helping you calm down in your own time. “S’okay, s’okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he keeps saying, soothing you with a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I’ve got you now. It’s all gonna be okay. Shhh.”

At first, his placating makes you angry, but not enough to stop your crying, and once that tapers off from sobs to quiet, sniffling tears, you can’t seem to dredge up the anger anymore. It isn’t there.

“You feeling a little better?” he asks kindly, gently tucking your hair behind your ear and then hugging you again.

You whine when you feel his lips against your neck. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice coming out scratchy from all of the crying. You cringe and scrub your face into the pillow in embarrassment. “Just got a little sad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, giving you a supportive squeeze. “That’s okay.”

You hate how he says it, because it’s obvious that he knows why you were crying: Poor, sad little omega, bawling her eyes out over how much she’s missed her Alpha. He nuzzles into your neck, telling you it’s okay and that you’re allowed to cry. As much as you hate him being able to see into you so easily, you’re just grateful that he isn’t rubbing your face in it right now. The way he's holding you and comforting you feels good. You don’t fight to get away from him.

The two of you lie there together for what feels like a long time. Once you’ve stopped crying and are only giving the occasional sniffle for your runny nose, he goes back to running his hand over your side. It’s a gesture of comfort. He’s not groping you, but even still, you blush at the vulnerability of it. You find yourself glad that you’re facing away from him.

The plane shifts noticeably, and James’ hand pauses on your hip. “Pilot said we’re landing soon,” he murmurs. “Should probably go and get pchelka up.”

You sniffle and fight off the urge of resurfacing tears at hearing him reference June. One day of knowing his daughter and already he’s got a nickname for her. You should be annoyed by that, but instead it just makes your heart squeeze with emotion. “Pchelka,” you whisper, trying out the word.

“Yeah.” He hums happily and kisses your shoulder one last time. “Little bee. Come on. Let’s go.”

You don’t think about how it’s far too soon to have arrived at your destination, until you’re back in the main room of the cabin on the way to where Steve disappeared with June, earlier. You pause at the windows, peering out at the landscape. “This isn’t Russia,” you say, confused. The plane is definitely descending, but you’ve only been in the air for a few hours at most. “James?” you ask, as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Together, you both look out at the looming mountains and turquoise waters below. “Where are we?” you breathe.

James rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs happily. “Home,” he says. “We’re home.”

A.N.: See? Much less Rapey! Plenty more mega-dub con to come though, so don't you angst-lovers worry. Thanks for reading!💖Sarah

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