#dark! steve rogers x reader

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘

Pairing; Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings; smut, dark themes, non con, breeding kink, oral- both receiving, degrading, size difference, unbalanced power dynamic, huge daddy kink, choking- to the point reader can’t breathe, dumbification, dacryphillia, spanking, steve is very dark in this, no aftercare!! i think thats it? Minors please DNI!!!!!

Summary; Steve Rogers, your boyfriend, the man everybody loved, his soul soft, standing against all evils. Until he got a taste of that sweet power. He became hungry. Now, you have no choice but to obey his rules. Can you bring him back to the light? Or is it too late? (it’s definitely too late)

here we have my first ever full fic! firstly i would like to give a huge thankyou to @dbnightingale24 for giving me the confidence and tips to write this! and another big thankyou to @evansbby and @hansensgirl for inspiring me in the first place for begin writing💘it’s around 3k words and i really put my all into this so please don’t forget to comment and reblog, i would love to hear all of your feedback!🫶🏻 much love, cherry.

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

Steve Rogers, the man everyone respected, the man everyone believed in, looked up too. The man you used to cherish, his sweet boyish nature drawing you in from the moment you met. His pearly blues that used to soften as they fell on you, his gentle touch as he caressed your hair, the tender, loving kisses he used to leave all over your body.

Until Fury resigned that was.

Steve was officially the new director of shield, to which nobody opposed, i mean, who would right? He was Captain America, the man out of time. He was perfcet for the role. Strong willed, commanding yet understanding, he had respect for those beneath him and most of all he was compassionate, something that was hard to find in a good leader. This didn't last for long, of course.

Steve shortly became power hungry, his morals became more sick and twisted as his methods became more sadistic. He was violent, cruel…volatile. There was no bringing back Steve Rogers. The problem was he dragged everybody else down with him, nobody dared to stand up to Steve, too frightened of the consequences.

Tony couldn't talk Steve down, he tried for a while, attempted to reach out to him, guide him back to the light...but nothing worked. Tony couldn't do it, nor could you, not even his best friend of over a decade could sway his newfound mindset. You all figured it was best to keep your heads down from now on and follow Steves orders, no matter how out of line they seemed.

Not that you had a choice anyway.

Bucky was short to follow in his footsteps as his second in command. Both cruel and unforgiving. Your friendship with Bucky was practically non-exhistant, you no longer had movie nights together, giggling with big buckets of popcorn.

A simple nod of his head as he passed you down the hall was about as much as you would get. Steve wouldn't allow it now anyway.

Steve's display of affection changed alongside him, the love he made was no longer passionate, or gentle. In fact, he didn’t make love at all anymore… what he made was simply rough, hard, fucking.

The marks he left behind were no longer loving hickeys while he whispered in your ear, moaning sweet nothings as he gently thrusted his hips into your own. His eyes, gleaming with nothing but pure devotion.

They were bruises... bruises from how hard his hips slammed into your ass from behind, his grip tight on your hair, pulling and tugging as your skin became flustered at the impact of his thrusts. You missed the man he was. You often thought about that life while his cock was busy destroying your cunt. He didn’t care about your pleasure anymore, you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck.

From a distance you could hear Steves heavy boots storming down the coridoor. The sound was instantly unsettling. Your body recognising the noise as a trigger for an oncoming threat, sending you into alert mode.

You stood from your office chair on shaky legs, your posture rigid as he turned the corner to enter. His 6'4, stoic figure coming into view, casting a shadow that filled the room. His broad shoulders spread wide, his presence making your tummy tighten with unease.

He said nothing as he stared down at you, your fingers tugging at your short pink skirt- which he had chosen out for you this morning, the same way he customised your figure every morning. Claiming your dumb, baby brain was incapable of choosing an outfit that proved elegance and professionalism. In reality it was the complete opposite.

He liked to dress you in short skirts, ones that left little to the imagination, your asscheeks peeking out most days and revealing blouses, your tits practically spilling out of your shirts. You were highly sought after by the males at the compound before he came and scooped you up a few years ago.

They knew you were his, i mean he was your boyfriend for several years, you were what the female agents used to coo at, naming you as "couple goals". Where Steve went, you went, and vice versa. You were always seen smiling and giggling together, tag teaming on missons and holding hands as you explored the compound.

But, as steves power grew so did his insecurity. His possesive nature grew strong, wanting, no, needing to show other men you belonged to him, and only him. And you always would, whether you liked it or not.

"Get on your knees."

"Wh-What?"

"Get on your knees. You know i don't like to repeat myself." he growls while pushing your office door closed with one arm from behind, not daring to take his eyes of you.

You gulped as he stepped forward, caging you inbetween his thick biceps as you lean against your desk. One thing he was always good at was making you feel small. Even before all of this. Of course it wasn't anywhere near as threatening as it was now. He used to joke about how tiny you were compared to him, how he could pick you up with one hand, it was cute how big and protective he was of you.

Now, he used it to his advantage. He knew you feared him. He knew that you knew, you would never be able to run from him. He would overpower you every damn time with his brute strength.

There was no running from Steve Rogers. His thick beard scraped against your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine as he groaned into your neck, your scent driving him wild.

He whispered darkly in your ear "Final chance. Get on your knees. Now, or you won't like what'll happen if you refuse me again."

You inhaled sharply, goosebumps spreading across your body in pure fear, or ecstacy. It was hard to tell these days. Steve had conditioned you so well to his own liking that even your body reacted to him in ways you would never fully understand. Or so he says.

Slowly you inched down towards the floor with your knees bent. The cold, rough flooring instantly proving to be uncomfortable as you figited. But Steve didn't care about that, why would he? His thick hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyelids.

His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, he then pushes further, massaging your tongue as saliva begins to pool in your mouth. Removing his thumb slowly, he tugged on your bottom lip with pinched fingers. Before you even realised what was happening he shoves two fingers down your throat.

You sputter and gag around his thick digits, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the hard floor. Your eyes squeezed shut in pain as tears began rolling down your flustered cheeks.

His other hand is quick to grip your hair, tugging harshly. "You fuckin' look at me while daddy gags you with his fingers. Actin' like you don't get off on this shit. You love it. Say 'thankyou daddy'." he mocks with a high pitched tone.

Desperately trying to get the words out, you mumble around his fingers, seeming incoherent. He laughs darkly at your poor attempt, shoving his fingers deeper down your throat, gagging you one last time before pulling out.

"You gonna' be a good whore n' suck my dick? Huh? You fuckin' slut." His hand reaches down, pulling your shirt to the side, making your tits spill out. You hear him let out a loud groan, his pants tightening at the sight of your bare chest. He pinches your hard nipple roughly, rolling it roughly inbetween his index finger and thumb as you cry out, tears continuing to stream down your cheeks.

He shushes your cries gently as he begins to massage the same spot he previously assaulted making you keen with pleasure.

He had a thing for associating pain with pleasure, confusing your silly little brain into thinking the hurt he put you through was a good thing since pleasure soon followed. That he was rewarding you.

"Unzip me. Cmon' you dumb baby, take daddys fat cock out."

Listening to your own heartbeat in your ears, your head pounding with adrenaline, your fingers itch towards his pants. Which was apparently too slow for his liking as his grip on your hair tightens, making you sqeeze your eyes shut briefly before opening them, not wanting to anger him further.

You hurridly unzip his pants, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his cock. It's angry head pointing towards you as he grips the base with his other hand, slowing pumping his shaft over your face.

He pushes his bulbous tip into your closed lips, smearing his hot precum all over them. When you refuse to open your mouth he growls, pinching your nostrils closed. Feeling the air begin to leave your lungs, you gasp for breath and he's quick to shove his dick down your throat.

Gagging at the intrusion you cry harder, your lips stretching to fit around his thick length. his hips thrusting into your face as he fucks your throat harshly.

"That's it, you whore. Take daddys dick all the way down your throat. You fuckin' remember this the next time you try to refuse me."

His hand which was previously tugging at your hair moves towards your throat, holding you in a tight grip.

"Fuck... i can feel my fuckin' cock in that tiny throat of yours. Love it when you cry f' me, just makes me want to fuck you even harder, sweet girl." he grunts loudly over the sound of your gagging. Steve swiftly pulls his dick out as you keel over, coughing and sputtering, your throat sore from his brutal assault.

Before you even have a chance to gain your breath, his thick hands grip your shoulders, pulling you upright, bending you over your desk. Your legs shaking as he positions you so your ass is sticking out.

Lowering himself to the ground, he grips the flesh of your ass, squeezing roughly as he lifts up your skirt, briskly pulling your panties to the side. He shoves his nose into your pussy, groaning in delight at your sweet scent.

"Fuck i could live inbetween these slutty legs, your cunt's always ready for daddy, huh? Trained you so well." Your sticky juices smeared across your legs, dripping with desire, his facial hair bristling against your thighs making you squirm.

He mercilessly pushes his tongue as deep as it can go into your hole. You whimper as he laps up your wetness, his tongue prodding at your insides. Your arousal soaking his beard while your pussy clenched around his tongue. He pulls away for a moment, “God, how do you taste so fuckin’ good.” he groans.

Reaching back to grip his hair in your small fists, you go to push his face back into your cunt, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. His hand grips your wrist tightly, pining your arm to the desk, a sure reminder of who's in charge, seeming as you had forgotten your place. “Stay fuckin’ still or i’ll stop. Don’t you ever pull that shit again.”

You moan lewdly as he moves to latch onto your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Groaning into your pussy as he fists his cock.

Your eyes begin to roll back as your orgasm itches closer. Steve, realising this, pulls away once again. Your juices stringing from your clit to his lips as you cry out, your orgasm beginning to fade.

"Stop with the fuckin' whining. Daddy's gonna' fuck you now. Tell daddy how much you want his cock...Cmon. No need to act all innocent now." he pressures at your hesitation.

"P-Please daddy wan' you to fuck me."

"You can do better than that." Steve husks, giving your ass a harsh smack from behind, knowing your skin will blister from his force.

Your lips quiver as you cry, "Please! N-Need your cock inside me so badly, wan' you to destroy me for anybody else. Wanna' feel you in my cervix daddy, Jus' wanna make you feel good. Love how full you make me feel. Please...I-I'll die if you don't fuck me. Pretty pretty ple-."

and before you can finish your sentence your cut off by your own scream, his cock dissapearing inbetween your folds as he bottoms out with a singular thrust. Your legs become slack as your body spasms at the intrustion, his hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as you squirm, instinctively trying to escape his hold.

"F-Fuck, Y-Your so big daddy. It hurts so bad, p-pull out!"

"Shut up." he groans as his thick hand covers your mouth from behind. “Gonna fuckin’ dog fuck you til you can’t think of anything but this fat fuckin’ cock you dirty little slut, you hear me?” he practically growls as he begins to fuck you.

The sound of clapping skin begins to fill the room, agents around the compound sure to hear the way his dick bruitalises your cunt.

"Such a filthy girl i have, always so desperate for daddy to fuck you, even when you try and deny it, i know this sweet pussy would never lie to me." He coos in your ear as you sob, your face wet with tears and saliva.

"My messy whore, see what happens when you don't listen to me? You see what a mess you become? Fuck. You look so pretty like this, this is how you should always be, filled to the brim with my fat dick.”

Steve had always loved fucking you braindead, watching as your eyes glaze over and your tongue begins to hang out of your mouth, drooling all over yourself. It made him feel powerful, like you were dependent on him. Which you were in a sense, always so needy and desperate for him to fuck you.

The impact of his animalistic thrusts turn your skin raw as he speeds up. His arm wrapping around your waist, pressing you close to him as he spreads his legs further apart, hitting a new angle inside your pussy. You let out a loud wanton moan as his balls slap against your clit.

“F-Fuck yes! H-Harder daddy.”

“Yeah? You like that? I know you do, it’s okay. Is my little girls brain goin’ fuzzy? Huh? Poor girl.” Steve mocked, amusement clear in his tone. "M' gonna' cum. Daddy please can i cum?" you whine, the knot in your stomach tightening, a warning that your orgasm was near.

"Yeah baby? You gonna' cum for me you dirty whore? Go ahead, cum all over my dick. Can feel you clenching around me, grippin' me like a fuckin' vice."

Your cream coats his length as you let out a muffled cry, biting your lip harshly as you cum.

"T-Thankyou daddy. Feels s-so good..." you babble, your thick cream creating a ring around the base of his cock. Your weight giving out once again as Steve holds you, smirking as he watches you come undone, giving you no escape from his relentless thrusts.

His thick shaft pummeling your insides as you scream with ecstacy, your pussy throbbing as he fucks you through your high.

"F-Fuck look at that... love watching your cream leak around my cock, taking this dick so good for me. Gonna' cum inside you...yeah? You want daddy to fill you up?" he groans as his own orgasm nears, talking himself through it.

"God, this cunt treats me like a fuckin' king. It's coming baby, daddys gonna cum, Oh fuck fuckkk." his hips twitch and his balls throb as his load begins to fill you, shooting out thick ropes of hot cum into your pussy. Moaning at the sensation of his warmth inside you.

“Take my fuckin’ cum. That’s it, good girl. Love watchin’ your pussy swallow my hot fuckin load, bet you love it too, hm? You slut.” he pants, exhausted from the brutal fucking he just gave you.

He snaps out of it almost instantly, pulling out without warning and tucking his softening cock back into his pants.

Giving your ass a harsh smack, he steps back. You turn to look at him, your eyes glazed over. He stares at the ground with no emotion as he combs his locks with his fingers, making himself seem presentable.

Hope fills you, your heart races as you lick your lips in anticipation, wondering if he will stay to comfort you and hold you the way he used to many months ago.

But he doesn't. You get nothing but a short glance as he turns to exit your office, slamming the door shut on his way out. You slump down against the floor, a complete mess.

Your soft cries turn to sobs, breathing rapidly, your hands gripping your hair as you raise your knees to your chest. It was almost as if he had you in a trance when he was burried inside your cunt, as soon as he was done it was like the fog in your brain had cleared.

People told you there was no bringing the old Steve back, that your sweet, caring boyfriend was gone. Replaced by a monster.

You didn't want to believe them... but maybe you should've.

[p3sephone]

No escape (Dark! Natasha Romanoff x reader x dark! Steve Rogers)

Summary: Natasha and Steve found a common interest, and that is you. But then you say things like you want to break up, and then escape. So, of course they take you back, and then make sure you understand the hardest way you can't really leave them.

Warnings: past non-con, physical and psychological abuse, manipulation, Natasha is a warning herself, kidnapping, drugging, future non-con implied, dark thought on reader. This is a dark story with dark themes, so minors are NOT ALLOWED, only +18. I don't own these characters.

Note: okay so, I kinda have a little thought about turning this into a serie or at least make part 2. What do you think? Anyway, any comment, like or reblog is truly appreciated. <3 Requests are open!

She didn't know what was going through her mind. It was something crazy what she had just done, and yet Natasha continued to drive towards her desolate destination while your helpless and drugged body was in the back of the seats. She had to admit, she had always been determined and rigid in her decisions, but even she wavered sometimes. Especially when it came to you. But you were so stubborn, what was she supposed to do?

You had left her. You had left her and Steve. She still remembered the conversation from days ago.

"I want to break up."

They were extremely simple words, but coming out of your mouth they were truly surreal. Natasha focused directly on you with an expressionless look, while Steve was already getting more nervous as he started to walk towards you. Natasha had always been the one who talked less than Steve: she was the one more inclined to inflict punishments and make you cry, Steve agreed with her but only when necessary.

If it were up to Natasha, you would have been locked up in that New York apartment at all hours and without the possibility of leaving. She remembered how your relationship was at the beginning: you, Steve and her. It had been born spontaneously, or rather, well, Natasha had perhaps manipulated more than a few things to ensure that the three of you ended up together and that Steve would give her more support when it came to having a firm hand on you.

If only she had had her way, those stupid words would never have come out of your mouth. Steve immediately asked the reasons and Natasha made a face of contempt at you. No, she was not willing to get into that conversation, because there was nothing to discuss: you would not have moved from there, far from them. She had to remind you that, even before Steve, Natasha had seen you for the first time. You were hers. Then the blond noticed you and Natasha didn't mind sharing with him, also because she knew she needed help in the early days because she knew we would get to this point without the right discipline.

"I don't feel good in this relationship anymore, I want… I want the life I had before." Natasha understood how uncertain you were when talking and did what she knew how to do best: manipulate you. She had manipulated you in every way, listing every single thing they had done for you, how well they treated you not only during your daily routine, but also during the nights you spent alone before.

That day she remembered that made you cry a lot, from humiliation. You felt humiliated deep down and somehow you knew that Natasha and Steve were wrong, but your body didn't have the strength to pull back from the long session of suffocating cuddles they forced you to after that argument.

Natasha remembered all of that vividly. Yet, her manipulation, her ways, even her kindness and mercy towards you hadn’t been enough to keep you confined in that apartment. Somehow that adorable head of yours had managed to find a way to escape from them. Steve was the first to discover it, and he felt mostly concern, followed by sadness and anger. Natasha knew Steve: he was a good guy, but if you pressed the right spots he became exactly like her. And Natasha didn’t need the Steve who was kind and adorable to you, she needed the other Steve, the same one you had dealt with one night when you had decided to reject them both in bed and insulted them. You had suffered some bruises and a bad headache, but Natasha remembered how well you had behaved in the days that followed.

Natasha’s mind suddenly cleared. She had done the right thing, she had followed you to that bar and drugged your soft drink, she had finally dragged you away without your dumb friends noticing anything. Oh, she would fix them later, but first she needed to teach you a lesson. She sneered wickedly. She just had to press that button. So, she called Steve. The infamous captain didn't take long to answer, looking all worried.

"Steve, I got her back. I'm taking her to our plan b, that place you know about." Natasha didn't even give him time to speak and continued in a stiff, angry voice. "Do you know where she was? She wasn't in danger. She was with her friends, in a bar and dressed in a shabby way. She had a man on her and she was completely ready for his attentions, you have no idea how she was dancing. She dressed like we always forbade her to, she drank and accepted a bag of… I don't know, but I took her out of there. I did the right thing, didn't I, Steve?"

Natasha didn't need an answer. She had actually lied: you weren't doing any of that, you were just talking to your friends and when a man approached you you politely rejected him like the beautiful little girl you are.

But Natasha had to make you understand that there were consequences if you ran away from them, and Steve would never guarantee those consequences unless she said the things he hated the most.

Natasha thought you were cute in those short, skimpy dresses, it just made her want to rip them off, Steve preferred a more conservative part. Natasha hated it when anyone else paid attention to you, Steve did the same. Natasha liked you when you were drunk because you couldn't remember what she did to you during that time, Steve… well, he might be lying but he actually liked you too, even if with more guilt.

"I'm coming." Steve didn't give Natasha time to say anything else, he had already hung up. The red-haired woman looked at your poor, still helpless and unaware figure in the mirror. You had no idea what was waiting for you but Natasha did, and she was going to savor every second of it. You'll never leave her again, she'll make sure of it.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 3

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Dividers by @Strangergraphics

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

I started to settle in more than I thought I would. The awkwardness from the first week wasn’t as obvious anymore. It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually, things started to feel less forced. Daily activities like yoga on the beach, lounging by the pool, and group dinners became easier. I found myself laughing more, sharing more, and getting used to the rhythm of this strange little bubble.

Sure, they were still spoiled rich kids, but there was more to them than I’d initially thought. While I wasn’t entirely convinced about Sharon and her sway over the group, it was becoming harder to see them solely as the superficial snobs I had first assumed them to be.

That morning, after yoga, I was ready to return to my room and have some alone time. But Steve wasn’t having it. “Why don’t you stay out here with us?” he asked, flashing me one of his playful grins. “Hang with the crew?”

Something in his voice made it clear it wasn’t really a suggestion, so I felt the need to give in and sat down on a couch in the living room. Steve wasted no time sliding into the seat beside mine, his leg pressing against mine. The closeness threw me off a little, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

I guess this was normal for them.

Sharon was still holed up in her room, recovering from whatever had her down. I worried for her but pushed it to the back of my mind. She had plenty of people to take care of her. I didn’t need to be that person.

To ease the awkwardness I felt from Steve sitting so close, I pulled out my phone and opened the book I’d downloaded the day before, hoping it would be a good distraction.

Steve glanced over his breath against my face. “Is that the book you were talking about?”

I blinked, a bit surprised he even remembered. “Yeah, this is it.”

“Nice,” he said, nodding approvingly before returning his attention to the TV. He casually placed his arm behind my head, resting it on the couch acting so casually.

I tried to focus on my book, but it was hard. Everyone was so nice and considerate of me, much different from when we were in university when they’d either be outright rude or ignore me. Despite everything, maybe this trip wasn’t so bad. Maybe I was just overthinking things.

Sharon was starting to act... off. By the middle of the second week, it was impossible not to notice. She was constantly tired, missing yoga three times a row, skipping meals, and staying shut in her room. For someone like Sharon, who thrived on being the center of attention and orchestrating everything, it was bizarre. And yet, she was barely keeping up with the group. 

One afternoon, we decided to keep it simple and go to a beach nearby. I had already gotten comfortable in the sand, watching Natasha and Pepper chat while Thor, Peter, and Bruce waded into the water. Tony opted to stay on the beach and tan. But Sharon kept to herself, not saying much. But when I looked at her, she was pale, and I could see the sweat collecting at her temples. Something wasn’t right.

She stood, aiming for the cooler, stumbling along the way. 

I stood up immediately, but she waved me off with a shaky hand. "I’m fine, just tired," she mumbled, but even from where I stood, it was clear she wasn’t. No one else moved to help her, not even Steve, who was just lounging, watching the scene unfold before him.

Seriously?

 I felt my frustration spike but now wasn’t the time. I didn't want to let her collapse on the beach. “Do you need to sit down?” I asked, catching her just as she was about to lose her balance completely.

Steve didn’t budge. He just kept lounging, watching with his casual look, before he got up and headed toward the water like everything was normal. I clenched my teeth but focused on Sharon. Whatever Steve’s deal was, it wasn’t helping right now.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the villa,” I said, looping my arm around her waist to support her. Sharon leaned into me, too weak to even protest. I glanced back a few times, hoping someone would come around to help, but no one did.

Back inside the villa, I helped Sharon sit down and grabbed her some water. She looked rough, her face flushed, and her eyes half-closed, as if she were fighting to stay conscious. She took small sips of the water, her embarrassment evident.

“Thanks,” she murmured, clearly not used to being this vulnerable. For a second, I saw something past the confident, borderline cruel persona she usually showed.

I nodded, not saying much. Despite everything between us, I wasn’t the type to let someone suffer, even if that someone was Sharon. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said after a while, waving her hand like she wanted me to go. But I didn’t leave right away. Something wasn’t right, and I wasn’t about to leave her alone, especially after Steve just... bailed.

 I sighed, sitting there with her, knowing I wouldn’t feel right unless I saw this through.

Sharon was getting worse, fast. I tried to get her to drink more water, but she barely sipped, her words coming out all slurred and jumbled. Panic crept up my spine as I watched her skin turn clammy. And then, without warning, her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped forward, completely out.

My heart leaped into my throat. “Shit,” I whispered, bolting out of the room like my life depended on it. I practically sprinted toward the others by the shore.

"Sharon needs help! She needs a doctor!" I shouted, breathless, my voice shaky, as my lungs tried to keep up. 

Steve barely glanced up from where he was lounging. “Are you sure she’s not just being dramatic?” he asked, annoyed, like I was overreacting.

 I grabbed his hand and rushed him back to the villa without thinking. When he saw Sharon unconscious on the floor, his face went pale. "Oh shit."

 Finally. he rushed over to her, kneeling beside her, and placed his hand on her forehead. Bruce was close behind, calm as ever, entirely in control of the situation.

 Bruce crouched next to Sharon, checking her pulse like he’d done it a hundred times before. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up, his expression serious. “She’s severely dehydrated.”

 I shook my head, my chest tightening. “But she’s been drinking water. I’ve been making sure of it!” 

Bruce stayed focused on Sharon but nodded. “Her body’s not absorbing it. It could be heat exhaustion or something else. We need to get her fluids, fast.”

 Pepper was already on the phone with emergency services, and Bruce carefully turned Sharon onto her side, ensuring she stayed breathing.

 “We need to cool her down,” Bruce added, glancing at Steve. “Get some towels soaked in cold water. We’ve got to bring her temperature down.”

 Steve didn’t hesitate this time. He darted out, leaving me standing there, feeling completely useless. I hated being helpless and standing on the sidelines while everyone else knew what to do.

 Bruce glanced at me, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine once they get her some fluids.”

 I nodded, but the knot in my chest refused to loosen. I wasn’t going to relax until Sharon opened her eyes again.

 Sharon had been out cold for 16 hours straight. I stayed with her the entire time, only leaving once to shower quickly and change back at the villa. Steve was there, too, leaning against the wall. His usual laid-back attitude was gone, replaced with genuine concern, hopefully feeling guilty for ignoring Sharon's state.  

When Sharon finally stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Steve. There was this glimmer in her eyes like his presence was some kind of comfort to her. But then she spotted me, and that glimmer quickly vanished, replaced with tears.

 Medical staff rushed in to check her vitals, making sure everything was stable, but her tears didn’t stop. She turned to me, her voice shaky and almost resentful. "This must make you happy."

 I blinked, completely thrown off. "What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

 "You…seeing me like this. It must make you happy," she repeated, her words cutting deeper than I expected.

 For a second, I didn’t even know how to respond. Was she serious? Then, as disbelief turned into frustration, I shook my head. "Never," I said more firmly than I intended. "Sharon, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve only ever helped you. Every time." My voice softened a bit, but the truth in my words was undeniable. "You’re the one who’s thrived on watching me fall apart."

Sharon didn’t say anything for a while; she just stared at me with her lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but something held her back. Finally, she sighed and sank back into her pillow.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, barely audible, but it was there, a reluctant kind of gratitude.

I nodded, but the air between us was thick, the tension still hanging. "You're welcome," I replied quietly, wondering if this little moment of honesty meant anything to her or if she’d just return to her old ways the second she recovered.

Two days passed, and things finally came to a head. I sat in Sharon’s hospital room with Tony and Pepper, chatting idly. Sharon still looked pale but was doing much better, which was a relief. She broke the quiet, her voice firm.

"I want to go home."

I glanced at Thor, expecting him to talk her out of it, but he nodded like it was no big deal and pulled out his phone. "Okay," he said, already texting Steve.

I was a little surprised. I mean, I figured Steve would push back or suggest Sharon stay a bit longer to rest up. I thought the medical scare would have him in protective mode, but apparently not. Maybe it did get to him, and he just wanted her home, safe and sound.

Maybe. 

Back at the villa, Natasha and I helped Sharon pack. We were in her room, folding clothes and zipping up suitcases. It was almost too quiet, with this weird tension hanging in the air. I kept thinking about what Sharon had said earlier. Sure, she was always dramatic, but something felt… off.  

Once everything was packed and ready, Sharon paused and gave Natasha a look, almost like she was sizing her up. Then, out of nowhere, she hugged me. And not the usual Sharon hug, either. This was tight, like she meant it. I was so thrown off I barely hugged her back. While we hugged, she leaned in close and whispered, “Be careful.”

I froze, unsure of how to react. I mean, what? What was I supposed to do with that? But before I could even process it, Sharon had already pulled back and moved on to hug Natasha.

“Take care,” she said to Natasha, sounding casual. 

Steve was waiting by the door, ready to walk Sharon out like the doting boyfriend, but Sharon, true to form, brushed him off. “I’m fine,” she said, barely looking at him. She kissed him on the cheek like she was going through the motions.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip,” she said, her tone neutral. But when her eyes flicked to me, I saw something else. Concern? A warning? I wasn’t sure, but the look stuck with me.

And then she was gone. I didn’t know what to think. Was I supposed to read into all that? Or was Sharon just being Sharon?

Everyone seemed to fall back into their usual routine in no time, but I couldn’t shake what had happened to Sharon. How quickly she’d spiraled, how fast she was just… gone. It stuck with me, swirling in my head while I sat in my room trying to make sense of everything. Natasha was sitting next to me, doing her best to comfort me, saying Sharon would be okay, I didn’t need to worry so much, and I should continue enjoying my vacation.

 It eventually went quiet, and Steve was standing at my doorway when I looked up.

Natasha gave me a quick look, then stood without a word and left, leaving me alone in the room with him. He didn’t hesitate, walking over to sit beside me on the bed, his usual confident demeanor softened.

“The last few days were pretty scary, huh?” Steve said, his voice calm. “But at least we can all have peace of mind now, knowing Sharon’s okay.”

I nodded, trying to push away the uneasiness still clinging to me. “Why did you let her go?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. 

Steve glanced at me, his eyes soft but steady. “She’s not well, Kiwi. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her here, away from home” 

His reasoning was precisely what I expected, but I still didn’t like it. 

Steve stood, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Come on, everyone’s going shopping,” he said, his voice warm and persuasive. “You should come. Take your mind off of all this.”

I hesitated for a second but then nodded. “Okay,” I agreed, letting him lead me out of the room and into the main area, where everyone else was already waiting, ready to head out.

Sharon was still on my mind, but if she was going to be okay, maybe I could try to enjoy the rest of this trip. It was what I came here for, after all.

A few days after Sharon left, I finally got a text from her.

–Feeling much better. Thanks for everything.

That was it. No long explanations, no dramatic thank you, just that simple message. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Knowing she was okay should’ve given me peace, but I couldn’t shake this odd sense of... detachment. The days here at the villa were starting to blur together, each feeling like the last.

Morning yoga, lounging by the pool, and fancy dinners were like living in some beautiful, surreal bubble. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was drifting through it all, like none of this was real, and I was just waiting for something to snap me back to reality.

Maybe it was because Sharon wasn’t here anymore. Or perhaps it was because I couldn’t help but wonder if things would change now that she was gone.

I don’t know exactly when it started, but over the next few days, Steve got a lot more comfortable around me, too comfortable, if I’m honest. It wasn’t just the casual arm draped over my shoulder anymore or how he’d guide me by the small of my back. Now, it was more.

One afternoon, after a long day by the pool, Steve came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me slightly off the ground. I squealed, surprised, but he just laughed and set me down, pressing a ‘playful’ kiss on my cheek.

“Hey, you!” he said, that usual charming grin on his face as if this kind of intimacy between us was completely normal.

I blinked, frozen in place for a second, trying to process what had just happened. No one seemed to care or even notice. Peter and Natasha were too engrossed in some heated conversation by the pool. Bruce was off somewhere with Jane, Thor, and Pepper.

What the hell was that? I thought. But I smiled back, brushing it off like it was nothing.

Another day, during a group hike, he held my hand the entire time, something he hadn’t done before. It wasn’t like we were lagging behind or needed help climbing; he just... held it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I remember feeling that odd, familiar discomfort creeping back in, but no one said anything. Not Natasha, not Peter, not anyone.

Then came the moment that threw me off. We were all gathered outside around the fire pit one evening, laughing about something silly Tony had said, and Steve, turned to me, all giddy from whatever had amused him so much,  peppering kisses all over my face, forehead, cheeks, nose, all in this overly affectionate, playful way.

“Steeeve!” I protested, trying to push him away, but I was laughing, shocked at the sudden intimacy. He was grinning ear to ear like a little kid, completely unbothered by my attempts to squirm out of his grasp.

“Come on, it’s just a little love!” he teased, finally letting me go, still beaming like he’d won some game.

I sat there, feeling a little off-kilter. What the hell was going on? Since when had we gotten to this level of closeness, and why wasn’t anyone calling it out?

I glanced around, half-expecting someone to call us out or ask if I was okay with it. But there was nothing, just more laughter and easy conversation. It was like this was normal, like Steve’s sudden affection wasn’t something to question.

I didn’t know how to respond to it, didn’t know if I wanted to respond to it. 

After a wild night with the group, I practically stumbled into my room, still feeling the effects of my drinks. I barely remember hitting the pillow before I was out cold. The following day, this unfamiliar warmth was beside me, and I could hear the softest snoring in my ear.

I blinked, groggy and confused, slowly turning my head to see Steve, lying in my bed. His arm was draped over me, and he was shirtless. My breath caught in my throat. What the hell?

Carefully, I inched out from under his arm, moving as slowly as possible so I wouldn’t wake him. My mind raced, trying to remember if I had invited him into my bed last night. Had I? No, I couldn’t have. I didn’t do stuff like that. Or, at least, I didn’t think I did. But everything was fuzzy.

I tiptoed out of the room and into the hallway, my heart still pounding as I tried to make sense of the situation. By the time I made it to the kitchen, I was practically shaking.

Natasha was already there, casually sipping her coffee like any other morning. Like nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

 I also bonded with Natasha in a way I hadn’t expected while on this trip. She started opening up more, dropping her usual aloofness, and I realized she wasn’t as hard to read as I’d initially thought. We talked more about life, and awkward moments and even shared a few laughs that made me feel a little more at ease while on this trip.

We sat together eating breakfast, and Natasha seemed more relaxed, telling me about how exhausting it could be keeping up appearances with their friend group, especially with Steve and Sharon always in the spotlight.

“I get it,” I said, nodding. “It’s like you’re always on, you know?”

Natasha smiled, but it was tired as if the weight of those expectations had never fully gone away. It made me feel a little less out of place, knowing that even within their circle, not everything was perfect.

We continued chatting about random things when I decided to ask the question that had been on my mind for days. “Hey, is it just me, or is Steve... I don’t know, acting different? Like, friendlier than usual?” 

Natasha shrugged it off, barely looking up from her plate. “Oh, he’s like that with everyone. Real touchy-feely. It's just Steve.”

I don’t remember him being like that back in University.

I frowned. Sure, Steve was always friendly, but this was different. Before I could push it further, Steve appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his pants barely buttoned like he had just rolled out of bed. He looked at us with a grin. “You guys started breakfast without me?”

I froze as he bent down and kissed my cheek quickly, then moved over to Natasha and gave her a peck on the top of her head. She stiffened before reverting to a more relaxed position. She looked at me, her expression almost smug as if to say, See? Told you.

But I wasn’t buying it. The entire interaction was already so weird. Too familiar. Too uncomfortable. But I kept my doubts to myself. 

By the afternoon, everyone had scattered to do their own thing, and the villa felt a little too quiet for my liking. Needing a breather, I wandered out for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help me clear my head. No destination in mind, just the need to escape for a bit.

As I strolled along the path near our villa, I noticed a man lounging on the porch of the neighboring property, casually sipping from an iced coffee. He caught my eye and waved me over with a lazy smile.

"Afternoon," he greeted, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "You look like someone who's just been subjected to one too many rich-people conversations. Tell me, how long until you snap and start throwing caviar at their faces?"

I snorted, surprised at his bluntness. "Oh, I’m, uh… actually with them."

I wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I guess my clothing didn’t look as fancy as everyone else I was with.

“Lloyd”, he introduced himself. He raised an eyebrow, eyes covered by sunglasses pretending to clutch his chest dramatically. "No! Say it ain’t so. You’re one of them? And here I was, thinking I’d found a sane person in this gated paradise."

I laughed nervously, unable to help myself. "I guess I blend in well, then?"

He smirked. "Sure, if ‘blending in’ means looking like you’d rather be elsewhere. Let me guess, they’re already planning which island to buy next while you’re just trying to figure out how not to roll your eyes?"

"It’s not that bad," I replied, though my smile probably gave me away.He chuckled. "Don’t worry, I’m not judging. I’ve met their type. The kind who consider ‘roughing it’ to mean forgetting their designer sunglasses. God forbid they experience a single unfiltered moment."

“Aren’t you one of them?” I asked. Crossing my arms. It seemed like he was here with his own personal Villa, so I had no reason not to believe that he was no better than the ‘rich kids’, I’d been spending time with.

“Only half,” he responds. “I lived with my mom in Brooklyn, New York, for most of my life, and Papa Bear decided he wanted to be a father. Turns out he’s loaded.”

I raised my brows, not expecting that. 

He smiled, his mustache was almost endearing. “Well, don’t just stand there, come have a seat.” He pats the chair next to him, the invitation as casual as his grin. I hesitate for a second, but then the thought hits me—what’s the harm in learning more about my temporary neighbor? I needed a break from everybody else and it was refreshing to meet someone outside of that.

I step forward and sit, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and ease.

I wasn’t sure when my light flirting with Lloyd had turned into actual interest. Maybe it was his dark humor, or maybe it was just that he was so different from everyone else in my life, grounded. He wasn’t part of Steve’s wealthy, entitled world. It felt refreshing, something I didn’t even know I needed until now. 

 He leaned back, eyeing me thoughtfully. " What’s the story? How’d you end up with the royal brats?"

Before I could answer, a familiar voice called out my name. I looked up to see Steve, standing in front  me with his usual confident grin, though there was something more possessive in the way his eyes clung to me.

"Lunch is almost ready," Steve said, not even glancing at Lloyd. "We should head back." He point over his shoulder to our villa.

I was caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, but I quickly introduced them, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Oh, uh, Steve, this is Lloyd. He’s renting the villa next door."

Lloyd stood and offered his hand, smirking as they shook hands. "Nice to meet you. So, you must be the one keeping our girl here trapped in luxury hell."

Steve’s expression didn’t change, but there was a noticeable tightening of his jaw. "Something like that," he replied, his tone smooth but clipped.

Their handshake lingered a second too long, each of them standing tall, as if silently sizing each other up. Lloyd didn’t back down, though his grin stayed playful, almost like he enjoyed ruffling Steve’s feathers.

Steve’s turned toward me "We should go. Don’t want to miss lunch."

I barely had time to say goodbye to Lloyd before Steve was pushing me back toward the villa dropping his arm over my shoulder on the way there. As we walked, Steve leaned down, whispering, "You’re too sweet for your own good."

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

He didn’t answer, just gave me a look that sent a small shiver down my spine, before we continued walking, leaving me wondering what had really just happened.

The drinks were definitely stronger that night. I could feel the warmth spreading through me, my head swimming just enough to make everything feel a little too slow, a little too blurry. The laughter around me was still loud and bright, but I was barely holding on. Steve must have noticed because, without saying anything, he stood up and gently pulled me to my feet, guiding me back toward the house.

I barely remember the walk inside. My body felt like it was made of lead, each step heavier than the last. By the time we made it to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even think about changing into pajamas. I just rolled over, letting my eyes close. Sleep was right there, pulling me under, but something made me crack an eye open.

Steve was pulling off his shirt, tossing it aside with his sandals. His movements were casual, like this was normal for him, like he belonged here. The lights clicked off, and before I could say anything, I felt the bed dip beside me as he climbed in.

“Steve… go to your room,” I mumbled, trying to form the words properly, but they came out thick and slurred. I knew I should’ve been pushing him out, but I couldn’t make my body cooperate. Then his arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. His warmth was overwhelming, and every part of me knew this wasn’t right.

But I was so tired

 My brain told me to fight it, to deal with him, but my body refused to move. I’d deal with this tomorrow, I promised myself. I’d give him hell in the morning.

For now, though, I’ll just closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take over

The next morning, I woke up alone, feeling groggy with a mild headache and my body aching in a way I hadn’t expected. For a second, I forgot Steve had been in my bed last night, but the room's quiet made me realize I was alone now. I groaned as I sat up, my head pounding a little too loudly, and all I could think about was finding some Tylenol and going back to bed.

Except I didn’t have any Tylenol. Of course, I didn’t think I’d drink this much on this trip, so I hadn’t packed anything for a hangover. I could ask one of the girls. Pepper seemed like the type to be prepared, but we weren’t exactly close, so I decided to go with Natasha. Maybe she’d have something.

I dragged myself out of bed and over to Natasha’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and soft music was coming from inside. I hesitated momentarily, not wanting to barge in, but I needed something for my head, so I nudged the door open.

 And immediately regretted it.

There, in the middle of the bed, were Natasha and Bruce, naked as the day they were born and completely entangled in each other. My brain barely had time to process what I saw before I quickly closed the door, my heart racing. I stood there momentarily, holding my breath, praying they didn’t see me. The lack of any sudden movement or panic behind the door told me I was in the clear.

I shut the door as silently as I could, ensuring they had their privacy, and retreated to the kitchen. My headache still pounded, and now I was too embarrassed to ask for anything. I figured I could make myself some tea instead and hope that would help.

As the tea brewed, I searched the villa for any kind of pain relief—Tylenol, ibuprofen, Vicodin, anything. But I came up short. Of course, this fancy villa didn’t have any necessities like that. By the time I finished rummaging through the place, my tea was ready, and I grabbed it, deciding to take it outside for some fresh air.

I stepped out by the pool, hoping for a quiet moment to rest my head. But someone had already beaten me to it.

Peter.

He was sitting by the water, looking out at the horizon. I felt awkward, like I was interrupting something, so I mumbled an apology, ready to leave him to his thoughts.

"Don't worry," Peter said, turning his head to look at me. "You can sit with me if you want."

I hesitated for a second, but then I decided to stay. I sat across from him, sipping on my tea, and we fell into some small talk. Nothing too deep, just idle conversation about the villa, the weather, the usual. 

But the more we talked, the more curious I became. My mind kept circling back to something nagging at me since I arrived. Finally, I couldn’t help myself.

“Whatever happened to Clementine?” I asked.

The moment the name left my lips, Peter’s entire demeanor changed. His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing slightly. There was a stiffness in the air now, thick with tension.

I remember when Peter came to university with a girlfriend, MJ. But they’d broken up, and then there was Clementine. I remembered how inseparable they seemed, always affectionate, always together. It was hard to picture them apart, and yet, Clementine hadn’t been around this trip. No one had mentioned her.

I quickly added, noticing how tense Peter had become, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

The air between us hung heavy with the weight of my question.

Peter sighed and waved off my concern. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost casually, he added, "She went crazy."

I blinked, unsure what to say, but he continued before I could ask.

“When we both graduated, I was supposed to start mentoring under my father, you know? And Clementine, she landed a job right out of university. Everything seemed to be going great. Then, I proposed.” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “She rejected me. She said she wanted us to be more ‘stable,’ which didn’t make sense to me because we were both financially secure. But apparently, there were other types of stability we didn’t have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the frustration evident in his voice. “A month later, she breaks up with me. At first, I just let it go. We were done, right? But then I started hearing these rumors about how she lost the lease on her apartment and got fired from her job. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. We weren’t together anymore. It wasn’t my problem.”

Peter’s gaze drifted away, his voice quieter now. “Next thing I know, I get a call from her parents. They were begging me for help. She’d ended up in a psych ward, and they couldn’t afford the treatment, and they made too much money for government assistance but not enough to cover her medical bills. So, I stepped in.”

He glanced at me, his eyes darkening with the memory. “You should’ve seen her, Kiwi. She’d lost so much weight; it was like she was disappearing from the inside out. I couldn’t just leave her like that. So, I took custody, her parents transferred her power of attorney, and Now, she lives with me at my place.”

I stared at him, shocked. I had no idea things had gotten so bad with Clementine. It was the complete opposite of the girl I remembered.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “The thing is, she can’t talk to anyone else. I seem to be one of the only people she can communicate with. So, I’m careful when I bring others to my place. I don’t want to upset her.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” I said softly, unsure what else to say. It felt the wrong thing to say, but it was all I had.

He gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. She’s doing better now, but... she still finds it difficult to leave the house. I’ve been doing everything I can, but I get pretty protective myself. Probably too much, honestly. I’m working on it.”

I didn’t know what to think. I hadn’t expected any of this. It was hard to imagine Peter caring for Clementine like that, to think of her in such a fragile state. The whole situation felt like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sympathy for him.

"You're a good person for helping her," I finally said, unsure what else to offer. Peter just nodded the heaviness of the conversation lingering between us.

[chixkencxrry]

some of y’all shit be reading like character ai…not suspicious at all…

[naturalthrone22]

😭😭😭 how dare you hurt me like this?My sweet little omega…my heart is broken jaggedly. Why is Steve so mean to her she’s such a tender hearted little baby? Don’t mind me as I cry like a softie over here.

Steve is so possessive and I usually find that so hot but he’s straight up mean to her (me). Like he’s so fine and daddy for sure but if he toned it down then my heart wouldn’t hurt so bad. He’s so cruel for no reason and the sad thing is she would be everything he needed if he’d chill out a bit. The pictures to his friends?! So heartless! He confuses me like one minute he’s so possessive and controlling then the next he laughs at her like she’s nothing and showing his friends pictures if her like that?! You’ve killed my dark heart and I don’t know what to do. If he wants to possess her so bad then why does he show her off like that? Is it the pride of snatching her up?

Peter is such a sweetheart but he stands no chance against Steve. Like none unless he went to the authorities but Steve has money right? He could fight it and especially if he forces her to agree with him.

He scares me, one minute he’s a psycho and the next he’s joking. I can’t keep up with his mood swings. Neither can omega.

Sorry for rambling, I’m just so invested in this dynamic! You got me hooked and I can’t stop reading. It’s brilliant🖤

preying on you tonight part 2

part ii - hunt you down

Pairing: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

Warnings: smut, dark themes, a/b/o themes, daddy!kink, noncon, dubcon, extreme dumbification, physical violence, somno, noncon filming and sharing of pictures without consent, dark!Steve Rogers, bullying, Steve is really mean in this, jealousy, breeding kink, size difference, unbalanced power dynamic, humiliation, seriously Steve is super mean, and reader is really naive, minors do not interact!

Summary: After falling prey to the biggest, most menacing alpha on campus, you find that Steve Rogers is nowhere near done with you. (This is a direct sequel to Preying on You Tonight.)

It’s the most pleasant and sating sleep you’ve had in a long time. You wake up with sunlight pouring over your exposed body, your sheets and blankets pushed to the side and a light sheen of sweat on your skin. It’s a warm morning – you know that before you’ve even opened your eyes. And your body feels relaxed, well-rested, muscles sore but it’s a good kind of sore.

Your eyes flutter open as the memories of last night come flooding back to you. Steve, so domineering and direct, the way he’d had his way with you, how you’d liked it. And Peter. Fuck. Poor Peter. You push the thought of your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) out of your head – it pains you too much to think of how embarrassed and hurt he must have felt.

Instead, you remember Steve’s words, soft and cajoling as they had lulled you to sleep the night before, trapped cosily in his muscular embrace under the covers: “I wasn’t lying when I said you’re mine, omega. From now on, it’s all me. Got it?”

Keep reading

[planetallure]

⁺‧₊˚ 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

[hansensgirl]

☠️ — 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary. | Steve Rogers and his wife have a precarious arrangement in which she can have as many affairs as she likes, as long as she doesn’t ask for a divorce. But a man like him only has so much patience. And there you are, his child’s babysitter, too sweet to resist.

pairings. | Dark!Steve Rogers x baby-sitter!fem!reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (brief), Peggy Carter x numerous OMCs (implied/mentioned).

warnings. | NON/DUB-CON (leaning more towards dubious consent), smut, age gap, Halloween celebrations, deceit, manipulation, Steve is mean to his wife, obsession, possessiveness, implied murder (not the reader), mentions of masturbation (m), fingering (f), kissing, nipple play, Sir kink, mild Daddy kink, creampie, dirty talk, power dynamics/imbalance, praise, mild degradation, pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, baby, love), missionary, rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of riding, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~4.8k

author’s note. | hello! happy belated halloween! i know i’m a bit late—i’m sorry. here’s the dark!steve fic i was talking about. it’s a Deep Water!AU. please enjoy and heed the warnings! thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing and putting up with me! let me know what you think. thank you for reading! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

The leaves fall apart underneath the pace of his feet. The hill slopes downwards, and the branches snap and hit the ground. Steve keeps pushing—keeps running even though he’s long devolved from a jog. The burn in his lungs is beautiful. He’s breathless.

For once, he doesn’t have to think about little Sarah and her mother. He doesn’t have to worry like a housewife, even though he was once the man of the house.

Millions in revenue. Two vacation homes. Endless income. But it’s never enough for her.

When Steve reaches the creek, he stops. The Apple watch on his wrist clocks in an unhealthy amount of steps. Unhealthy for everyone else, at least. He’s always been above average, and now he’s just like the rest.

Another greying head in the sea of a crowd. Another typical client his shrink has with the same old problems—a cheating wife, a midlife crisis.

His phone buzzes, and Steve half-expects a reminder he doesn’t need. But it’s better—so much better than he could ever predict.

It’s you—your name with a heart. His spouse doesn’t even have that—she’s just got her entire government name with “wife” in parentheses.

Hi, Mr. Rogers. Hope you enjoyed your weekend! I wanted to confirm that I’m coming tonight. I texted Mrs. Rogers yesterday, but I haven’t received a reply yet. Sorry to be pushy. I just need to know in time. Thanks, and Happy Halloween! 🎃

He sighs. He’s never understood why you always go to Peggy first, even though you’ve seen her incompetency more than you do your own family. He’ll have a talk with you tonight—while Peggy is out on a date with her latest suitor.

Hey, honey. I hope your weekend is as wonderful as you are. Yes, we’re still on for tonight. Don’t worry about my wife. From now on, just come to me, okay? Be here by 7:00, please. Thanks. Happy Halloween! 👻

Steve replies a few minutes later, but you read his message immediately. The timestamp makes him smile. Soon, the ‘typing’ icon pops up and following it is your message.

Great, thank you so much! See you then :)

You even leave a ‘heart’ on his text message; he does the same to yours. A sigh escapes the older man’s chest. His heart has returned to its regular rate, and the sweat on his back has cooled.

The scene before him is gorgeous—but doesn’t even hold a candle to your beauty. The thought of you is more addictive than any illicit substance. It calms him down when he needs to and riles him up at the worst times.

Steve says it’s not fair. Peggy shouldn't have all the fun with her boyfriends—even when her husband gets rid of them quicker than need be. It’s exhausting to deviate from law enforcement for a woman who doesn’t care about her own family.

She gets to devise grand schemes and say mean words to him. She doesn’t bother with her own daughter. She doesn’t lift a finger or pay for a thing with money she earned. Steve has to live in the shadows—and he’s tired of it.

The almost 50-year-old man follows his usual trail back home. Sirens pass behind him, heading toward some emergency that he undoubtedly has nothing to do with. Not this time, at least.

He feels like a dog in the manger. Everyone can have Peggy (to a certain extent), but he can’t have anyone himself.

Fake cobwebs and pumpkins sit outside houses on each side of the road. It’s the spookiest night of the year, yet you have no plans. No parties to attend with some stupid little boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you the way he would.

When Steve unlocks the front door, he finds his wife’s heels strewn on the floor and his daughter watching cartoons in the living room. He kisses Sarah’s head and ensures she’s eaten the entirety of her breakfast. He tried his best with ghost-shaped pancakes, though they turned out more like blobs than anything. She doesn’t mind at all.

Sarah’s a brainiac, her new hobby being those kits that teach you how to hook wires into potatoes and other vegetables. Steve applauds her creations every time she shows them off, noting the little technological genius in her that he must’ve contributed to.

That is, if he’s her biological father.

The television screen plays her choice of cartoons, with a Halloween theme for the special day. He smiles when she laughs before heading upstairs.

Peggy has the largest room with the nicest furniture. She spends little time there unless she’s getting ready to go out or recovering from a hangover.

Steve knocks on her door. Despite there being no answer, he unlocks it and lets himself in. His wife is wide awake, eye makeup smudged a bit, but she’s wearing her signature jeans with a tank top.

She turns around and smiles at the sight of him. “What do you think?” she asks, gesturing to the costume she has laid out.

It’s a vampire—that’s as much as he gathers. The little voice in his head tells him how fitting it is—Peggy has sucked the life out of him for the last seven years.

“Perfect,” Steve tells her, giving her his most forced smile, and they both know she sees right through it.

“Good. And what are you going as?” she questions, turning her back to him. He genuinely contemplates this for a second.

For the last few years, he’s always worn a cheap cape and said he’s a superhero. But he’s tired of the same thing all the time.

“I’m not sure. I’ll come up with something, though. What time are you leaving?” Steve asks. “Oh, probably around six. Don’t wait up for me. You’ll take Sarah trick-or-treating, right?” Peggy smiles, unwilling to take ‘no” for an answer.

Steve says nothing and simply leaves. He takes his phone out of his pocket—sleek screen and a photo of you and Sarah as one of his wallpapers—and pulls up his conversation with you.

Hey, hon. Do you mind coming a bit earlier? 6:30 will do.

He doesn’t even have to wait for your reply.

Sure! Do you want me to stay the night, too? I don’t mind.

Always diligent. Always a sweetheart.

Please do. The door will be unlocked.

You give his message a thumbs-up, and he sighs.

Tonight will be the night. Tonight, he’ll finally get what he wants, and no one can stop him. Not even you.

You give the door a knock three times, even though you’re more than welcome to simply enter. It feels wrong, though. Too familiar, too casual.

Halloween is one of your favourite holidays. It’s a day full of excitement and creativity, and the month leading up to it is terrific. The turning leaves and the cold weather that lets you wear your coziest sweaters. The candy is the cherry on top of the entire delicacy.

You’ve never been on for extravagant costumes due to your procrastination. Tonight, you’re an angel. You don an all-white get-up; a lace dress, sheer tights, and matching shoes. You have a borrowed halo on your head and floppy wings on your back. It’s the best you can do for now.

Steve opens the door a few moments later, and he’s wearing a black suit. His hair is gelled, and he has a toothy grin—a change from his usual scowl. You smile at the sight of him.

“Happy Halloween!” you cheer, and he laughs. “Happy Halloween, sweetheart. What are you supposed to be? The devil?” he jokes. “Hardy-har-har. I’m an angel. But what are you? A CEO?” you ask, raking your eyes up and down his body.

The older man basks in your attention, his ears burning red.

“Actually, I’m a groom. Something different from the superhero thing, you know? It was the only thing I could come up with,” he sheepishly admits, and you wave his shyness away. “I love that! I never see anyone do something simple yet unique. But no decorations?”

You glance back at his front lawn and see nothing but withered flowers and yellow leaves from the neighbour’s over-arching tree. His porch simply has a bowl of candy with a threatening “TAKE ONE (1)” sign, assumingly written by Sarah.

“Nope. But there’s always next year!” he reassures. You giggle and nod your head. Your cheeks burn from smiling so much. Do you find him amusing? Or is it forced? Steve has numerous questions running through his mind, some exciting the butterflies in the attic that is his stomach, and some boiling his blood.

“C’mon in. No jacket? You must be freezing. You’re better than that, honey,” he chides like the father he is. He locks the door behind you—chain and all. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold,” you admit, removing your shoes. Steve takes them from you and places them on the rack where Peggy’s usual ankle boots would be.

You note the absence of her items and the lack of noise from the television. You don’t pay them much mind.

“Ah, rookie mistake. If you want, you can borrow a jacket from me,” he offers, picking up a stray black feather from the floor. You set your small backpack on the bottom step and follow his lead.

“So… What’s Sarah’s costume? She kept talking about being a minion, and then a cow, so I’m not too sure,” you laugh, and Steve does the same. “Peggy wanted her to be one of those Mario characters, but you know Sarah. Tonight, she’s Albert Einstein. Including the wig, of course.”

When you enter the clean living room, you expect to see her adorable face dressed as the notorious physicist. But she’s not there—and neither are the family photos.

“Um, sir, where is she?” you question, and he gestures to one of the sofas. You take a seat and wait for his return. He comes back with two drinks and hands you one of them. “Sarah is at her grandma’s. Peggy is at one of those parties she always goes to,” Steve coolly explains.

“Oh, are we going there? Or do you want me to stay back and give candy out?” You take a sip of your drink—a cherry limeade you once raved about to him. The sparkling water fizzles on your tongue. “No, she’ll be going trick-or-treating with her cousins.”

There’s a beat. A moment. And it lasts for a while.

“Uh, so what am I doing here?” you query. “Sweetheart. I’m a bit disappointed. You probably think that’s all I want you here for, don’t you? C’mon, you’re more than a babysitter to me.”

Steve places emphasis on his last word. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I really don’t understand what you’re implying,” you profess, downing more of your drink out of sheer nervousness. Are you being fired? Are they moving? Did you do something wrong?

“Oh, honey, c’mere,” he says, even though he comes to you. He moves from his position across from you—standing tall in his full, towering height. Steve sits down next to you and places his large, warm hand on your cold left thigh. “Don’t be scared. M’not gonna hurt you. You’re not in trouble,” he says in a low tone.

When he’s this close to you, you can see the details of his face entirely. Whenever you’ve tried to admire him from afar, it’s like he knows when you’re looking.

“You’re so sweet… So pretty. I bet you’re nice and soft, too, hm? And you’ll be a good girl for me?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. You open your mouth to say something to him, but you’re quickly shut up with a searing kiss.

Steve presses his lips against yours, and it’s better than anything he could have ever imagined. The fantasies he’s had during those late nights or showers with his fist wrapped around his cock don’t even compare.

He takes charge, pushing his tongue inside your mouth and exploring within. His strong hands scoop you into his lap, one of them holding the back of your head. You lean back as Steve’s forwardness dominates you. You’re not sure what to do, so you place your palms on his shoulders and use a bit of force to try to push him away.

The married man doesn’t budge. It’s getting hard to breathe, and you feel like he’s sucked the air out of your lungs. You sink your teeth down lightly on what you think is his tongue, and he hisses as he pulls away.

“Sir– We can’t do this. It isn’t right. I– I mean, you’re my boss, and you have a wife—and poor Sarah, she doesn’t deserve this–”

“Fuck Peggy. Do you really think she cares? I don’t love her, never have. I only love you, darling. Now, what you just di–”

“Love me? Mr. Rogers, I think you’re mistaken. Maybe it’s just because we’re alone, or you and Peggy have been distant, but you don’t love me, Sir. I won’t mention this to anyone, I swear. And I’ll find another job if you’d like,” you breathlessly explain, shaking your head.

Steve shushes you with a snarl. “You’re not leaving me.” His voice is stern, and his tone says it all—there’s no arguing. “Please,” you try to get off the older man’s lap, but he holds onto you tightly. “We’re perfect for each other, honey. Don’t you see? Sarah loves you, and you love her. And look! I’m your groom, and you’re my angelic wife,” he exclaims, pulling the halo and ripping the wings off.

You gasp at his strength and audacity. You’d try to fight him, but you know you’d end up more hurt than anything. “Please don’t make this difficult,” he demands, adding your name. The mention makes you flinch, as he rarely says it.

“Look at those eyes… All blown out. I bet you’re soaking, aren't you?” Steve asks, but you don’t reply. His blue irises seem much darker in the dim lighting. His pupils are wide, and it’s like looking at a man who’s been possessed. “You’re probably making a mess of your panties, and we’ve barely even started. Does that always happen when you’re around me? Gosh, I bet you smell so sweet.”

His words make you whimper, and he smiles. “Oh, and look at those perfect tits,” he hums, groping them. Your nipples are stiff as peaks, and the rough touch from Steve has you shuddering. “Pl– Please,” you beg as he pulls at the nubs. The pain teeters on pleasure, and you squeeze your thighs to put an end to the thrumming at your core.

“‘Please,’ what, sweetie? Hm?”

“Please, Sir,” you whisper.

The title makes him groan. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting you,” Steve expresses. You don’t want to know. “Ever since we met… D’you remember that floral dress you wore? That you kept pulling up? God, I wanted to take you right there…”

You remember that day all too well. Seeing Mr. Rogers in all his glory was riveting, and the slight crush you developed lives on. Now—you’re not sure. Your brain is a mess, and you can’t think straight.

Your boss lifts you up bridal style, and he doesn’t let this go unnoticed. “See? We were meant for each other, honey. And we don’t even need a wedding.”

He sets you down on the bed in the room on the main floor. You’ve stayed here from time to time when Peggy likes to come out at two in the morning, and Steve is beyond worried for her.

Was it all a farce? You remember those times and how he never called her or insisted on picking her up.

Steve’s hands pull at your cheap dress, and he rips it down the middle. You regret your choice of not wearing a bra, but either way, it would’ve done nothing.

He cups your breasts, and you moan at the touch. He latches his mouth onto one nipple as he plays with the other. His mouth is skilled—his tongue flicking and teeth slightly grazing the sensitive skin.

Mr. Rogers’ fingers are just as talented. They pinch, pull, and twist at your other peak simultaneously. He switches eventually, and you’re a puddle beneath the imposing man.

Your back is arched slightly, and you’re practically pushing your chest into his face, and he chuckles. “So desperate. You need me so badly, don’t you?” he says, nodding his head and smiling when you mimic him for a split second. “Atta girl—so good for me.”

Steve pulls back, and you whine. He soothes you and pulls his jacket off. You can see the ripples of muscle beneath the white collared shirt. He unbuckles his belt with swiftness. You gnaw on your bottom lip despite its swollenness.

Soon, he’s back on you. Your boss hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and he pulls them down your legs, admiring the strings of slick that break from the distance. He pushes the cloth into his pocket, and you clench when you think of the things he’ll do with it later on.

In your mind is a tiny voice that chides your every wrongdoing—how you haven’t fought back as much as you should. But there’s a louder one that was once lovesick over the married man before you, and it’s far more convincing.

Steve spreads your legs and curses at the sight of your sopping cunt. You involuntarily clench from the exposure. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. One arm keeps him up, and the other bends your knees, giving him better access.

His fingers slide against your folds, collecting wetness as he caresses your lips. You let out a pleasured sigh, secretly wishing he would stop tormenting you and just get it over with. “So sensitive, too. I bet you’ll make such a mess on my cock.”

You never knew Steve could have such a filthy mouth—and God, do his words have your head spinning.

He quickly finds your swollen, throbbing clit and lightly touches it. The sensations on your little pearl are mild, but they’re enough to have you writhing beneath Steve. He draws light circles with the tips of his fingers. Your mouths brush against each other, and he teases you until you’re whispering pleas against his lips.

“Shh… It’s okay, love,” he reassures. Once he knows he has you worked up enough, Steve pushes the first digit into your pussy. The intrusion has you gasping, which turns into a whimper when he shoves another in. “Lookatcha, honey. You’re takin’ my fingers like a champ. This cunt is so tight, though. I’m really gonna have to stretch ya to fit my cock in there.”

The idea of his large cock barely fitting inside you makes your muscles involuntarily constrict against Steve’s fingers.

It takes a moment for you to adjust to the intrusion, though your walls welcome him like a familiar friend. His fingers are longer and thicker than yours, and with ease, he reaches that sweet spot most boys your age miss.

Eventually, Steve begins to fuck you on his hand. His digits slide in and out of you with ease as he picks up the pace. The skin glistens from your slick, and it’s a sight to behold. He creates a scissor motion with his two fingers every now and then, stretching you out while having you at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long for your moans to get louder while your face forms a frown of pleasure. The squelching sound of your cunt and that build-up just above your core are tell-tale signs that you’re about to come. “Oh, sir…!” you wail, and Steve picks up the pace.

“I can feel that cunt clenching on me, honey. God, you’re so beautiful this way. C’mon, make a mess on my hand. Come for me,” he rasps, rubbing his cheek against yours.

Your eyes squeeze shut when you come undone on Mr. Rogers’ hand. Your aching hole squeezes his fingers, and he makes you ride your orgasm out. Your back arches, and you let out a loud moan as pleasure shocks every nerve in your body. The lewd sounds of your cunt are noisy.

You find yourself immediately wanting more, even though you shouldn’t.

“Good girl—such a good girl for me,” Steve coos before slowly sliding his fingers out your channel. Your inner walls already miss the presence of his digits. You struggle to catch your breath, but in the midst of it all, you hear your boss pull the zipper to his pants down.

“I can’t wait to get inside of you, sweetie. I need you so badly it hurts,” he says while pressing kisses against the side of your neck. Steve climbs on top of you as he frees his aching cock from the confines of his boxers.

He grips himself by the base, his entire hand wrapped around his hardness. He gives himself a few strokes as pre-cum leaks from his slit, sliding down his bulbous head. His size is marvellous, a raging purplish-red with a thick base. Steve slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, and you flinch from the unexpected jolt of pleasure. “Fuck…” he curses.

“Are you looking, sweetie? This is such a special moment for us—I hope you remember it well,” he hums in your ear, and out of your natural obedient instinct, you lift your head to where you two are about to be connected. The sight of Steve’s cock makes you whimper. “Shit, what a good little slut.”

He drags the head of his dick through your dripping folds, and then he pushes in. The sudden stretch causes your skull to fall back against the bed. You try to close your legs, but Steve’s presence makes that impossible. He refuses to let you hide what’s his.

The older man completely sheathes himself inside your pussy. The squelching sound has you cringing in shame, but that quickly disappears when the feeling of fullness takes over. Steve’s balls touch your ass when he bottoms out, and your breathing is rapid from the sensuality of it all.

A hand wraps around your throat—though gentle, it scares you at first. Your eyes meet with Mr. Rogers’, and he looks at you with what appears to be adoration.

“You feel just like heaven,” he simply tells you. “I’m never letting you go after this—never was plannin’ on it, anyway.”

Before you can even process his words, Steve starts to fuck you. His pace is slow at first, and he hits your sweet spot with ease—a feat most boys your age are incapable of. Your moans are wanton and loud, teetering on the verge of pathetic for someone who was fighting against him at first.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and your reaction makes Steve smile. “You love this, don’t you? Yeah, always knew you needed a real man to fuck this cunt.”

His thrusts are a bit quicker now, and he pulls in and out of your wet pussy roughly. The sound of skin on skin is thunderous, nearly covering up the wet noises from your stickiness. His thick cock shines from your juices. Steve ruts into you like a starved man—because he is one.

His pelvic bone hits your clit every now and then, and his swollen, heavy balls are against the curve of your ass. He’s relentless in claiming you as his, sucking, biting, and licking at the skin on your neck.

“Oh my God—Steve–” you mewl, the pleasure blooming inside you almost too much to handle.

“What’s wrong, honey? Are you gonna come again?” Steve questions with faux pity. He punctuates each word with a thrust, fat cock pushing into your tightness. “What a pathetic little slut, making such a big mess on her boss’ cock. And I’m married too. You just can’t help it, can you?” he teases, and his filthy words have you squeezing his length from the filthiness. He lets a groan out from the feeling, and he keeps the fervour going.

That elastic band inside your stomach begins to tighten, and you can feel another orgasm build up quickly. “Go ahead. Make a mess on Daddy’s dick, baby,” he urges, and as if on command, you cream around his thickness.

Your back arches off the bed, but you don’t go anywhere far with Steve’s chest keeping you pressed down. Your hardened nipples rub against the cloth of his shirt, and the added friction makes your climax all the more breathtaking. The older man pounds into your cunt vigorously.

Stars appear in your vision until you come back down. Mr. Rogers doesn’t stop fucking you, forcing you to endure the overstimulation. Even with your legs shaking, he refuses to give up. “Good girl—such a good whore for Daddy,” he praises. The tip of his cock pummels against your G-spot continuously.

Your tits bounce with each push of Steve’s cock. Sometimes, he grazes your cervix, but the mild pain dulls away when he presses chaste kisses to your face and brutalizes your g-spot. “‘S too much,” you mumble, legs involuntarily trying to close. “Nu-uh—It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna fill up that pretty pussy real soon,” he says, and as if on cue, there’s a change in the way he pounds into your cunt.

His thrusts become more sloppy, but they keep the same passion and desperation that he started everything with. There’s an intensity you can’t describe because it just feels so fucking good. The hand on your neck moves and begins to caress the rest of your body. Your pulsating walls hug him, practically refusing to let go. Your skin is hot and sticky, just like his—if not more.

Wandering hands grope your body, going pliant underneath Steve. Guttural groans leave Steve’s mouth while you’re gasping endlessly. “Shit—you were made for taking this dick, sweetie. I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking down your thighs,” he promises, and the threat of it sounds terrific to your fucked-out mind.

“Be a good girl and soak Daddy’s cock one more time,” he orders. The blur between your previous climax and the one that takes you over now has your head spinning. You grasp the bedsheets from the overwhelming pleasure. A silent scream leaves your mouth, which Steve accompanies with a grunt followed by a string of curse words. “Fuck.”

You squeeze Steve’s length tightly, soaking him in your wetness. Electric shocks run down your spine and unto every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating for a split second. You’ve never come that hard—ever. It’s difficult to breathe, and Mr. Rogers is mean enough to make you take the euphoria he’s doling out.

Wetness stains the skin that surrounds where you two are filthily connected. Your ass is sticky, and some of your cream stains the trimmed hair at the base of Steve’s shaft. It’s a mess—one he intends on adding to with his semen.

His cock twitches inside your pussy, and with a final shove, he stills with his pelvis pressed against your clit. Steve’s balls clench, and he shudders as he reaches his own high. Ropes of cum spurt from the fat tip of the older man’s cock, painting your insides. The feeling makes you whimper as you’re filled to the brim with his seed.

For a few moments, Steve stays in that position, catching his breath while he recovers from his orgasm. Your eyes dance along his face, taking in the pinched yet relaxed look he dons.

Eventually, your boss resurfaces from the depths of his climax. You’re more than exhausted and have half a mind to fall asleep right then and there.

But the sound of the front door opening and closing shocks you from your stupor. Worry is written all over your features when Steve looks at you. “Aw, don’t worry, honey,” he hums, and though it may seem impossible, you can feel him get harder inside your pussy,

Whether it’s your evident fright or the thrill of getting caught, you’re not sure. Both make you dizzy.

Peggy’s notable accent slurs a call for Steve. “Think we should put on a show for her?” he jokes, grinding his cock further into your pussy.

You’re sure that no matter what you say, he won’t listen. And what will follow will be a nightmare you can’t escape.

But those thoughts ebb away when you hear your other boss curse a storm and abruptly leave, even though she hasn’t walked in on the pornographic scene that’s taking place in the guest room.

“Well, there’s always next time—if she’ll even make it,” Steve grumbles under his breath, but the words are too vague for you to dwell on them. “Think you’re up for round two, love? I wanna play with those tits while you ride my cock.”

For the nth time, your body betrays you and tells him your true desires. Either way, he still would’ve gotten what he wanted. Steve Rogers always gets what he wants.

[arpicityandneed]

My Turn

18+ f!reader. best friends steve and bucky. dirty talk. bisexual steve. bisexual bucky.

~

"Tell me again where you want it baby." Your new husband had you in his lap thumbing your clit while you rode him. Your thighs were shaking but you were desperate, tears of frustration on your pretty lashes as you balanced yourself with both hands on his shoulders.

"Inside, Stevie, please?" His hands were roaming over your body possessively, gripping the fat of your ass and thrusting his soaked cock up into you with every down stroke of yours.

"Don't make the sweet thing cry Stevie." Bucky groans as he palms himself through his slacks, waiting his turn for once in honor of your wedding night. Usually he and Steve would've flipped a coin or fought for who got to bully their way inside your pussy first.

"I'm not gonna Buck, she's just so pretty when she begs. My wife." Steve's baby blues were dancing with mischief as Bucky cursed.

"You met her first by accident, Rogers. I'm older-" Bucky started growling the same damn argument they'd been having since they decided they wanted a baby and therefore a wedding. (They were too old fashioned for anything else.)

"Boys, can we argue later?" You cut in breathlessly, and Steves arm wrapped around your waist. Your only warning before he took over- fucking you up and down his shaft like a rag doll as he groaned,

"Alright baby. I gotta do right by my Mrs don't I?" With the smuggest grin you'd ever seen his balls twitched, and spurt after spurt of cum filled you fluttering walls.

"Goddamnit, Stevie." You would've comforted your other boyfriend if you could focus. But Steve's thumb was rubbing your clit as you seized up, coming hard and milking his cock for all he had to give.

You collapsed against his chest.

"You gonna be good for Bucky baby? You got one more in you?" Steve murmured gently as he rocked you on his softening shaft, his cum leaking out of you and drenching his balls in your combined juices.

"Mhm. Want him inside too." You smiled as you kissed him, soft and sweet like you had several hours earlier in front of all your friends and family.

"My turn." You hadn't heard him move but you weren't surprised when you were lifted and bent over the massive bed, Bucky was hardly a patient man once he had the green light.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're dripping." Bucky's voice was hoarse. But Steve, who was laying down close enough for you to tongue at his soft cock, just snorted.

"Don't complain like you don't love it, jerk." Steve guided his shaft into your mouth and murmured softly, "Clean me up baby."

"'M not complaining punk, it's a compliment." You moaned around Steve as Bucky took one good lick of your stuffed pussy before straightening and dragging his cock head through the mess. "Your cum tastes better inside her by the way."

"Shut up, you love my cum anyway you can get it, Barnes."

"Maybe." One smooth thrust and you were full once more, and Bucky goes from teasing his boyfriend to cursing how good you feel. "I gotta say doll. You're kind of a slut."

"B-Bucky!" Your scolding would be more effective if your pussy didn't clench around him from his words and the memories flooding you brain of watching Bucky swallow down Steves cock.

"Greedy fucking pussy-" His moans were loud, shameless. "Back me up here Stevie."

"He's not wrong sweetie. Youre an absolute slut for us. But just us, yeah?" Steve sounds proud. Proud that on his wedding night his wife is being tag teamed by him and his best friend.

Fuck.

You were going to cum, hard and Bucky- the smug bastard- wasn't going to let it happen quietly.

"Someone likes being reminded how needy her pussy is. Clenching down so hard on me doll." Bucky fucked different than Steve. Harder, filthier. His hands were dragging you back onto his fat cock until the audible slap of his hips against your ass echoed around the room. He was getting close you could tell. His heavy balls were slapping against your clit, aching to add to the cum already slicking him inside you. "Should've waited till after the honeymoon to let me fuck her Steve."

His hand snaked around to find your clit and with quick tight circles over your swollen nub you came apart with a cry.

"Yeah, Buck? And why's that.." Steves eyes were narrowed like he was annoyed at being told what to do, but you knew the truth. His cock was growing hard in your mouth again. Bucky thrusted hard inside you before he started to unload, grinding into you as if to make sure his seed took first.

"Cause now we're never gonna know who knocked her up first till the baby's born."

[p3sephone]

Can’t run, can’t hide (Dark! Steve Rogers)

Summary: you try to get away from Steve, but things don't go as you expected.

Warnings: past abuse, past kidnapping, hints of torture and cutting, toxic relationship, delusion, forced affections, hints of victim blaming, future abuse implied. Please if you do not feel comfortable with dark themes, do not read. This character does not belong to me. Minors do NOT read. 

Note: it was meant to be a drabble. I've been on a pause for a very long time, any feedback is welcome. <3

You tried to grab as much as possible. You didn't have time to organize everything that passed through your hands inside the backpack, you just knew that you had to take the essentials. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't have put aside what you needed days before: he was always attentive to everything. Your every movement, look and word. You had to coordinate every little thing, try not to attract attention. After all, he paid attention to the details, which was why he had already discovered you the other five times. When he had decided to lock you up, you were ready to flee, you still had that fire inside that commanded you to do everything possible to get away. And you had tried, you had really tried, even to kill him. That didn't help either. None of the five attempts were really useful. He not only always managed to find out about your plans, but also understood when and how. It was as if no detail had ever really escaped him and he was playing with you, not you manipulating him. Then came the worst part, the punishments. Because of him you wore indelible scars, you tended to cover them with loose and comforting shirts, but you still had them on your skin. You no longer looked in the mirror, they were a constant reminder of how miserably your belief and being had been crushed by him. Then came the even worse part. You thought that corporal punishment was more than enough to make you obey and keep you calm, silent, but no. He needed something more, something of his times. He hurt you and every look from him made you live in fear, in the constant thought that you had done something wrong that would cost you another bruise on your body. Shortly after the punishments, you remembered that he didn't even give you time to hate him, to cry about yourself and how you couldn't escape once again. You remembered how he forced you to lie down with you, still with your wounds fresh with blood and your dirty clothes. It didn't matter what time it was or how you were dressed, but he had to show you his sick love. He forced you into his suffocating embrace and looked at you as if his life depended only on you, as if he really could have feelings for you. And then, he always said the same thing to you: “You know, I don't want this, I just want us to be happy. Don't make me do it again darling, okay? Tell me you're sorry." It was your undoing to get those words out of your mouth, and after five times, you gave up trying. But your mind couldn't adjust to that hell, you still remembered too well who you were before he kidnapped you, and you were a person with your own life, with control. You wanted those times back, before his attentive eyes could rest on your figure. With a shaky breath, you prayed that this was the right time. The backpack was completely full, filled with objects and memories that you needed to keep going. You didn't have the faintest idea of what to do, if you could go any further. Were you able to see the password of the system, the one that allows him to lock you up in four walls. It was sudden, your escape wasn't planned at all, but then you saw it. And all that context was too spontaneous, he was too furious and devastated to make it his proof. Steve was not a calculating person, he never was, and you paid for that too at your expense. From forced demonstrations of love to the good manners he demanded in all respects: those that have allowed you to become a more attentive and precise person, just to guarantee you the freedom that you already deserved. "Make it the right time, I beg you." You didn't actually talk to anyone, but you had to vent. You felt like you were freaking out and your hands were shaking as you hurried to the door. You knew well that the cameras were framing you, you knew that maybe Steve was watching you, but it wasn't of interest to you. He'd been on a mission for two days now, far too far to return quickly, even for him. You would have disappeared in time, or at least you hoped so as you stared for a few seconds at the camera pointing to the entrance. You entered the code into the code display and only realized you weren't breathing at all until you heard the door unlocking sound. It was open, you had it. Or maybe it was too soon? Maybe you were dreaming. You headed outside and started running. All around you you had only greenery, trees and no city signs. You were hopeful that there was something else nearby, but even if it wasn't, you vowed to kill yourself before you could even let Steve get his hands on you again. You knew this sixth time would cost you your sanity, it was your last chance. You ran for several minutes, then took a long break due to the little strength you had. You still walked for a long time, always aimlessly. You were exhausted and by now the sun was setting, but you didn't want to give up. You were going to move forward and continue down whatever path you were taking so that there was more distance between you and him. In hindsight, you would have defined yourself with one word: naïve. You knew your ride was over when it came upon you. Like he was waiting for you, but at the same time he had that look that told you he wasn't expecting it. You, on the other hand, felt your world falling apart. You didn't understand what you did wrong, what? “I didn't expect you to see the code, I'll give you that. But what I expected, even after all this time, was that I was stupid enough to think I wouldn't take precautions. Five times is a lot, too many, you know?” Steve spoke in a livid tone, and his eyes took on an even more glacial color. His arms were folded and he was several feet away from you, as if he were still holding back. Like he wants to give you a chance to redeem yourself and ask for forgiveness, like the good wife you should be to him. Instead, you chose to ask for the one thing that mattered to you. "How did you do?" it was a single broken voice, but Steve heard it. He sighed with a mix of surrender and exasperation, then leaned closer to you and looked at you like he was sorry. “You were already mine before I spoke to you. Today's technology is quite interesting, you know? I could have put you in a collar or something more humiliating like I was advised to keep an eye on you, but instead I just had a minor surgery done. It's under your skin, safe and where I know you can never get to remove it." That moment almost made your heart stop pounding. A chip? Did he know where I was all along? Your breaths began to become more and more labored and your vision filled with tears. The backpack, already quite heavy, became decidedly too much on your shoulders and you slipped it off. You too wanted to slip away, away from him and his pitying gaze. But you saw the patina under those blue eyes, he couldn't wait to teach you again what your responsibilities were at his side. And for the first time, you've never been terrified. Your broken voice began to be heard against your consent as you started to roll up the sleeves of your shirt. You started looking for any scars, anything that didn't relate to Steve's punishments. You started trying to scrape the skin off feeling the desperation coursing through your veins. He had taken everything from you, even the last shred of humanity. You were his property, you had nothing left. Steve approached with a concerned air, gripping your wrists tightly and stopping you from scratching the skin on your arms. “Stop it, it's okay, it's okay now. Let's go home and I'll take care of you baby, just listen to me-" "No!" you screamed furiously, trying with all the strength you had left in your body to move it. But moving Steve Rogers was a feat you could never have faced. You fought with everything you had, teeth, kicks, nails. Nothing worked, only Steve's gaze full of compassion, severity and so much disappointing love allowed you to keep fighting. Until even the physical forces left you and Steve managed to lift you up. “You've come a long way, you'll be tired and hungry. Today I'll cook, after dinner I'll still try to make you understand how lucky we are to be together. I'm lucky and happy, and I'm not going to throw that away just because you want your life back. That's over, no one is looking for you anymore, and now I've definitely shown you that you can't run away from me." He held you as if you were a bride, with such delicacy and devotion, but his gaze was simply sick. Because he believed every single thing that came out of his mouth and you knew that, sooner or later, the sixth detention would come.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 2

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Dividers by @Strangergraphics

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

The first week flew by faster than I expected. Every morning began with fancy breakfasts, the kind I only saw in magazines, avocado toast, fluffy omelets, and fresh fruit that looked like it was picked moments before being served. Sharon, of course, made sure everyone knew she was "so not into carbs anymore" while sipping on her detox tea. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes every time she said it.

After breakfast, it was always beach yoga. At first, I was reluctant to join in. Honestly, the idea of stretching out in front of everyone made me feel vulnerable, like they’d all be watching, waiting for me to slip up. But Steve wouldn’t let me bow out so easily.

“Kiwi, you’re being unfair if you don’t participate,” he’d said that first morning, his intense gaze pushing me to comply. I didn’t want o argue, so I went along.

Turns out, I didn’t completely hate it. I found that Natasha was really good at it, and Peter surprised me by being much more flexible than I’d thought possible. Thor and Bruce were always messing around, making snarky comments about “zen” while Jane and Pepper giggled on their mats. Even Sharon managed to keep her mouth shut long enough to focus on her poses, and since Steve chose to claim the mat right beside me, I felt her gaze wandering toward our direction every so often.

We did something new every day, snorkeling, paddle boarding, hiking through the lush landscape that stretched around the villa. One afternoon, Jane tried convincing me to join her and Thor on a boat trip to explore some nearby coves, but I declined, claiming I needed some alone time. Truthfully, the constant reminders that I didn’t quite belong were grating on me. I’d still catch the occasional pointed look between Sharon and Steve, or notice how the girls would subtly nudge me toward Peter at every opportunity. Notably, Sharon, Jane and Pepper. Natasha backed off once she realized I wasn’t into the idea.

Despite the tension, though, I had to admit, I was having fun. Even if I was still on the outside looking in.

One night, after a particularly long day, I overheard Sharon and Steve whispering, their voices hushed but heated. I couldn't make out everything, but toward the end, I could hear Steve’s voice clear as day “Yeah, well some promises are meant to be broken”

I left before I could be caught snooping, but hearing Steve and Sharon argue gave me a strange sense of satisfaction. For all her perfect appearances, maybe Sharon didn’t have it all under control after all.

On the seventh day, group had decided that they wanted to do a bonfire, and I had been tasked with starting the fire, which, of course, wasn’t going well. Every time I thought I had it, the flames would sputter out, leaving me more and more frustrated. Natasha sat nearby, casually chatting with Bruce, both of them too invested in their conversation to notice my issues with starting the fire.

Amidst my struggle, I briefly wondered if Bruce and Natasha had a thing, but before I could delve further into those thoughts Steve appeared at my side. “Need some help?” he asked, crouching down beside me.

I glanced up, heat rushed to my cheeks in embarrassment, but I nodded. “Yeah, I guess I’m not much of a fire-starter.”

He chuckled softly, taking over without a word. Within minutes, the flames were roaring, casting a warm, dancing light across the sand.

“See? Not as bad as you thought it’d be,” Steve said, standing back to admire his work, and in that moment, you knew he didn’t mean the fire.

I sighed, leaning back a little. “Yeah, I guess not. Thanks… for, you know, letting me stay. Even though you kinda forced my hand,” I added with a half-smile.

Steve smiled back, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Does that mean you’re staying for the whole trip?”

I paused, weighing my options. Part of me still wanted to run, but I wasn’t ready to face my parent yet. Especially now that this vacation was starting to take a better turn. “Yeah, I’ll stay,” I said at last.

He gave a small nod, satisfaction flickering across his face before turning back toward the group. Eventually, everyone joined me by the fire, settling in comfortably. Sharon nestled against Steve’s side, Tony teased Pepper while Jane laughed at a joke Thor was telling, and Peter casually slipped into the seat next to mine.

Steve handed me an unopened beer with a bottle opener, raising his own drink to a toast. “Here’s to the first week of vacation,” he announced. “And to Kiwi staying with us.” He looked my way with a smirk and a wink before bringing his attention back to Sharon.

Sharon shot me a look, something close to annoyance flickering in her eyes before she rolled them and muttered a dull “Yay.” Everyone else raised their bottles in unison, but I noticed Steve watching me, waiting.

I glanced down at the unopened beer in my hand. “I don’t really drink,” I said quietly, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. “Alcoholism runs in my family.”

It was a lie, but it was the excuse I always used when I felt pressured to drink. Steve didn’t back off, though. He just gave me a slow, almost calculating smile. “It’s just one beer, Kiwi. I promise I’ll keep an eye on you if you want a second.”

I hesitated, feeling the weight of everyone gaze. Then, almost against my better judgment, I shrugged popping the cap and taking a swig.

As I drank, I caught Peter watching me from the corner of my eye, his expression unreadable. The fire crackled loudly in the silence that followed, and for a moment, I thought I saw Natasha exchange a knowing glance with Bruce. But I brushed it off.

What’s one beer?

I stumbled into the villa, the world swaying a little more than I was used to. Three beers. Not drunk, but definitely tipsy. Everyone else was still outside, laughing and carrying on, and I just couldn't handle the thought of joining them in their level of drunken chaos. So, I waved them off with a lazy, "Goodnight," and made my way inside.

Each step felt heavier, like gravity was trying to pull me into the floor. I rarely drank this much. Usually, it was just a flute of champagne at some family. But three beers was something, I really wasn’t into.

When I finally made it to my room, I knew exactly how to navigate the dark to get to my bed. But my clothes... I couldn’t stand sleeping in my normal clothes, not even after a night like this. Just change, Kiwi, it’ll take a second, I thought, knowing full well that moving any more might send me falling.

It took everything I had to peel off my clothes, my fingers fumbling with fabric like I’d forgotten how to undress. When my clothes were finally off, I opted to just sleep in the nude, unable to fathom putting on pajamas without falling apart at the seems

Finally, I let myself collapse into the bed, my body sinking deep into the mattress. My head was spinning a bit, but sleep was wrapping around me like a warm blanket, pulling me in. “This isn’t so bad,” I thought, my eyelids heavy. *I just need to sleep it off...*

But then something felt... off.

My eyes fluttered open, and that’s when I saw it. A dark figure standing at the edge of my bed.

Panic shot through me, but I couldn’t move. My body wouldn’t respond. I was frozen, trapped in place, my chest tightening as fear flooded every inch of me. I tried to scream, to sit up, to do *anything*, but it was like my body had shut down. I could hear weird, muffled grunts and gurgles coming from the shadowy figure, but they sounded distant, distorted, like they weren’t even real.

*Who is that? What’s happening? *

My mind raced, trying to make sense of it, but I couldn’t focus. The fear was overwhelming, suffocating. And just as quickly as it started, it ended. My body gave in, and I felt myself slipping back into unconsciousness, the image of that shadow still burned into my mind as sleep finally pulled me under again.

The next morning when I woke up, the memory of the shadowy figure still lingered in my mind. My heart raced for a second, but with the clarity of daylight, I convinced myself it was just a bad dream. Maybe it was the beers messing with my head or the exhaustion from the trip. Either way, I brushed it off as nothing more than a fleeting nightmare.

I threw on a robe and made my way to breakfast. When I stepped into the dining area, only one person was sitting at the table—Steve.

"Morning," Steve greeted me, his voice cheerful, a little too chipper for someone who had been drinking the night before. I scanned the table, noticing the elaborate breakfast spread, but it felt odd not seeing anyone else.

“Morning,” I replied, hesitating for a second before sitting down. "Where is everyone?"

"Hungover," he said with a chuckle. "They really went all out last night”

That made sense. They all drank a lot me than me last night. "And you? How come you're not suffering?"

Steve gave a small smirk, shrugging. "My system’s made of steel, so I rarely get hungover."

Of course, he didn't. Steve seemed invincible most of the time, and I wasn't surprised he could shrug off a night of heavy drinking. I glanced at the food in front of us. "Should we wait for them?"

"Nah," Steve waved it off. "With the way they were drinking, we might be here till dinner before anyone shows up. Go ahead and dig in."

I didn’t need much convincing. I slid into one of the side chairs, while Steve took his usual place at the head of the table. We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Steve broke it.

"Got any plans for today?" he asked, a little too casually.

Surprised, I looked up from my plate. "I figured since we were staying in, since no one else is gonna be up for anything until later, right?"

Steve raised an eyebrow, his tone playful. "Just because they're out for the count doesn't mean we have to be. I was thinking we could head into town. Do some sightseeing, meet the locals."

"Meet the locals?" I echoed, genuinely surprised. Steve didn’t exactly strike me as the type to go out of his way to meet people outside his own circle. "You want to hang out with locals?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "We’ll stick to the tourist spots, don’t worry. And just because I’m from a different social class doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy stepping out of it now and then."

I caught the subtle dig and realized he’d picked up on my jab. I decided to brush it off, unsure of how else to respond. "Sounds fun, but I just downloaded a new book on my phone, and I thought I’d spend the day cracking into it."

Steve leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "There’ll be plenty of time for that later.” Pushing back into his chair “C’mon, it’ll be good to get out of the villa for a bit. When we get back, everyone should be ready for dinner, and you can get to your book."

I hesitated, weighing the options. Truthfully, it did sound nice to get out, but one thing nagged at me. "What about Sharon?” I knew she wouldn’t like the idea of me and Steve hanging out together all day. Even if she was sure nothing would happen. Back when we were all at University Sharon had always been very possessive over Steve, something I found that she hasn’t quite grown out of since.

Steve’s expression softened slightly, and he gave me a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry about Sharon. She’ll be fine."

It took less convincing than I thought, but eventually, I caved. After all, Steve wasn’t wrong—sitting in the villa all day wasn’t going to do me much good, and maybe getting out would help clear my mind from last night’s weird dream. Plus, the idea of staying cooped up with Sharon still hungover didn’t seem appealing.

"Alright," I finally agreed, sighing in defeat. "Let’s do it."

Steve grinned, pleased with himself. "Great. We’ll head out after morning yoga. Sound good?"

I nodded, the tightness in my chest easing up just a little. After breakfast, we made our way out to the beach for our routine yoga session, the sound of the waves calming my nerves. The fresh air helped clear my head, and by the time we finished and headed back to our rooms to get ready for the day, I was actually looking forward to seeing what the rest of the day had in store.

The market buzzed with life, a mix of scents and sounds that made my head spin. Everywhere I looked, there were bright colors, loud voices, and locals selling everything from spices to handmade crafts. Steve, surprisingly, fit right in, despite how out of place I felt. He was bartering with a vendor, his grin disarming, his confidence unshakable. I hung back, watching him work his magic.

After a few minutes, he walked over to me, holding something small in his hand. “Thought you might like this,” he said, handing me a delicate wooden carving of a flower.

I took it, feeling the smooth surface under my fingers. “What is it?”

“Frangipani,” Steve said, his eyes gleaming like he was proud to know something I didn’t. “It’s a flower native to the Maldives. Beautiful, isn’t it? Known for its lovely fragrance and unique beauty.” He paused, watching my reaction. “It’s associated with love and new life. Quite fitting, don’t you think?”

I blinked, what was he getting at? “Well, I’m sure Sharon would love it.” I said trying to hand him back the wooden carving.

Instead of taking it back, Steve holds his hands up in refusal. “It’s for you” he says. I stared down at the flower in my hand, feeling its weight even though it was light. The symbolism, the beauty, everything about it made me feel like there was more to this gift than just a thoughtful gesture.

Then I started wondering if Steve had been apart of the plan to set me up with Peter. It didn’t seem like it, and frankly, I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions just to be wrong. So, I kept the thought to myself, hoping that this was nothing more than a simple gift.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, slipping the trinket into my pocket, the discomfort in my chest lingered.

Steve just smiled, that same easy charm never faltering. We continued through the market, his casual jokes carefully pulling me out of my thoughts.

Next Steve convinced me to go on a boat ride. The gentle sway of the boat rocked me into a strange calm, the cool breeze brushing past as we cruised along the island, it all felt so peaceful, the endless ocean stretching out in every direction, making me feel like a small piece in a large system. Steve sat beside me, more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. His usual cocky air had softened, and for a moment, he almost seemed… normal.

"That’s where they used to fish for manta rays," Steve said, pointing out to a distant spot in the water. "They stopped the practice years ago and turned it into a conservation zone."

I nodded, pretending to care about manta rays or conservation or whatever, but my mind was elsewhere. The weight of everything I’d been holding onto lately, from my job to my future, felt like it was pushing down on me, threatening to break through the calm the boat ride offered.

Steve’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You, okay? You seem a little distant.”

I blinked, not expecting the question. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“About what?” He turned his head to look at me, his eyes not demanding, just curious. For once, there was no smirk, no hint of arrogance. He seemed genuinely interested.

I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to share anything real with him. But something about the quiet sea and the way he looked at me, like he actually wanted to hear, disarmed me. Before I knew it, I was spilling the truth.

“It’s just… graduating and all. I thought by now I’d have my life figured out; you know? Like, I’d be working in my field, doing something meaningful. But here I am, back to square one, still jobless and feeling like a failure.”

I hadn’t meant to say that much, but the words just kept coming, like I’d been waiting for someone. Anyone. to ask.

Steve didn’t interrupt. He just listened, nodding along like he actually understood. And maybe he did, or at least wanted me to believe he did.

“It’s frustrating,” I continued, the knot in my chest loosening just a bit. “I spent all that time studying, working my ass off, and now it feels like none of it mattered. Like I’m not good enough to make it work.”

Steve leaned back, gazing out at the horizon. “You’re good enough. Sometimes it’s not about skill or effort, it’s about luck, timing.” He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Or maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “I’ve looked everywhere, Steve. It’s not like I haven’t tried.”

He nodded thoughtfully, then gave me a sideways glance. “You don’t have to keep trying so hard. You’re allowed to breathe, you know. There’s more than one way to get where you want to go.”

I bit my lip, unsure what he was getting at. Was this his version of advice?

Steve shifted slightly; his tone still casual but with a hint of something deeper. “I’m sure your parents didn’t send you to school just to see you struggle like this, right?”

I stiffened slightly at the mention of my parents. He wasn’t wrong. My parents expected a lot from me, and failure wasn’t an option in their eyes. I sighed, feeling the familiar pressure creep back. “Yeah, they didn’t.”

Steve nodded again, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he looked back at the sea. “Well, if you ever need help... I could always talk to my dad. Maybe set you up with something real. Something that actually matches your degree.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Your dad? Like, at his company? Rogers and Co?”

He grinned, “Yeah, why not? I’ve seen what you’re capable of. It’s not like it’d be a handout.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me was flattered, the other part suspicious. Steve wasn’t exactly known for his altruism, but in that moment, he made it sound like he was doing me a favor just because he could. Maybe it was the way he said it, like it was no big deal. Like I didn’t have to worry about my future anymore.

“I’ll… think about it,” I muttered, trying to process his offer.

“Take your time,” Steve said, flashing me that charming grin. "We've still got plenty of trip left."

As the boat ride continued, the gnawing feeling of failure in my gut didn’t go away entirely, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe things wouldn’t stay this bad forever. At least, not with someone like Steve in my corner.

After the boat ride, Steve suggested we stop for lunch at a quiet seaside café. The breeze from the ocean mixed with the scent of seafood and spices, giving everything a laid-back, tropical feel. It should’ve been relaxing, but the moment we sat down, my stomach twisted in knots—not from hunger, but from the nerves that always seemed to grab a hold of me lately.

He flipped through the menu like it was second nature, while I stared at mine, feeling overwhelmed by the options. Why did everything sound so... rich? I wasn’t even sure what half of it was. Feeling a bit self-conscious, I decided to play it safe and order a salad. Something light. Something that wouldn’t make me feel as exposed.

When the waiter came, I told him my choice, but Steve barely looked at me before raising an eyebrow. "A salad?" His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was enough to make me feel like I’d been caught out. He looked at me in that way only he could, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Come on, Kiwi, we’ve been active all day, you need more than lettuce."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I stared down at the menu again. "I’m not that hungry," I muttered.

But Steve didn’t buy my lie, instead, he chuckled. “That’s nonsense,” he said before turning to the waiter. “Bring us a full spread. We’ll have the curry, the grilled fish, and the flatbreads," he ordered, listing the dishes like he’d been eating them his whole life.

When the food arrived, it smelled amazing, plates full of fragrant curry, fresh fish, and buttery flatbreads covered the table. I hesitated, glancing at Steve, but he just smiled, his confidence unwavering. "Trust me, it’s good."

Everything was delicious. As we ate, the conversation flowed more easily than I expected. Steve told a few funny stories about himself and his friends, and before I knew it, I was laughing along, my nerves slipping away and we shared stories from university, and somewhere along the line, I realized I’d started eating without overthinking every bite.

For once, I wasn’t worrying about how I looked while I ate. I was just... enjoying myself. It felt almost normal. I took a sip of my drink and casually asked, "Whatever happened to Bucky? I remember you guys being inseparable."

Steve raised an eyebrow "Bucky? Yeah, we were… we are, he’s just... busy with some family stuff."

"Oh," I nodded, "I figured you guys would be on this trip together."

"Yeah, well," Steve leaned back, smirking a little, "life happens, you know? He’s laying low, sorting things out.”

I smiled, "That’s good. I always liked Bucky."

Steve’s grin widened, “Everyone likes Bucky.” He took another sip of his drink, the conversation flowing smoothly. “But don’t worry, he’ll be around next time.”

On our way back to the villa, Steve suddenly suggested taking a detour for a short hike up a nearby trail. At first, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. After the boat ride and lunch, the idea of hiking, especially in this heat, seemed like a bad idea. But Steve was insistent, and he gave me that look like he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

"Come on, it’s not that long of a hike," he said, flashing that easy smile of his. "The view’s incredible. Trust me."

I sighed but agreed, figuring it couldn’t hurt to check it out. The trail was steep in some parts, and I found myself struggling to keep up at times. Steve, however, moved with ease. Every now and then, he’d offer me his hand to help me over a rock or up a tricky slope, and I accepted it, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. It was strange how he could be so patient and encouraging when I was sure he’d rather have someone who could keep up.

When we finally reached the top, I was glad I didn’t bail. The view was absolutely stunning. The sun was just beginning to dip in the sky, casting a golden glow over the island below. The ocean sparkled like something out of a painting, and for a brief moment, I forgot about everything. It was just me, Steve, and that view.

We stood there in silence for a while, both of us soaking in the scenery. Steve looked content, like he didn’t have a care in the world, while I felt a mixture of emotions. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his generosity than he let on, but in that moment, it was easy to forget my suspicions. The beauty of the island, the calmness, it was all too perfect.

Without really thinking about it, I blurted out, "You really think you could talk to your dad for me? About a job, I mean?"

Steve turned to me, clearly surprised by my sudden outburst. For a second, I regretted saying anything. But then he burst into a hearty laugh, the sound echoing off the cliffs around us.

"Sure," he said, still chuckling. "As soon as the trip’s over, I’ll have that conversation with him."

I blinked, stunned by how easily he agreed.

"Really?" I asked, feeling a relief.

"Of course," Steve replied, giving me a wink. "But to make sure I keep my promise, we should probably exchange numbers."

He pulled out his phone, and I fumbled for mine, still feeling a little shocked by how smoothly the day had gone. Maybe things really were starting to turn around for me. We swapped numbers, and as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, I couldn’t help but feel a tiny flicker of hope.

By the time we got back to the villa, I was surprised at how quickly the day had passed. The sun was already gone disappearing behind the horizon, exposing the stars and moon in the sky. I hadn’t expected to enjoy myself, not like this, but somehow, Steve made it easy. He didn’t push, didn’t make me feel out of place, just letting the day unfold.

We stepped inside, and the villa was eerily quiet. Everyone else was still dealing with the aftermath of last night’s drinking marathon. Sharon was nowhere to be found, most likely still knocked out in her room. I could hear some noise from Thor and Jane’s room, loud enough to know they were up and active clearly preoccupied with each other. Tony and Pepper’s room was dead silent, and there was no sign of Natasha and Bruce.

As Steve and I walked into the living area, Peter was sprawled out on the couch, casually watching TV like nothing was out of the ordinary. He looked up when we entered, gave us both a quick nod, but didn’t say a word about us being out together all day.

"Good trip?" Peter asked, his eyes flicking between Steve and me.

"It was great," Steve answered smoothly, sliding onto the couch next to him like this was the most normal thing in the world. "We hit up the market, went for a boat ride, you know, the usual tourist stuff."

I hesitated for a moment before sitting down on one of the chairs, feeling a bit awkward about how... normal everything seemed. Peter didn’t seem fazed at all. No questions, no snide comments. Just a casual conversation like nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Sounds fun," Peter said, turning his attention back to the TV. His tone was so neutral that I couldn’t tell if he was actually interested or just filling the silence.

Steve leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the couch. "It was. Kiwi kept up just fine."

I glanced at Steve, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I wasn’t sure if he was being genuine or just throwing in a compliment for good measure. Either way, I couldn’t shake the weird feeling that lingered from the day. Maybe I was overthinking everything, but something about how effortlessly he’d made me feel comfortable bothered me.

"We’re all heading to dinner later, right?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Peter gave a lazy nod. "Yeah. Once everyone’s awake, I guess."

I nodded back, standing up from the chair. "I’ll, uh, go get ready then."

As I made my way to my room, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d misjudged Steve. He seemed so genuine today like he actually cared. But there was still that small voice in the back of my mind, whispering to run.

[chixkencxrry]

Hello,

Just thought I'd reshare this -- as, with the advent of new Tumblr rules I have relabelled most of my work as "Mature" as to prevent them from being removed. As such, I know some work may not be visible anymore. Here's me boosting by reblogging the MASTERLIST -- which has no label.

Please keep in mind any person without age in bio, below 18, or with a blank profile seen liking or reblogging will be blocked for safety sake.

Masterlist

Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories. 

IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO NOT READ MY NSFW STORIES.

(NB: All Readers are Fem! Black unless stated otherwise.)

The Witcher Fanfiction

Untitled - Geralt & Ciri father and daughter bonding over nightmares.

Child Surprise - Geralt, a surly bounty hunter, spends sometime with his new daughter. (Modern AU)

lost - Yennefer reflects on everything she’s lost.

kind - Geralt reflects on the kindness of the reader’s love in a tender moment.

The Hunted - You are the monster he’s come to kill.

Jaskier Smut

lucid - Dreams are unsuitable mistresses to reality. This you learn the hard way. (18+)

Chrysanthemums - It’s your first time and Jaskier intends on being your last. (18+)

tease - You’ve been an unrelenting tease for the entire day - but will Jaskier let you rule him? (18+)

one more for the road - You’re tired of not being a priority in Jaskier’s life and of his panromantic ways. (18+)

defender - You accidentally admit your feelings to Jaskier whilst defending him. (18+)

Avengers

Steve Rogers

tulips and victoria lilies - dark! steve rogers and reader have a date, but will they make it? part two (18+)

pomegranate seeds - (two parter) y/n goes out for a night of drinking against the wishes of her significant other, Steve. part two (18+)

poison - dark!steve rogers. a/b/o dynamics. You’re an unmated omega out on town one night. (A perfect time for an unsavory hero to strike.) You are also a semi-famous activist for omega rights. It’s a modern world where omega are not subjected to their hormones and the whims of random alphas who were not their mates. However, some people have a bit more traditional view. (18+)

Bucky Barnes

a+ - dark!bucky barnes is the supervisor for reader’s research course! but are his intentions purely academic? (18+)

the art of coping - bucky takes a class. soft! romantic one shot.

bath. - bucky returns home worn from a mission.

Loki

Give In - You have been hiding from him for the past six months, determined to not be shackled by his dangerously possessive nature you went through extreme lengths to sever ties with him – including breaking a piece of your soul. But Loki has only ever been determined to get what was owed to him. Dark! Loki x Fem! Reader (18+)

Miguel O’Hara 🕷️

oh, baby: Miguel was a mystery you’d only just begun to unravel. (SMUT, 18+)

mi tigre: A quiet weekend for Miguel and his lady. (SMUT, 18+)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

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

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“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.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Never say “no” to your husband | Steve Rogers

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Dark!Mob!Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> You say “no” when Steve wants you to warm his cock in front of his men.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 557

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 18+, Minors DNI Smut, dark!Steve, mention of fingering, unprotected p in v, rough sex

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> 🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about: Dark!Steve Rogers + covering your mouth @stargazingfangirl18

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for sending that Drabble idea. It was funny.

Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

“Come on. Don’t be like that, honey.”

Steve groans and grasps your hand, stopping you from leaving the room while he turns you around. Your front crashes almost painfully against the hard wall in front of you. You hiss softly, and Steve pushes himself against you, holding you tight between the wall and his body. You can feel his tensing muscles against your back and the way his fingers dig into your skin.

“Stevie, pl-,” you whimper, but you get interrupted by his forward thrusting hips.

Steve's hand snaps to your face, covering your mouth before you can complain or beg even more. He knows that you would try to convince him to let go of you, but he won’t. He is desperate, and he wants you, your tight pussy. He owns his reward; he is the most popular mob boss, so he deserves to be treated like that. He thrusts his hips another time forward, his growing bulge pressing against your ass, and you whine against his hand.

“Told you to be good. Wanted to bury my dick inside of you earlier, but you made a scene. There were just a few of my men. You're a bad girl. You little slut, now I’m gonna fuck you,” he mumbles into your ear before he kisses down your neck.

Steve’s hand, which isn’t covering your mouth, removes your pants, freeing his cock. He moans loudly when he runs his thumb over the tip of his hard cock, smearing the pre-cum all over his dick, and gives himself a few strokes. Your husband loves to have you like that, begging for him to stop, maybe for his cock - depends on his mood. But now he just wants to fuck the attitude out of you, the way you said “no” to him when he told you to warm his dick. You didn’t want to, since he had a meeting with his men. Steve didn’t like to hear a no when it came to things he asked for. Not to mention that he always gets what he wants, as does his sweet little wife, who has to give him whatever he wants.

Steve’s hand lets go of his dick, sliding around your body until he reaches your pussy, moving them through your already wet folds. Steve chuckles, knowing your body exactly and how to touch you to make you drip like that. He rubs your clit, adding more pressure while he listens to the soft, muffled moans that leave your lips.

“Like that, don’t you? Such a pretty little slut for me.”

Before you can protest in any way, he shoves his dick inside of you. Your walls are stretching painfully, but your arousal makes it easy for him to slide balls deep inside of your tight pussy. Steve can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of you and your pretty little pussy.

“Don’t try to wiggle out of my grip. We both know you love that, love being fucked like that by your husband,” he groans, starting to thurst in a brutal pace inside of you.

His hand covers your mouth, your screams and moans muffled by it, while his dick stretches you like no one else could. And as much as you hate to admit it, he is able to fuck you whenever and wherever you want.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @felicitylemon @cjand10 @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf

[naturalthrone22]

This mf!! How is he so hot yet such a misogynistic asshole?! Why do I still love him? Ughh poor omega…all she wanted to do was be a good student and he used her submissive to her advantage like always. But I can’t stop loving their dynamic.

I can’t say I’m surprised about lying about how many spankings but how rude lol he manipulates her sweetness so she depends on him and bestie that’s like such a kink for me. He gaslights the fuck out of her but then shows that tiny bit of sweetness and I cling on like a desperate bitch in heat…Don’t judge me please but I’d be the best damn wife he could ever imagine lol

I love this so much!! Anytime you write him I salivate, thank you for sharing this gem!!🖤

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐭 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spanking, daddy kink, a/b/o dynamics, misogyny, light fingering, biting, gaslighting, manipulation, animalistic behaviour lmao, 18+, minors dni

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve teaches you a lesson you’ll never forget.

𝗔/𝗡: This is a POYT drabble featuring Steve and his omega! Enjoy!

“Omega, baby, come here.”

Steve’s voice is stern, despite the pet name. You freeze from where you’re sat, hunched over your boyfriend’s desk where you’ve got a mountain of homework in front of you. You’d been buried up to your nose in textbooks and notes when he’d come home, and all he’d done was sit and watch you for the past ten minutes.

You immediately get up and make your way over to where he’s sat on the edge of his bed. Pointedly, he pats his thigh and you take a seat on his lap.

“What have I told you about what good omegas should do when their alphas come home?” There’s a dangerous edge to his tone as he casually pushes the fabric of your top aside and fingers your bra strap, snapping it against your skin and making you yelp.

“Good omegas greet their alphas at the door with a hug and kiss.” You recite before looking up at him pleadingly (although not for long because he’s scary and you can’t maintain eye contact for long). “B-But Steve, I was doing homework. I got d-distracted, I’m sorry.”

“Mm, see this is why omegas shouldn’t concern themselves with getting degrees.” Steve muses, stroking your hair casually whilst you sit in his lap, rigid as a statue and your heart beating like crazy. “So busy with schoolwork that you forgot your duty as an omega.”

“I’m sorry.” You bow your head in shame. You can feel the disappointment radiating off of him in waves, and it’s having a major effect on you, as usual.

“I’ve been at home ten minutes now and all you did was smile at me and say hey before going back to your work. When really, you should’ve greeted me with the proper respect befitting of an alpha. I thought you knew better, omega.” Steve shakes his head, twirling a strand of your hair on his finger before giving it a harsh tug.

“I should’ve known better, Steve. But there was a lot of work, you see, and—” There’s a part of you that finds it silly, because you have every right to do your homework. And it’s not like you’d ignored him! But the omega part of you burns with shame because you’ve let him down.

“Shut up.” Steve says calmly and you immediately bow your head again, only to look up when he gives your ass a harsh pinch. “Well? What are you waiting for? Give your alpha a welcome home kiss.”

Heart pitter-pattering, you angle up and tip your head back, pecking his warm lips softly. And it feels so nice, a large part of you just wants to continue kissing, just melt into him and feel his arms around you. Just make out with him forever because it gives you butterflies and he’s such a good kisser.

But Steve doesn’t kiss you back, and you’re too shy to initiate anything. So you pull back and duck your head. The alpha energy exuding from him is making you feel heady and extra submissive, so all you can think to do now is stay put and wait till he gives you permission to go back to your schoolwork.

But the glint in Steve’s eye shows that he has other plans.

“Stand up.” He commands you softly and you do as he says, standing between his legs with the rug soft against your bare feet. “Pull your leggings down. Panties too.”

You blink. He wanted to have sex? Well, that wasn’t surprising since Steve always wanted sex. It didn’t matter where you were, what time it was or what mood he was in.

You do as you’re told, feeling the cool air against your bare legs as you strip. It’s strange though, usually Steve takes your clothes off for you (something about how it’s an Alpha’s job to undress his omega). You wonder why this time is different—

“Bend over my lap.”

You blink before realisation seeps through your brain, and you see his hand flexing and waiting by his side. Oh no. He couldn’t possibly be wanting to spank you, could he??

Instinctively, you shake your head. “S-Steve, please, I said I was sorry! Please! I won’t do it again!” You desperately think of all the ways you can make it up to him. Cook him his favourite dinner and dessert? And maybe a big breakfast spread tomorrow? You had an assignment due the next day but you could ask for an extension if it meant keeping your alpha happy.

But Steve’s handsome features remain stoic. “Get over my knee, omega. And if you make me repeat myself one more time, there’ll be hell to pay for you.”

You find yourself over his knee and face to face with the bedsheets, quivering in his arms as he lifts your oversized t shirt up. You suck in your breath when you feel the expanse of his hand stroking your ass.

“I’m punishing you because you deserve it.” His voice is deathly calm and it frightens you. “And maybe after this is over, you’ll learn to be a good omega and get your priorities straight.”

Never in your life had you been spanked before. Sure, Steve liked to slap your ass all the time; during sex or even casually in public. But this was different, being bent over the knee of your alpha like you were some kind of chastised child, your body stripped away of any sort of autonomy as it surrenders to him.

“I’ll be nice to you, since you’re a baby and it’s your first ever spanking after all.” Steve smirks, hand still stroking and squeezing your ass, “I’ll only give you ten smacks, although you deserve more than double that amount for forgetting to greet me. But I’m not heartless, so you better thank me for being nice.”

You sniff, feeling like a child who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar — despite the fact that your offence wasn’t even that bad! But you feel so submissive, so you nod sadly and give in to your fate. “Th-Thank you for being nice.”

SMACK.

His hand cracks down on your bare ass, hard as a whip and you cry out in shock and pain. That hurt! But Steve is unperturbed by your pain, giving your searing ass cheek a rough squeeze. “That was for not addressing me properly.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I’m sorry…Thank you for being nice, daddy.”

Steve sighs, leisurely stroking your ass while you lay over his knee with bated breath, never knowing when the next blow will happen. “God, you have such a pretty baby ass.” He grabs one cheek lewdly and gives it a jiggle, “So cute and round, practically begging for a smack.”

He’s taking his sweet time, and it’s too intense, and you can’t help but look up at him pleadingly, “S-Steve, please, I said I was sor—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Steve says sharply, pinching your butt meanly, and you cry out in pain. “You’re not making this any easier for yourself, omega. I know you’re a dumb little baby who’s scared but that doesn’t mean you get to skip out on punishments. Keep your eyes on the floor, and if you look up at me again, I swear I’ll use my belt.”

The threat has your heart racing and palms sweating, and you look back down as Steve resumes playing with your ass. His expert fingers know exactly how to touch you, stroke your skin, pinch and prod you till you’re panting and trying to squeeze your thighs together. You’re still scared but you can’t help but feel your wetness seeping down your legs (and onto his thigh).

SMACK.

His palm collides with your ass harder than the first time, and you cry out, fisting the bedsheets and biting your lip.

“Count for me, baby.” He commands you, “and thank me after each one.”

“O-One.” You cry softly. “Thank you, d-daddy.”

SMACK.

Another hard blow, and you swallow harshly because it hurts already and you still have eight more to go, and you can’t help but sob, “Two. Thank you, daddy.”

“Aww, crying already, baby?” Steve coos, stroking your burning ass. “And just remember, I’m going easy on you. Next time you slip up, it’ll be the paddle or my belt.”

The punishment continues, smack after smack cracking down on your ass till you’re writhing in pain, crying as the tears flow freely down your face, and Steve has to use his other leg to pin you down and keep you in place as the burning pain is proving too much to handle.

“Gonna bruise your little ass up real good, omega.” He promises you, voice deep with lust. You can feel his dick, angry and hard through his jeans, poking up against your stomach.

“Fuck, you don’t even know how bad I’ve been wanting to teach you a lesson like this.” He gives your ass cheek another jiggle, squeezing it hard as if it’s a toy. “Before I’d claimed you, when I’d see you walking around, bending over to pick something up, your cute little ass poking out for everyone to see.”

SMACK. This slap is harder than ever, and you sob as you count and thank him, barely getting the words out as Steve grows more and more excited.

“And everyone would fucking stare at you.” He continues darkly, stopping his assault and instead stroking the sizzling skin of your backside, getting dangerously close to your slippery core.

“And like the dumb omega you are, you never even noticed. Fuck, I should’ve pulled you aside and fucking smacked your ass raw right there in the middle of campus, in front of all of them. Maybe then they’d have realised you were never a free piece of ass to begin with.”

SMACK.

You cry and cry as he has his way with you, his palm colliding with your sensitive ass over and over again. And the force of each smack has your clit — all puffed up and engorged — rub deliciously against the material of his jeans. The rough denim creates friction against your bundle of nerves, mixing a dangerous cocktail of burning pain and pleasure within you as your cream leaks down his leg.

“Tell me who this little baby ass belongs to, omega.” Steve orders you between smacks.

“You!”

“Say it again. Louder. Tell me exactly who owns your sweet little ass.”

“Daddy! You own my ass, you own it!” You sob, hoping it’ll be over because you’ve counted more then ten smacks now. In fact, you’ve lost count.

But Steve is still incensed, raining smack after smack down on your poor rear end — even though he’d promised only ten! But you can’t argue with him, can’t protest. All you can do is cry and take the assault.

“Damn right. You’re my fucking omega and that means I can beat your little ass whenever the fuck I want, you hear me? And you’re just a weak little baby, so just shut the fuck up and take it.”

He alternates between both your ass cheeks, landing blow after blow before coming to a sudden stop. You sniffle, the tears blurring your vision and the pain mixed with the desire between your legs making you heady. Steve spreads your ass cheeks slowly, pressing a probing finger against your puckered hole.

You gasp, the unfamiliar feeling of his finger there sending sparks down to your core. But all he does is trail downwards, dangerously close to your pussy which throbs with need.

“P-Please.” You garble through your tears, earning another hefty slap.

Steve leisurely swirls his finger through your dripping wet folds, gathering your sticky cream and spreading up on your burning ass.

“Wet from a spanking.” He whistles lowly, “how slutty can you get, omega? Does getting hit make you horny? Huh?” He gives you another hard slap, “I asked you a question, baby. Does getting spanked make your little pussy wet?”

“Yes!” You sob, “Steve! Daddy, please!” And you don’t even know what you’re begging for. For him to stop spanking you? For him to touch you down there? You don’t know, but you just feel so needy, all the sensations clouding your judgement as Steve’s attention goes back to your ass.

“I’m not even close to done with you.” Steve murmurs before licking his palm and cracking down on your poor ass cheek once more, the sound reverberating off the walls as you cry in pain. “I’ll make sure you can’t sit straight for a week, baby. Maybe that’ll teach you to be the dutiful little omega you were always meant to be.”

SMACK.

SMACK.

SMACK.

Your rear end feels fiery and numb at the same time, Steve’s onslaught never-ending as he alternates between smacks and pinches. Your flesh feels sore and abused, and Steve’s boner only grows harder underneath you.

“Mine. All fucking mine.” Steve growls, his blows growing more animalistic. And then, with a rumble from his chest, he leans down over you. And before you know what’s happening, you howl in pain when you feel his teeth clamp down on the sizzling flesh of your ass, biting down hard as if your ass is a piece of meat.

His bite is so hard, so animalistic, that you know he’s drawn blood. And you know it’ll leave a mark on the sensitive skin of your backside. But he doesn’t care, clamping down hard while his strong arms hold you in place. And when he finally detaches his teeth from your skin, he licks it all up. Licking stripes up and down your ass, practically devouring it as if it’s a toy for him to use and abuse how he pleases.

“Mine.” Steve whispers against your fiery hot flesh, ignoring your cries as he nuzzles his face against your ass, teeth grazing against the sizzling, broken skin as if he’s tempted to bite you again. As if he’s been taken over by some kind of wild beast inside him, one that wants to claim you in the rawest, most animalistic way possible. Instead, he licks and sucks and nips at your flesh, “Don’t you fucking disrespect me like that again, baby. I can do so much more damage than this.”

SMACK.

The final blow is harder than any of the ones before it, like the crack of a whip on your backside, leaving you crying harder than ever before.

And then he jolts you upwards so you’re sat on his knee, and the contact between your ass and the rough denim has you sobbing and sobbing in pain, feeling all sorts of vulnerable and submissive and scared.

“Y-You said… Y-You said only ten!” You sob in his arms. Your ass is on fire and you feel like he’d smacked you about thirty times at least.

“I know, baby.” Steve sounds surprisingly gentle but you can hear the smirk in his voice. “But as your alpha, I need to have a firm hand. And I knew you wouldn’t learn your lesson with just ten spanks. Daddy knows what’s best for you, baby. And don’t you have anything to say to me now?”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so s-sorry!” You burst out, only wanting his approval. It’s like his spanking has broken something inside you, making you feel like you need his approval and forgiveness or else you’ll die. “W-Won’t do it again, daddy, I pr-promise.”

Steve smiles as he smooths your hair back, before casually gathering your tears on his finger when he strokes your cheeks. “You better hope you don’t do it again. Next time I come home, I expect you to greet me at the door, you got that?”

You nod desperately through your tears, heart thudding in your chest when finally, Steve hugs you close, giving your tear-stained cheek a soft kiss while he holds you and allows you to sob into his chest, repeating the words ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again.

“And look, you’ve made a huge mess on my jeans.” Steve tsks, and he’s got a glint in his eye as he surveys the huge wet spot on his thigh. You duck your head in shame, burying your face in his shoulder because you feel all small and vulnerable and afraid. “I should take you over my knee again, baby, for making such a mess.”

“Please no!” You sob quietly, wanting to be held and hugged by him but too shy and distraught and in pain to ever voice this desire. “ ‘m sorry, Steve. D-Didn’t mean to, it just happened.”

Steve continues to stroke your head as if you’re his little pet, pressing kisses on your hairline while his arms hug you tightly. And you know he’s the reason your ass is on fire right now, but it’s still this gentle touch from him that you crave. You feel so especially needy, wanting to cling to him like a koala.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling nice today, omega.” He tells you, standing up and picking you up along with him. “Now tell me, do you want to go back to studying?”

You glance back at your textbooks, strewn open and dejected on his desk, before immediately shaking your head, burying your face into his chest once more and holding onto him tightly. Your brain feels scrambled and disoriented, your ass feels numb with pain, and the omega inside you is crying to stay in your alpha’s arms. Studying would have to wait.

Steve smiles, the wicked glint in his eyes still present. “That’s my good girl. Always remember that I come first.” He presses his lips against yours and you welcome the kiss, desperately kissing him back and clutching his sweater as he holds you close.

“I’ll run us a bath, baby. See, daddy has to discipline you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be nice too.”

A/N: SKDJSKSKSKA IDEK YALL!!! WHAT DO U THINK ???

[p3sephone]

Chapter 4.

Summary: you are a worker in the Stark Tower, only aiming to grow your career and keep your life simple. Actually, you were the kind of person who admired the avengers but from afar but Steve Rogers didn’t have the same plan once he started talking with you.

Warnings: non-stop anxiety, harrassing, forced soft kisses, implied stalking and Steve never leaving you alone. This serie is going to have very dark themes in the future chapters, so if you don’t like this please do not read. Minors are not allowed. Only +18. This character does not belong to me.

Note: I've been gone for some time but I'm glad I'm back. I will continue this serie even though I have lots going on right now, but I'll try not to be slow. Reblogs, comments and likes are always very appreciated! Ty so much in advance. <3

Serie masterlist.

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

You were hyperventilating. You couldn’t believe what had happened just the night before, all you knew was that you hadn’t managed to sleep a wink when you got home. There was only one more day to go and the weekend would finally arrive, your days off were approaching and first of all you would have a break from Steve, during which you would surely seal yourself in your own apartment, and secondly you could think about how to gain control of the situation that had arisen.

Control. That was what you were missing, that was what he had taken by force and that you could never get back: you and Steve Rogers could easily be considered as two separate species as far as you were concerned. And yet it was so surreal, he was an avenger, he had saved everyone. You hadn’t seen it coming and you never would have been able to, but now you were in that situation. The bruises on your body showed it and it wasn’t a banal daydream. You bent over the sink again and rubbed your face and lips, the same ones he had forcefully kissed, violently. The thought of him wanting to give you a gift and continue until he gave you God only knows what made your stomach turn.

And yet, you looked up at the mirror and realized that despite everything, you still had to go to work, you still had to work. And so you did: you got ready, you used makeup to make yourself look like a rested person and not a zombie who hadn't slept, and finally you went out and headed to your train stop. Finally, you got to work, and it took you another 10 minutes just to take a step forward.

Before you could even reassure yourself that you could control the situation at least a little, at least for a few minutes like this, you saw Steve Rogers going for a run with his partner Sam. Was it a morning workout? Maybe you could write it down somewhere, so you could understand his movements and use them. A lump formed in your throat as you turned around before he could even notice you and headed towards the entrance of the large building. You had to move, you had to get through the mass of workers who were going in the same direction as you and finally get to your office. Everything was going to be okay today… right?

"You look a little tired."

You froze on the spot, watching the other people go forward and wishing you could walk away with them. Instead, your feet seemed frozen and had become one with the ground.

"Good morning, I just slept a little badly, nothing to worry about." you said very briefly, not even looking at the man twice your size who was standing right behind you. You couldn't move a single facial muscle, not even the slightest sign of disappointment or despair because Steve wasn't the only one watching the scene. The others were looking at him, but he only had eyes for you. What almost made you laugh was that he actually looked worried. He seemed to. He just hummed in response, then grabbed your shoulder and invited you to walk with him, asking how you were or how much work you had left today. They were all weird questions and you couldn't focus on a single one of the answers to give because the mere thought of his hand on your shoulder made you feel sick.

You hadn't had time to finally get to the floor that you realized a small and inexorable detail: you were alone. You swallowed slightly, then turned and decided to try to cut Steve short, at least for that morning. You weren't ready and you felt like yesterday's dinner would soon be regurgitated at this rate.

"Steve, listen, we could meet up later maybe… I really have a lot of work to do-"

"Stark always fills you up with work, and you just accept it." he frowned, ignoring your veiled suggestion and crossing his arms, taking several steps towards you. Then, he smiled sweetly and placed a hand on your cheek, the same one from yesterday. Without thinking twice, you pulled away with a small moan, then slowly looked up from his hand to his eyes. They had become a little colder, like the day before: it was a warning and you preferred to take it.

So, when he brought not only his hand to your cheek again, cupping it, but also his body until it was attached to yours and looking down at you, you did nothing. It was as if your body was no longer yours, it was paralyzed and terrified there, only your mind remained.

"I have a little surprise for you. I would like to ask you out to dinner, today." Steve freely ignored your signs of anxiety and terror, preferring instead to leave a simple kiss on your forehead and pull you even closer to him. You were nervous, you didn't want to have him so close and you didn't want to see him at dinner. You were afraid of what he could do to you, though, if you said no. So, you played another card.

"I… I accepted the overtime for today, I can't back out, all those documents are due soon and they're very important." It was almost a whisper, you couldn't regain the grit you had the day before when you dared to stand up to him. You still had that anger buried, but you knew when it was best to keep it buried. Steve let go of your cheek and walked away from you frowning, then sighed heavily. He couldn't say anything back to that, it seemed, and you took it as a victory even if temporary. Then, suddenly, he lit up.

"But tomorrow you have a small workload, so you don't have to leave here late, you usually leave around five." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Your throat was dry and your pupils dilated as you stared at him, unable to give him an answer as he looked at you with his classic American golden boy smile. Did he know your hours? So maybe he knew where you lived. It wasn't possible, it had been so little time. It wasn't a hero you had in front of you, he couldn't be.

"Well yes, but…"

"But nothing. Whatever plans you have, don't make me take care of them for you, honey. I'll pick you up at eight in the evening and I can walk you home today, in the meantime…" what you had in front of your eyes was an excited Steve, he was almost happy to take a small black velvet box from his pants pocket. He opened it and inside was a necklace with a small ocean-colored diamond in the center. The necklace was really beautiful, but you didn't want it. In your eyes, it was like allowing him to put something of his on you, and you knew that if you put it on, you would suffer heavy consequences if you took it off.

A single tear fell from your eye as you quickly wiped it away and faked a small smile, trying to take the necklace. Instead, Steve smiled at you and pulled back, then used one arm to spin you around until your back was turned to him. He moved your hair and put the necklace on your face almost as if it were a completely romantic gesture, you could tell he had planned it down to the smallest detail. You shed two more tears before he could even realize it, then followed the force of his body again as he moved you right in front of him.

He gave you a chaste kiss on the lips and what scared you was that you could see how much he was holding back. The question was, what was he holding back for?

"It's just a little gift, I wanted to give it to you later but I really couldn't resist. I'll wait for you once you're done working to take you home, see you later honey." he left you with another kiss and a few caresses to your hair before walking towards the department where his room was and leaving you in front of your office, in tears and with an unwanted weight on your neck. You were afraid of what would come next, because you knew that no matter what, you would have no control.

[jesevans]

Dark Steve and a creepy Bucky? Cool.

Blind Offer 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, 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: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note:  This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

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 &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You come out of work exhausted. The back to school crowd is still in full effect and infringing on your stocking time. Rather than pop your earbud in and lose yourself in barcodes and inventory counts, you more often found yourself searching out a salesman or running to the back to grab a device yourself.

You yawn into the crook of your elbow, feet carrying you out of routine rather than any coherent thought. There’s a flash of headlights as you pass a car idling along the pick up area and you slow down as you squint at the tinted windshield. The interior bulb flicks on and Steve leans forward, giving you a look through the glass as if you should be expecting him.

You slow down and approach the driver’s side as he rolls down the window. You lean in and give a sheepish smile, “uh, I…”

“Didn’t text?” He finishes your sentence, “I figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, you didn’t–”

“Have to come get you. Yeah, I figured you’d say that again. Really, it’s kind of selfish on my part. Thinking of you waiting in the dark alone, it’s kind of my fault you even have to so I can at least give you a lift.”

“That’s… nice of you but tomorrow, I can catch a bus.”

“If you insist,” he shrugs, “I won’t twist your arm with my kindness.”

You laugh softly, unsure of his humour. It’s more akin to passive aggression. As if even thinking of passing up his offer is an insult. Wouldn’t it be worse to use him for free rides? You’re already getting to stay in a property well above your lease value.

“You gonna get in?” He prompts.

“Yeah, sure, sorry, I–”

“Hey, thanks for the help on that Lenovo,” Remo calls as he walks out the front doors, shooting you a three finger wave, “not bad for a warehouse jockey.”

“No problem. Have a good night,” you wave back.

You skirt around the hood of the car and grab the door handle. It snaps back and you wait until the locks clack back loudly. You get in and gently shut the door. You unreel the seat belt as Steve adjusts his rearview.

“You got a lot of friends at work?” He asks as he shifts gear, resting his toe lightly on the gas.

“Eh, I guess,” you lean your arm on the door, “busy day. Did a lot of running around.”

“Huh, yeah, maybe I should stop in tomorrow. Need some stuff for a few units. Got a security cam I need to replace and– you got appliances, don’t you?” He rambles over the steering wheel.

“Yeah, uh, I think. Mostly to order,” you rest your cheek against your knuckles and watch how you pass in and out of the yellow cones cast by streetlights. “I guess you’re still looking for a new washer then?”

“Well, they don’t make the same model anymore. Space is pretty compact which means I need something with the same dimensions. I’m shopping around,” He taps his fingers on the wheel, “I’ll figure it out.” 

You nod and give a hum. No use worrying too much about it. You only rent the place, it’s really not your problem to think about the washer. He did say it already had issues before you.

“So, how do you like the place?” He asks abruptly.

“Huh, oh, yeah, it’s very nice. Big,” you answer nervously.

“Yeah, that one’ll go for a lot. A few showings but no bites yet. Probably won’t get anything until I can get you back to your place, heh,” he says the last part casually as if it isn’t directly aimed at you.

“Mmm, um, then I hope you find a washer soon,” you pull your arm away from the door and sit back in the seat. “I hate to be in the way.”

“In the way? I’m the landlord, I knew what I was getting into,” he assures you lightly, though it does little to assuage your doubts. “Oh, and since you didn’t really get a chance, I got a few groceries and left them at the place. Just to get you by.”

“You– Oh, gosh, how much do I owe you?”

“Consider us even. You’ve been pretty cooperative with all this back and forth, I’m the one who owes you.”

“Well, I don’t mind paying for my food–”

“Really, sweetheart, do you always react so adversely to kindness?”

“What? I’m not– no.”

“I’m being nice. I can tell you, there’s not a lot of landlords out there like me. I actually enjoy helping my tenants…” he turns onto a dark street and you shiver. You’ve never been down this way but you don’t live on this side of town. “I always said, whatever you need, just ask.”

“Sure, um, thanks,” you murmur.

He turns back onto a lit avenue as a glint of light flickers over him and draws your eyes. You catch him peeking at you, his blue eye reflecting the flash before he can look back at the road ahead. You shiver and cross your arms. It didn’t seem like he was looking at your face.

“Fresh sheets on the bed too. Hope you don’t mind, I did a once over when you were gone. Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Quick vacuum and all that.”

“It’s your place,” you say, “I’ll be sure to leave it how I found it.”

He inhales, deep enough for you to hear, “I know. You’re not a troublemaker, are you?”

You swallow and furrow your brow at the dashboard. Again, it’s not just his words but his vague tone. You don’t understand the question.

“Good girl like you always pays her rent on time,” he praises, “I can tell you, that’s not always the case.”

You let out a breath, “oh, aha, yeah, well, scheduled payments… technology, right?”

“Mhmm,” he sucks his teeth and lets his arm rest on the console between the seats, ”it’s so easy to be lazy these days.”

🖤

Steve walks you up to the front door. Just in case you can’t get the code right, he claims. You get it on the first try and thank him. Again. He lingers, as if reluctant to leave you, as if he’s expecting to come inside with you. Almost as if you should invite him in.

You say good night and lock the door behind you. You take your time untying your black sneakers and hang your hoodie on the coat rack. When you dare to peek out the window, he’s only just striding down the path back to his car.

It’s slightly creepy but then you feel guilty, thinking maybe you were being rude not asking him in for a tea or something. You don’t know. This whole situation is awkward as hell.

You wander into the kitchen, your stomach growling from the measly microwave dinner you ate on your break. Steve’s ‘small shop’ is much more generous than you expect. Overdoing it seems to be a trait of his.

You read the side of the organic milk in the curved bottle. You know that it costs three times as much as your usual carton of skim. And the greek yogurt, definitely expensive. All brand names, none of the generic discount bin goodies you thrive on.

You let the fridge close as you take out the boxed butternut squash soup. Fancy, you think as you peruse the label. Gourmet, so it claims. You put some in a small pot and heat it up on the gas burner. As you do, you thumb through your phone, pacing around between stirring the thick orange puree.

You eat rich soup with a brioche bun from the market bag. You’re thankful now Steve didn’t ask for compensation, you’re not sure you could foot that bill. And to think, after him praising your timely payments, you would default on a grocery receipt.

You shut off the lights downstairs and flip on the sconce above the staircase and follow it up to the second floor. You come down the hall with a yawn, the bedroom door open and waiting for you. Your duffel is on the dresser where you left it.

You sift around for a loose tee shirt to sleep in and pull out your toiletry bag. You go into the bathroom and change before unzipping the pouch. You take out your cleanser and wash your face over the sink. You pause as you drop the bottle through the open mouth of the blush coloured bag, a fuchsia shape poking out from under your mouthwash.

You reach in and retrieve your bullet vibrator. What the hell? You definitely don’t remember packing that in your hasty evacuation. Besides, why would you put it in there? You shake your head and drop it back to the bottom. 

You pat your face dry and take out your tweezers, cleaning up your brows and a few vagrant hairs along your chin. You put them away then ply on your night cream, making a face at yourself as you brush your teeth. You flip the switch off and use the light on your phone to find your way to bed. 

You lay awake for almost an hour. You’ve never been good at sleeping in strange places. The house feels so empty it’s eerie. Your ears are pricked for any noise but there isn’t much. The walls are so thick, you don’t even hear the rustling of the tree that casts a shadow through the window or the chirp of crickets. Despite its luxury, the house is desolate.

Your eyelids start to itch and you feel your muscles ease. You start to drift down, a slow swirling descent that tingles in your sockets. That shell starts to encase you, little by little, paralysing you as it drags you down.

BANG!

It isn’t loud but sudden. The dull noise jars you up, chasing away the advance of your fatigue. You look around, heart beating wildly, searching for the source. It sounded close but you can’t be sure. It could’ve been all in your mind as you tiptoed the threshold of your unconscious.

You bounce to the edge of the bed and stand, wobbling through the dark until you find the switch by the door. The light shines out around you as you stop in the doorway, glancing trepidatiously towards the stairs. You near the top and turn on the next light, a cautious progress through the spacious house.

You go down each step, one at a time, and when you get to the bottom, you illuminate the entryway too, the front room, and finally the kitchen. There’s nothing there. You didn’t really expect to find anything. The noise felt much closer to the bedroom.

You return to the second floor, shutting off the lights along the way, and you peer down the hallway. You didn’t check up here. You pad along the soft runner rug and peek into the bathroom before you approach the closed door of the study.

You touch the handle and a zing of fear courses through you. You should just go back to bed. You don’t need to know.

You turn it and inch inside, snaking your other hand in to flick on the lights. The same. Nothing there. You shut the door and proceed to the second bedroom, the door is slightly ajar so you kick it open with your foot and let the light in the hallway pour in. Empty.

You’re imagining things. It’s being in this strange house. Whenever you stayed the night at your grandmother’s it was the same thing. If you weren’t awake, waiting for the creaks of the house to prove something sinister, you were trapped in shallow night terrors that felt too real.

You return to the bedroom. You don’t turn off the light right away. You grab your charger and plug in your phone, opening up the white noise app you never used. You scroll through the choices with their dreamy names; serenity, fantasy, rejuvenation…

Your thumb hovers over the start button as you hear something else. Muffled and hollow. You frown, you can’t tell if it’s real or your mind playing tricks. There’s such a surreal distant effect to the scream that you can’t be sure it’s not some stray cat yowling in the street. The silence that ensues feeds your doubt. You’re looking for peculiarities, that’s all.

You press play on the soothing wishing noises and set your phone on the night table. You get up to shut off the lights and quickly nestle into bed, pulling a pillow over your head to block out the room. You just need to make it through the first night.

🖤

The next day, you leave earlier than usual. The change in your bus route and prospect of a narrow transfer from one bus to the next, has you anxious. Before you leave, you double check that you have your bus pass and some spare change just in case. You hook your bag around your shoulder, the security system announcing your exit; ‘front door open’.

You pull the door shut and hit the lock icon on the pad. You test the handle to make sure it’s closed and for a moment, you’re disoriented as you hear the door unlock but it doesn’t budge. You frown and look up as a shadow emerges from the unit next to yours. It wasn’t your door.

A man with long brown hair poking out from under a ball cap turns to punch in his code before locking it. The pad flashes red confirming the door is secured. He scowls at the handle as he drops his arm straight, his hand balling to a fist as he mutters.

“Morning,” you greet, the typical squeaky greeting you give to your neighbours.

He winces and turns as he looks up at you. You must’ve surprised him. You give an apologetic wave and tight-lipped smile. His blue eyes shock you, bold but bright in his chiseled face. He tilts his head slightly before he spins without response and stalks away. You watch his broad shoulders as he marches across the street without looking.

Not the friendliest of neighbours but the first one you’ve encountered. It’s a little less offputting knowing you’re not the only one around. You let out a long breath and make your way down the paved pathway to the sidewalk. You peek back at the unit next door. The curtains are drawn and the place looks dark even at the peak of day.

You shrug it off. You should only be there for a couple more days. That’s it. That’s all you have to get through.