#dark steve rogers x y/n

[highonmarvel]

Dilated [2] | Food

Steve Rogers bumps into a woman whose pupils are larger than normal.

} previous part: [Scattered]

This is a dark fic. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Content warnings found here!

[Note: I can’t believe it’s been nearly a year, what the fuck is wrong with me]

“I’m… fine…” you manage between shaky breaths. “I’m fine,” you repeat, trying to be firm but you end up sounding agitated, which he frowns at.

“You’re not. You need help.”

As if you don’t know that, as if you haven’t been told a million times, and as if you haven’t tried. What can he offer you that centre after centre can’t? Sure, he’s a superhero, but how much experience does he have with the everyday person? It begins to anger you, that a man who deals with intergalactic forces therefore thinks he’s automatically qualified to help with the complex issue of addiction. Who the fuck does he think he is? The Avengers only deal with physical threats, and big ones, at that—what can he do for you? A woman who’s given up on getting her life back on track—a life she didn’t even like, mind you, even before all this. If anything, you feel his interdimensional experience renders him less qualified in the intricacies of the human mind.

“Thank you, for your concern,” is all you can reply without being overly rude. You pull your knees to your chest and shiver, drying sweat suddenly making you feel cold, or just on edge. Steve leaves for a bit and returns with a blanket, which he drapes over your shoulders. How did he know where to get a blanket? Was he snooping around? Did he find something?

You pull the corners of the sheet covering you into one of your fists, sitting on top of your shaking knees.

How do you get him to leave? He doesn’t seem to want to, and could you really ask him to do that after he was so kind? And how can you just tell Captain America to get out?

“I’ll check myself into rehab tomorrow,” you lie. “Just wanted one more night, I guess. I know I have to stop, I’m not in denial or anything.”

“If you were going to check yourself in you would have done that already,” he counters, with a look halfway between an eye roll and a frown in nature, like a teacher disappointed in a schoolchild for passing off an excuse as to why they didn’t do their homework. “What are you on?”

You shrug, because you genuinely don’t know; a few months ago, you overheard some people at a club saying Sharon’s got the good stuff and followed them to her, asked her to give you whatever she gave them, and it hit, so you never asked for the name.

You can’t tell if he believes you or not before he swerves to his next question. “Who do you get it from?”

You pause, unsure if you should say; of course you could: getting Sharon in trouble with an Avenger might be good revenge, but you know she’s a little more powerful than she lets on. You narrow your eyes at him. “Why should I tell you?”

He sits, leans forward—forearms resting on his muscular thighs—with a stoic expression. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make your life hell.”

A chill runs down your spine and you pull the blanket around you tighter still.

“I think you should leave. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“But I have a lot to say to you.”

You’re almost in awe at this change from the Steve Rogers you see on the news. Sure, celebrities are fake all the time, but he’s a superhero—furthermore, he’s some American Golden Boy: the absolute definition of The Boy Next Door, he represents the American ideal.

Yet now, now he might as well be holding you hostage in your own home until you listen to him, those bright blue eyes reporters and cameras adore are suddenly dark and scary.

“Look,” he goes on, voice low, “I was gonna do this an easier way, be nice, I just wanted your help.” Why would he need the help of some random woman? You are one hundred thousand percent sure there are literally billions of people more qualified than you. “But now…” his jaw clenches and he looks away, bobbing his knee up and down a few times before settling and turning back to you, gaze holding some unexpected and intense sincerity to it. “Now, I need to start making orders. What Sharon’s involved in is bigger than whatever you know, but she’s also been really close to us—the Avengers—and will know basically any move we make; SHIELD, even our most top secret agents, she knows about them.”

His switch from threatening to sincere seriousness makes you hesitate.

“And so,” he goes on, “We need someone on the inside, and someone she’d never suspect.”

“Do you honestly think I’m in any condition to work?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t give a shit. This is bigger than you, or me, or any single person. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do for the greater good.”

This time, you can’t repress the disgusted snort you let out, unsteadily climbing to your feet. “Mr Rogers, I thank you for your service to this great nation, but I don’t love this soil enough to bow down to risk my life,” you say as you make your way to the front door. You open it and look at him expectantly.

Surprisingly, he stands and walks over to the door without protest. He stops just before he steps into the corridor, leaning down to speak into your ear, his voice having dropped to a dangerously low tone, “You risk your life by saying No to me.”

Your breath catches in your throat for a moment and your lips part as he slowly straightens himself again and fixes his jacket over his shoulders, tugging just harsh enough so you get the message. And you can do nothing but stare up at him with wide eyes through wide pupils, shaking slightly, but you can’t tell if it’s because you haven’t had your fix or if you’re scared.

He gives a tight-lipped sort-of smile before leaving and closing the door behind him. For good measure, you place your palm against it, straining to hear for what would be his disappearing footsteps, but you’re so unable to focus you can’t tell if the rhythmic sounds are your heartbeats or his steps. With shaky hands, you put the key in the lock and turn it, not before dropping it a few times. And you can’t help but feel a little silly doing it—as if a locked door would keep Captain America out. With a sigh, you push off the door and make your way to the kitchen, swaying as you rummage through the little food you have for painkillers, your head throbbing like it’s pumping constant blood straight to pound right against your eardrums. You pop a few into your hand and throw your head back, pretty much downing them without water; the powdery taste wouldn’t bother you so much (in fact, you’re not really sure why your sense of taste is weakened) if it didn’t invoke a weird burning sensation scratching against your throat, which you counteract by downing a large glass of water.

Suddenly, it’s unbelievably hot, and you drop the blanket from your shoulders, carelessly stepping out of it as you stumble out of the kitchen, vision swaying as you feel your way to your bedroom. There’s definitely something a little off, but with your other issue, you really can’t be all that bothered why your bedroom no longer feels like a safe space, but a representation of how stuck you are.

✯

When you wake up the next day, after throwing up a few times in the bathtub, you actually feel better—only a little, but light no longer blinds you, makes you hiss like a vampire, and it seems your body temperature is adjusting to normal; you’re not longer excessively sweating and shivering and unable to decide if you’re going to freeze to death or overheat and melt into a puddle on the floor. You decide you need to get some food down if you want to be in any condition to go for a walk, a little one, just to feel like you’ve got some control and can function as a regular person, or at least pass for one.

You freeze in the doorway of your kitchen: the blanket is gone. Your senses must still be out of whack, because you didn’t hear anything, or smell anything, but on the counter sits a plate of eggs and a glass of orange juice, with a note tacked onto the cup. You tentatively step into the living room, eyes flicking up and down for signs of life. Nothing. The front door is still locked, too. You know it had to have been Steve who made the meal, and you seriously doubt he would poison you, but something about it feels dangerous, like if you eat it, you’re certainly losing a game of some kind, or sending a subtle message of submission, which he’ll no doubt take and run with. But you really need to eat. You pick up the plate and walk over to the bin, contemplating whether to scrape off the food or just be grateful.

“Don’t be rude.”

You shriek and let go of the dish, but instead of shattering to the floor, a strong arm catches it and the voice lets out a chuckle.

“You clearly didn’t read the note,” he scoffs as he sets the plate back down on the counter. He raises his eyebrows at you and rolls his eyes. “Your heart’s gonna explode if you don’t calm down. Really—eat.”

You flinch when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind, but are helpless as he steers you towards the barstool at the counter, giving you a pat on the shoulder when you sit and walking back to the other side, watching you expectantly.

You avert his gaze and drop your eyes down to the eggs he’s clearly carefully prepared and plated, a neat presentation sitting in the centre of the plate. He places a fork down next to you and the soft clutter feels too much of a strain on your ears, making you wince.

“I know the feeling,” he says. “Sensitive hearing. Took me a little bit to get used to it—back in the day, your thumping heart would have driven me crazy.”

Again, he brings that up, and your face twists, something like disgust vaguely playing at the invasion of privacy. As if being in your home wasn’t enough, the respite you could have taken in your thoughts is exposed, too—sure, he can’t read minds, but his irritating (and nearly scary) ability to notice the slight changes in your physiology might as well grant him the ability to detect changes in your mood.

You pick up the fork, gripping it tightly in your hand, digging your elbow into the marble countertop as you think, feeling pressure from his stare on you. You clear your throat and instead turn your attention to the glass of orange juice, with a sticky note attached to it. You lightly tug it off and bring it to your eyes, trying so fucking hard to get the letters to stop swimming.

You’ll feel better is written in cursive with a smiley face next to it.

Your gaze flickers up to him, and he offers a smile like the one he drew. You drop the piece of paper and direct your attention back to the food. You can’t refuse it anymore. Carefully, you pick a little with the fork and bring it to your lips, closing your eyes as you chew and then swallow. You can’t really taste it, but after a few seconds of it going down, you feel a little better, like the fog in your mind is slowly clearing up with each bite you take. When you finish the plate relatively quickly, you look up at him skeptically—of course it was expected you’d feel better if you got some food down, but you can’t really believe it’s just that that’s making you so much better so much quicker.

He winks at you as you take a sip of the juice. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours.” He grins. “That stuff would be a lot more potent if you were half as decent right now. It’s nearly as strong a dose as I got all those years ago.”

⍟

[my beloved taglist: @thehydraethereal, @cowboysnbugs, @buck-star, @keito-123, @vogueprincess, @cjand10]

[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 

[bandsofmarv]

Mine to keep

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brow furrowed. “Are you jealous?”

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

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

“Let’s go,” he growled.

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[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.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The noise around you suddenly stopped, everyone was speechless. 

“Wait!” You called out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lord Rogers rolled his eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thumps can be heard and The King whips back around only for his eyes to widen as Steve stands toe-to-toe with him and his guards lay dead around them. “I said, I can’t have you do that, sir. I want Y/n-Odette and as long as she has you, she will never fully devote herself to me.” Steve towers over the short King, making him seem as tiny as an ant. “I may have screwed up this evening but she will be mine.” 

“S–Ste–” King William is cut off by Steve’s hand gripping his throat, his eyes bulged and skin begins to turn purple. 

Everything had turned black after you were pulled from the carriage, unaware of what had happened with your father. You woke up surrounded by water but you felt weird causing you to look down, shock and fear shoot through you as you see white. You were no longer in your body, instead of a human body it had been replaced with that of a swans. 

“Y/n–Odette.” Hope ran through you as you heard Steve’s voice, your eyes darting around until they landed on his large figure. “You’re finally awake, my little swan.” That hope that had built inside of you had come crashing down once you realised that he wasn’t there to save you. Your body moves, gliding across the water, distancing yourself away from the man you thought you had known. “Don’t let the small spell make you sad, Y/n–Odette. It doesn’t last the whole day, as soon as the moon comes up…” 

Steve didn’t need to finish, creeping across the lake the moonlight touched your wing. Water began to swirl from below, your swan-like self rose upward in a shimmering golden-grey light, transforming you into your human form. 

Steve grins. “That’s how it will be until you are mine, Little Swan.” He said as you landed gently on the shore. “You have to be on the lake, of course and when the moonlight touches your wings, you’re human!” 

You turned away from him, betrayal blossoming within you. Your thoughts went to your father. “My father… Is he okay?” 

“Define okay…” 

You spun around, eyes wide and full of tears. “What did you do to him?!” 

Steve merely shrugs. “I may have killed him.” 

You gasp, reeling back as the tears begin to slowly fall. “Y–you…” 

Steve moves closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek but you move your head. His brows furrow as anger seeps in but he shakes it off, allowing you this. “Killed him, yes. I had to, otherwise I couldn’t have you, Y/n-Odette.”

“You can’t have me now, Steve! You killed my father! You kidnapped me and trapped me at this lake forever!” Your eyes meet his, so many emotions swirl around behind them. “I could’ve gotten over you only liking me for my looks but this… This is too much. You’re not the man I thought you were. The man I grew to love…” 

“Now, don’t speak like that, Y/n-Odette. Sooner or later you are going to cave into being mine. You’ll learn to love this version of me.” He grabs your chin, ignoring how you fight against his hold and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Don’t fight it, little swan. You’ll be mine soon.” And with those words, he leaves. Leaving you alone and broken, your body hits the ground as sobs break free, your pain filling the forest around you. 

Days, weeks, maybe even months go by without you giving into Steve and his advances. No matter what he did, you remained silent and distant. You began to enjoy your swan form, using it as an excuse to escape your human problems. 

On the other hand, Steve was slowly losing it. He began taking his anger out on everyone else, those who loved and admired him, now feared him. His mother thought that it had something to do with your disappearance and your father’s death. Only if she knew the truth would she hate the man her son became.

Steve grew impatient, he didn’t understand why you weren’t his already. Why did you have to be so stubborn? Did you not see how much he loved you? “What else do I have to do, Buck? She’s supposed to be mine.” He put his head in his hands. His best friend watched him from the doorway, arms crossed. 

“I don’t think you’re being rough enough. You’re being too sweet on her, Steve. A woman like her needs rough handling, someone to dominate her.” Bucky pushes off of the wall and moves closer to his friend. “You need to stop playing Mr. Nice guy.” 

Steve nods, standing and patting Buck’s shoulder with a smile. “You’re right, Buck.” His smile slowly turns into a smirk. “I guess it’s time to go get my girl.” And with that, he walks out of the castle and into the woods. 

Steve reached his destination the moment moonlight shone on the lake, watching golden-grey swirls appear as your form changes from swan to human. He grins, sauntering straight towards you. “Little swan. As beautiful as ever.” He shakes off the strange feeling that appears when you brush off his words, already ignoring and moving away from him. Too bad Steve had already reached you before you could distance yourself further. 

He pulls you closer to him, gripping your chin roughly as he forces you to look him in the eyes. “I don’t appreciate this attitude, Y/n-Odette. You’re mine and I am going to make you see that whether you like it or not.” You shiver under his hold as he growls. Steve pulls you over to a tree and pushes you up against it, your dress bunching up against your hips as he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Your pulse quickens and your eyes widen, you push against his shoulders with poor attempts. Deep down you wanted this, you just didn’t like the person he became. “N–no, no. Steve. You… You can’t do this. Please.” 

Steve caresses your cheek, smiling almost too sweetly at you. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, Y/n-Odette. You’re mine. We’re meant to be together.” His hand moves, gripping your chin with his thumb. His eyes fall to your lips as your mouth opens slightly. “I’m going to make you my wife, my Queen, little swan. Then you will bear my children.” 

You shake your head, ignoring how you throb at the thought. “I’m done waiting for you to give in, Y/n-Odette. You need to understand that you’re already mine.” Steve presses against you, feeling you throb against his clothed cock. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me, little swan.” A small whine slips through your lips. “Just give in. Let me make you feel good.” You gasp as he pulls you into a kiss, all thoughts leaving your mind as his lips begin to move, pulling you deeper into his hold. Steve nips your bottom lip, sliding his tongue inside as a moan escapes your mouth. 

You barely notice as he frees himself, sliding his hardened cock between your lips. Your grip tightens on his shoulders, pulling away slightly. “S–Steve…” 

His hand moves, caressing your cheek. “Shh, little swan. It’s okay.” Your mouth drops and eyes roll back as he slides into you, filling you to the brim with one thrust. “That’s my good girl, feel so good for me.” Steve grunts, pressing you into the tree harder while he holds back from roughly fucking into you. You go limp in his arms, never having felt this amount of pleasure before, not even the times when you had touched yourself. 

“O–oh… Steve…” 

Steve smirked to himself, “Is that all you needed, little swan? My cock? If I had known all I had to do was fuck you to get you like this, I would’ve done it along time ago.” You want to argue back, huff and disagree with him but he was right, you couldn’t think when he was inside of you. His grip on you tightens before he suddenly begins to fuck you, slowly pulling out only to roughly thrust back in. Your moans trapped in your throat and your back arches, pressing close to his. 

Steve grunts, his eyes locked on your face. He felt smug that the pleasure you were feeling was caused by him. He changes the angle of his hips, his cock sliding deeper inside of you, hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. Your hands grip Steve’s back, nails clawing into any skin you can find.

Steve’s hand moves up, his thumb swiping the necklace that lay around your neck. His hips not stopping as he stares deep into your eyes. “The moment I gave you this necklace, Y/n-Odette was the moment you became mine, there was no stopping this fate. You’re stuck with me, little swan.” 

Your walls clench around him as he claims you. His thrusts pick up as he begins to pound into you, chasing his release. He grips your hips and neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. The moment his lips meet yours, it feels like your mind has become cloudy, unable to think about anything other than the feeling of him inside you. You didn’t know how someone’s lips had the power to wipe your mind clean of any thoughts. 

Steve shoves a hand between your legs, his fingers finding your swollen clit and immediately pressing on it. Rolling it between his fingers before stroking it while his cock continues to hit deep inside. “Cum for me, little swan. Let me feel you milk my cock.” Steve groans, pressing closer to you as he whispers against your lips. 

Your head falls back against the tree, feeling your cunt pulse and throb as Steve continues to rub your swollen clit and thrust against the sweet spot deep inside you. “Go on, little swan. Cum for me.” Your eyes cross as Steve buries himself deep inside of you, your toes curl as you squeeze him. You feel your orgasm ripple through you, your moans echoing throughout the forest.

“My good little swan.” He growls out as he fucks into you before his cum shoots out, painting your walls a pretty white. As Steve softens inside of you, he pulls back to look at your face and grins almost evilly, the back of his hand stroking your cheek. “You’re going to make such a pretty Queen, little swan.”

You would learn that you may think you know someone but everyone has a little bit of darkness lurking within and you just happened to be the target.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[navybrat817]

https://www.tumblr.com/navybrat817/773964651350360064/gummydummy19-zanephillips-richard-armitage?source=share

Why would you do this? 😭

I just reblogged it, nonnie! But let's imagine, shall we?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Warnings: Masturbation, oral sex (referenced), unprotected sex (referenced), stalking, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers (they're warnings, okay?)

Banner by the talented @cafekitsune

Bucky/Steve who is away on a mission and brought a piece of your clothing with them. You’ll never understand why he wants your ruined underwear so much, but you don't argue. Your lingering scent makes his mouth water while he strokes his thick cock and he wishes he was home to bury his tongue deep inside. It isn't always your underwear he brings. Sometimes it’s a shirt or cardigan. He can pretend he’s taking it off before latching onto a nipple. The little gasp you always let out when he does drives him crazy. And you aren't getting out of bed when he gets home.

Bucky/Steve who lives next door to you and one of your shirts somehow ends up in his basket. He knows it’s wrong to jerk off with the garment on his face, but he does it anyway. It smothers his grunts and moans as he imagines what it would feel like to split you open with his cock. You're such a sweetheart with your little waves and smiles, but he wants to see you cry from pleasure. Maybe the other neighbors will hear you scream his name so they know who you belong to.

Bucky/Steve who works for your dad and knows he isn't supposed to touch you, but wants to. You leave your sweater behind on accident one day after a gathering and he uses it before returning it. He moans your name and swipes his thumb over his tip, wondering if you would tease his length and balls with your tongue or if you would beg for him to fuck your throat. You’ll look so beautiful down on your knees, your cunt practically dripping with the need for him to fuck that hole, too. Your dad will have to accept that you belong to him.

Bucky/Steve who doesn't mean to start stalking you. It just happens. You need someone to look after you. So, it isn't his fault he’s currently laying on your bed, touching himself like he watched you do the night before. His fingers will stretch your pussy much better than your own, and he’ll make room for his cock. He may finish on the fabric and leave it in the middle of the bed for you as a teaser for what’s to come. Because the next time he does it'll be inside you. And you’ll thank him for it.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business. ❤️ Love and thanks! ❤️

[eccentricallygothic]

Psycho Husband!Steve Rogers who is a crazed coercive bastard.

Warning(s): Noncon, misogyny/sexism, depraved housewife kink, head shaving/hair cutting, he's a mental mf who thinks he is only doing what's best for you; cruel punishments are care and better sense according to him, age gap, fear kink, infantilization, humiliation, size kink. MDNI. 

. . .

You meekly sit atop your husband, Steve Rogers' lap as he feeds himself and you the dinner you meticulously prepared for him as he cares greatly for detail and perfection. 

The older man hums with each bite, one large paw caressing your back from over the thin -nearly sheer- material of one of the many dresses that make up the entirety of your wardrobe. 

“Absolutely delicious, baby, good job” he has been praising you with each bite and so you cannot help but smile at the compliments, your smaller body resting against his as you gently comb his hair with your fingers.

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

“Thank you, my heart” you kiss his cheek that he had shaved just this morning when you were on your knees getting rid of his morning wood. He usually does that at night but you chose to wear a certain dress yesterday that caused for you to remain trapped in bed from the moment he got home till the both of you woke up tangled and sticky.

“See?” Now his fingers silkily glide up the length of your spine, past its dents that appear on your nape and towards your scalp that holds no barriers between your skins. “Wasn't I right?” Steve's fingertips flex all over your shiny head that he keeps empty from any hurdle between yourself and him. “Didn't it make things all better for us, hm?” Your tongue grows heavy and you feel it beginning to swell.

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

“Yes, hubby, you were” you feel him stroke the bald crown of your head and the feeling of his coarse skin rubbing your soft and moisturized one sends shivers down your spine. 

His dark but relaxed blue eyes watch you, outwardly friendly but secretly inspecting you closely for the tiniest slip up. “Just too stupid to see it back then, weren't you?”

You nod nervously, offering him a smile as you avert your gaze from his, choosing to awkwardly play with his dress shirt instead. “Yes, hubby, I was.” Before you look up momentarily. He hates it when you don't look at him while speaking. “Thank you for teaching me better.” 

“And what did I teach you?” You bite your tongue, his words scalding your ears. 

Of course, he wants you to say it.

It is a routine that he likes to do every night. 

“That you are always right because you know better.” You resist the urge to cringe from how he suddenly gives you a burst of praise head rubs. 

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

He knows you don't like his hand rubbing your bald head like you're some kind of an animal and he still does it.

You've made the mistake of fighting back one too many times in the past.

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

“Yeah?” His eyes begin to dance all over your form in that lewd fashion of theirs. “And how did I teach you that?” This is nothing new, and yet your heart drops.

“You taught me by…” Your face becomes hot from the embarrassment and humiliation. “B- By…” Fuck.

Even after all this time, it's no easier to do it. 

“By?” You can feel his sick arousal poke into the back of your thigh. He shifts to readjust himself. “Know what, honey?” He actually has the gall to sound friendly like he's doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart. “I'll help your little mind out by giving you a hint.” You cannot hold his gaze anymore. So you drop your eyes and train them on his collars as you whimper into his cheek from how he hugs you closer with the arm he has draped around you. He loves proximity. “It had something to do with a machine and a cute head” his long fingers caress your scalp in circular motions.

Your heart is erratic against his chest. “H–” the whimper you let out is shaky and pathetic. Your expression falters into one of pain but you recover just as fast. At least on the outside. “T- Taught me by shaving my head.”

Steve's smirk is one of pride. “Oh? And what setting did I shave it on? Did I leave anything behind or did you become a complete cueball?” 

Tears sting your eyes from the sensitivity and helplessness as you feel your throat tighten even more. “N- No, hubby. Nothing was left. You shaved it all off…” Closing your eyes momentarily is the only way you can let out your next words. “Until I was a cueball.”

“And why was that, huh, baby?” Now he speaks to you like you're a child. 

He does that when he is horny. 

The realization makes your stomach twist.

“B- Because you warned me many times but—” your voice breaks and you softly sob into his cheek all of a sudden because the memories overwhelm you. “I didn't l- listen and my hair kept getting in the food I would prepare for you.” He somberly cooes and lowers your head forwards in a submissive position to caress the links of your spine.

“Oh, honey. Is that what happened?” Though Steve rests his cheek atop your bald head that he keeps shiny with scented oils and feigns sadness his bulge is too stiff against your tender skin for his little act to hold any weight. 

“Yes, hubby.” Your tears fall on your lap. 

“And how did it happen, huh, darling?” He loves the helplessness of your situation. That has got to be it. “Can you tell me?”

You nod and swallow the bile in your throat. Denial is not an option. “The scary razor went all over my head, hubby” you make yourself sound like a baby because that's what he likes. “Like buzz buzz buzz~” you try to mimic the sound and gesture as you run a pretend trimmer over your naked scalp. 

“Aw, it was scary for your little baby self, was it?” You timidly nod, pouting a little. “That's because you're so small and easily scared, aren't you?” He presses kisses all over your head and pinches your cheek. 

“Yes, hubby.” 

“Aw, my poor girl” he cups your face and lets his thumb trace the shape of your mouth. “I get it, you’re just a baby” he cannot but kiss you deeply before speaking again. 

“But it was necessary, wasn't it? And it worked” it is typical of him to seek validation for his unhinged actions from you, probably helps him sleep easier and pumps his pompousness further. “No more hair in the food.” He smiles and forces you to look at him by tipping your head back.

“No more hair in the food.” You echo him like the hollow doll he has made of you.

“Awww” he chuckles at the dejection in your voice. “Cheer up, silly. You look just as perfect as the first moment I laid my eyes on you” his lips repeatedly peck yours for a few moments. Then he continues. “I am the only one whose opinion matters for you and I think you're the most gorgeous thing alive” he scoops you up in his arms before standing up and you give him a smile like you're supposed to. He leans in to capture it in his own. ���The cueball only makes you sexier and more nude for me. So it's a win all around” you whimper into the words he utters against your mouth. “C'mon, hubby will make you feel all better.” He whispers before carrying you to the bedroom. It is impossible not to be aware of your devastation and that is why he offers compensation the way he does. “Yeah?”

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

If you made it down here, hi you're cool. 

[highonmarvel]

Dilated [1] | Scattered

Steve Rogers bumps into a woman whose pupils are larger than normal.

} previous part: [Prologue]

content warnings here!

You startle at the contact and quickly slap his hands off, immediately groaning at the cramp suffocating your left upper arm as you pull it back. You can’t really see the tall man in front of you through your watery eyes, and you can’t wipe your eyes due to your sweaty palms.

You’re struggling to really comprehend what he’s saying; you know he asked if you’re okay, and then?

“Can I take you home?” his voice comes through hazily.

“Wh- What?” you ask, the question immediately flying out of your head as your eyes rapidly scan the streets, like looking for signs of danger, when you’re sure there aren’t any.

“Can I take you home,” he repeats, slowly and louder. You turn your head to wipe your face on your shoulder as he continues, “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

That’s Captain America, no?

With your eyes less blurry now, you’re just able to make out the blue eyes and golden hair under the warm streetlights.

“Okay!” is all you can muster, and you’re not sure to what he took it: okay to take you home or okay that’s his name? Maybe you should give your name in response but you don’t, you can’t. When he asks for your address, you snap something at him that you think is where you live, though you can’t tell through your irritation; he’s really agitating you for some reason; he’s done nothing, but he’s got you annoyed, or maybe you’re just annoyed in general after Sharon cut you off. You wonder why, because it’s not like she doesn’t have a supply, and it’s not like she cares whether you live or die.

You stumble a few times and sway slightly as you stay just a little ahead of him in beat to get to your flat but refuse his offer of a strong, steady arm around your waist to keep your stable. You don’t want to touch him at all, feeling hot and hotter even just walking beside him, everything radiating heat, but especially his body.

You get to the entrance of your building and push your shoulder against the door to stumble into the hall. You don’t notice Steve come in behind you under he places a large hand on the small of your back and you jump in fright with a yelp, whipping around to face him.

“Sorry!” he apologises, “I’m sorry, but I really need to make sure you get in safe. Is that okay?”

You wish he would stop talking, and you guess he knows you’re not really processing what he’s saying, but you don’t really have the drive to snap at him, just letting him trail you as you walk up four flights of stairs to get to your door. He stays alert behind you, ready for you to fall backwards and into his arms, but you make it, surprising even yourself.

You fumble with your keys, ignoring his offer to help as you drop the key four times before you get it in the lock and then another three trying to turn it. You don’t kick off your shoes, don’t take off your jacket or even pull your sling bag off, you just crash face first into the couch and fall right asleep.

✯

Steve is surprised at your exhaustion. His first guess was heroin withdrawal but that’s more likely to cause insomnia, and then he worries you may have died in front of him, but your breathing slowly returning to regular and your snoring assure him you’re alive. Well, barely.

He has to stay overnight, how can he just leave you like this? Tomorrow will probably be worse, you can’t be alone by yourself right now. He’s not sure if he should pull a blanket over you, take your shoes off and rest your head more comfortably on a pillow. He decides to leave you, worried if he takes one thing off he may not be able to stop.

But he should probably get something to help you, right? And he needs a glass of water himself. Your kitchen opens right into the living room so it’s easy to find. He pours himself an ice cold glass, sipping it as he walks back to you and settles in an armchair across from the sofa you’re passed out on. Your place isn’t really decorated; he can see lighter squares against your walls, and wonders if you sold those pieces of if you’ve recently moved and a previous tenant took their frames.

Maybe you’re an artist; he’s heard artists are tortured, a lot of them do drugs, or maybe a musician; he should probably check your bedroom to be sure, just to learn about you so tomorrow he can get you the appropriate help.

There are only two doors, one leading to the bathroom. He’s immediately drawn to your medicine cabinet to check if you’ve got anything here, because if you do, he needs to get rid of it. He finds more bottles of sleeping pills than needed and a prescription for depression or anxiety meds, making a mental note to flush the sedatives down the toilet in a few hours; not now, he doesn’t want to wake you.

Adjacent to the bathroom is what he assumes if your bedroom door, which he is right about, and as messy as expected (he wondered how your living room, kitchen and bathroom appeared tidy enough—if you were in this state often, you’d definitely be unable to maintain even basic cleaning). Maybe you didn’t use those rooms. Not even the bathroom?

Clothes are scattered on the floor and pillows and blankets have been thrown off the bed, sheets too, leaving a bare mattress with a small bloodstain on it. A desk sits by the window, looking out to just another red brick apartment complex, with a broken laptop and scraps of paper cluttering the surface and the ground, a small bin overflowing with paper and broken pens.

He finds a manuscript laying on the floor—so you’re a writer—and finally he can put a name to your face. Should he clean your room, or is that really weird? In less than an hour he’s developing this caring instinct, and he tells himself it’s just his job, Captain America wanting to help everyone and all, he’s a superhero after and before all.

Steve gets another cold glass of water and settles in his seat across from you. For the first time tonight, you look at peace; your eye lids aren’t moving as rapidly, your breathing is steady and deep, your limbs aren’t trembling, muscles aren’t cramped, and your wild sweating has slowed, though he can still even see the layer sticking to your skin.

✯

When you peel your eyes open, you’re grateful for the overcast weather, though you’re still a little blinded by the light. You feel like pure shit: weak and sore with a pounding headache and overwhelming nausea. You turn your head to vomit off the couch, surprised to land it in a bucket waiting for you and not your stained carpet. Blinking is hardly helping as you try to get your lashes to unstick each time they flutter. Your heartbeat is slow, slow enough that were you feeling more aware, it would concern you, and you wonder if you’re dying.

You’re hardly regaining full consciousness when your gaze finally lands on a man sitting across from you. You scream as you sit up and jump further back into the couch, but you can’t hold yourself up for long before you tumble back to the cushions, your shoulder hitting the edge making you wince in pain and heavy head lolling over the armrest, straining your neck.

“Relax, relax, you’re gonna hurt yourself, you need to calm down. I’m Steve,” he introduces himself in a friendly manner but he doesn’t smile, instead scanning your face with furrowed brows like he’s looking for any injuries.

He looks like the man from last night, yeah, and it takes you a few moments to grasp that he’s Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. Your breathing rate increases as your mind races to find a reason as to why Captain America is in your apartment. You vaguely remember being turned away again by Sharon last night, and you remember someone mentioning she was dealing some more serious shit than what you needed, had he found out about that? Thought you were an accomplice? Or maybe you were in danger; maybe Sharon had found out you knew and was going to kill you, and he was here for protection. Did you do something really illegal last night to the point one of the world’s greatest superheroes had to watch over you?

“I know who you are what are you doing here?” you plead for an answer, desperation coating your tone as your heart beats wildly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he coos, taking a step towards you and keeping his hands visible, like approaching a stray dog, “I was really, really concerned about you last night, I couldn’t in good faith leave you, I had to make sure you got home safe.”

But… it’s the morning. Did he stay all night? You kind of hope he did instead of leaving and somehow breaking into your place when you were passed out, if anything.

You’re shaking, and you can’t tell if it’s from withdrawal or if you’re scared. But why would you be scared? You have the world’s greatest protector concerned with your health and safety. Something about him is unsettling, and at first you think it’s just your agitation finding reasons for anxiety when there are none. He was just being nice, being so much more helpful than you could have ever asked for, but you can’t help but wonder, wouldn’t he have better things to do? More serious threats to take care of? Why would an Avenger prowl the streets and take such an interest in a random woman rather than an inter-dimensional threat?

Something just isn’t sitting right, and you can’t tell if it’s your scattered imagination or a real possibility of danger.

⍟

} next part; [Food]

[taglist; @cjand10, @pr300877, fill out this form if you’d like to be added]

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 21 | END

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Dark, Mystery, Betrayal.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

By the way, my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing is FREE on Kindle for a few days. Check it out!

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

You can’t leave. Not when he’s already found you. And now… you have no choice but to play Bucky’s game.

You force a smile, even though your hands are trembling. Your heart races, thudding against your chest like it’s trying to escape. Bucky steps closer and shrugs off his jacket, placing it gently around your shoulders like it’s nothing—like he didn’t just appear out of nowhere in the dead of night.

“You must be freezing,” he says softly. His voice is full of fake concern, the kind that would melt anyone else. “Where are you going this late?”

His eyes are too kind. Too knowing. His tone might fool another woman—but not you.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “My dad’s doctor just called. The surgery’s happening sooner than expected, so I was going to check in.”

Bucky exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “I knew it. I had this feeling something would happen tonight. I’m glad I followed my instincts.”

Bullshit.

You glance at your phone, trying to pretend everything’s normal. “Mind if I join you guys back to the hotel?”

Bucky smiles again, that warm, practiced smile that’s all mask and no soul. He pats Thor’s shoulder. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Inside the car, you sit in the back, clutching the jacket tighter around you even though it makes your skin crawl. Bucky slides into the passenger seat like a king reclaiming his throne. Thor starts the engine without a word.

For the first time tonight, you’re glad this town is small. Your broken-down car wasn’t that far from the hotel. Just a few minutes. Just a few minutes, you tell yourself.

To kill the silence, you blurt out, “When do you think the renovation at my house will be done?”

Bucky doesn’t turn around, but you can hear the smugness in his voice. “Probably next week.”

“Next week?” Your voice rises a little too quickly.

“Not fast enough?” he asks, amused. “I’ll tell the crew to finish in three days.”

“No—no. Next week is fast enough,” you quickly backtrack. Don’t push. Don’t make him suspicious.

You pass the new hospital under construction. The steel skeleton towers in the night, surrounded by floodlights and scaffolding. It’s quiet, too quiet—like something in a dream that doesn’t feel real.

“When it’s finished,” Bucky says with pride, “I’m bringing in the best doctors in the country. Tom won’t have to leave town again.”

You go still. He’s not just talking about your father. He’s talking about you. He’s building a town no one can escape from. A town where he decides who stays—and who belongs to him.

“That’s... great,” you say, voice thin. “No one will have to worry about their health anymore.”

The car pulls into the hotel parking lot. Relief swells in your chest like a wave—until you remember it’s only temporary. You’re still trapped.

Bucky steps out first, then circles around to open your door with exaggerated politeness. You hesitate before accepting his hand. You wish your nails were sharp enough to cut him. But now’s not the time. You have to play nice.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He studies your face. “You look pale. Want me to have dinner sent to your room?”

Your stomach twists. The last thing you want is him at your door tonight.

“No thanks,” you say quickly. “I’m not that hungry.”

He nods slowly, eyes narrowing for a split second. “Alright. But if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“All right. If you need anything, just call,” Bucky said, his voice smooth like velvet—warm on the surface, but something colder lurked underneath.

You forced a smile. A shallow curve of the lips. The kind people give in tense family dinners or awkward public events—where they have no choice but to play along. You turned from him, heels clicking against the polished tile as you walked toward the lobby.

Each step felt like walking through molasses.

You couldn’t breathe. You needed air, distance—space to think. But no matter how fast or far you tried to go, he was always one step behind. Always.

And then you heard him. The heavy footfalls. He was following.

The elevator was waiting at the end of the corridor. You tapped the call button and stared ahead, not daring to look back. You could feel him close, like a shadow stitched to your spine.

The doors slid open with a soft metallic shhhk. You stepped inside. Of course, he followed.

Now it was just the two of you in a small box of mirrors and steel. Trapped.

The hum of the elevator filled the silence. You could hear your own heartbeat. You kept your eyes trained on the digital numbers above the door. As if they were your countdown to safety.

Then his voice sliced through the stillness—calm, casual, like he was sharing a bit of gossip. “Oh, right. Since what happened to Tony… the director’s seat at the hospital is empty now.”

You blinked, confused for a second. “What?”

Bucky turned to face you slightly, his expression unreadable. “Drysdale was supposed to be the hospital’s biggest investor. But after what happened to him…” His jaw tightened just a fraction. “That’s on me.”

A chill crept up your spine.

His voice remained calm—steady—but there was something cold behind it. Like he wasn’t confessing. He was warning.

“And now that you’re here,” he continued, “it makes sense for you to take over. The hospital needs someone smart. Someone trustworthy. Someone close.”

Your throat tightened. Every alarm in your body was screaming.

You nodded quickly, trying to keep your voice level. “I’ll… think about it.”

The elevator dinged, and you didn’t wait. The doors weren’t even fully open before you slipped through the gap, striding down the hallway with quick, clipped steps. Your hands were shaking.

“Good night,” you tossed over your shoulder.

Behind you, Bucky still hadn’t moved. Still in the elevator. Still watching.

But just as you reached your room, you heard him again—so soft it sent goosebumps crawling across your skin.

“Get some rest. I have to go pick up your car.” Pause. “I’ll make sure it gets fixed properly.”

You glanced back once—just once.

He was still in the elevator. Still smiling. Like this was normal. Like he hadn’t just followed you, hadn’t just dropped a cryptic statement about a man who mysteriously vanished.

You swallowed the fear rising in your throat and turned away, heart hammering.

You fumbled the keycard into the slot with shaking fingers. The green light blinked. You slipped inside and slammed the door shut with your body pressed against it. You threw the bolt, locked the chain. Every click of the lock felt like placing a weak bandage over a bleeding wound.

The room was dim. Quiet. But not peaceful.

You weren’t safe here. Not anymore.

You backed away from the door, breathing hard. Your fingers trembled as you grabbed your charger, plugged in your phone, and called Jake.

No signal.

Your blood went cold.

You stared at the phone. That couldn’t be right. You’d used it here before. You called your lawyer from this room a few nights ago. Texted your lawyer. Checked your emails. There was always signal.

You stepped closer to the window, holding the phone up. Nothing.

Tried again. Nothing.

“Come on. Come on,” you muttered, biting your lip as your hands shook. You tried toggling airplane mode. Tried Wi-Fi. Tried every trick you knew.

Still nothing.

It didn’t feel like bad reception.

It felt… deliberate.

“Did he—” You couldn’t even say it aloud.

Was this part of it? Did Bucky somehow jam the signal? Cut it off? How far had he planned this?

You dropped the phone onto the bed and sat beside it, rubbing your hands over your face.

You felt sick.

Your body was trembling and your chest was too tight. This wasn’t a coincidence. Too many little things. Too many gestures that looked sweet on the outside but were twisted underneath. Too much control hidden in kindness.

The hospital. The car. The signal. Everything. Controlled.

You had to get out. You had to find a way to leave this town before it was too late.

Because now you understood— This wasn’t protection. This wasn’t affection. This was possession.

And you were already in the cage.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

You woke long before the sun rose. Not that you’d slept.

You'd laid in bed for hours, body still but mind spiraling—trapped in a loop of every unnerving detail from the day before. The silence in your room wasn’t comforting. It was thick. Suffocating. You kept glancing at the door, half-expecting it to rattle.

By the time light began to seep in through the curtains, dull and gray like an old bruise, you were already dressed and ready.

You tiptoed to the door, your fingers brushing over the chain lock before sliding it free. Quiet. Don’t wake him.

You cracked the door open and peeked into the hallway. Empty.

Still, your heart pounded as you slipped out, carefully pulling the door shut without a sound.

Bucky lived just across from you. Too close. Every creak of the hallway floor felt like a flare gun going off. But his door didn’t move.

You made it to the elevator and hit the button. The wait felt eternal. Ding.

You stepped inside. The doors closed with a soft hiss. The moment they sealed shut, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

For the first time in hours, you were alone. And for a moment—just one trembling moment—you felt safe.

At the Restaurant

The scent of coffee and baked goods drifted toward you as you stepped into the hotel’s restaurant. The soft clatter of cutlery and murmured conversations felt oddly surreal—normal, almost—like the world hadn’t shifted under your feet.

But then you saw him.

Jake had just walked in, brushing rain off his jacket. You didn’t wait. You marched straight toward him.

“Jake.”

He turned, surprised. “Hey, you called me—” You grabbed his wrist.

“Upps.” He chuckled, but you didn’t.

Without a word, you pulled him into a quiet corner of the restaurant—out of view from any guests, and more importantly, out of reach from the hotel’s security cameras.

“I called you last night,” you whispered, eyes darting around. “Because I need your help.”

Jake frowned. “What happened?”

You shivered.

Not from the cold.

From the memory. From the things you were piecing together. From the weight of knowing—really knowing—who Bucky had become.

Jake’s brow furrowed. “Y/N… are you okay?”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, voice trembling. “Jake… Bucky is evil.”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, I know what he did to you before. But he’s changed now. He seems—”

“No,” you cut him off. “This is different. He’s the mastermind of it all.”

Jake’s expression shifted. He was quiet. Then: “Mastermind?”

You hesitated. You had no proof. Just instincts. Fear. The way every piece of the puzzle seemed to lead back to Bucky’s hands. His watchful eyes. His reach.

“I need your help,” you said, pulling a crumpled paper from your pocket. “Call this number. When someone answers, just say: The contract has terminated. That’s it.”

Jake looked at the paper, confused but trusting. “Okay… But we might have to wait. I heard on the radio this morning—the transmission towers are down.”

Your breath caught. “So it wasn’t just my phone?”

“No. It’s town-wide. Radio, calls, internet… Everything’s messed up.”

You stared at him. Your last thread of hope thinned. “Can you do something? This is urgent, Jake. Please.”

He studied your face. Something in your eyes must’ve told him this wasn’t paranoia. This was real.

“I… I’ll try,” he promised.

You let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Jake stepped forward, voice softer. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

Then— A voice behind you. Smooth. Inevitable.

“Hey,” Bucky said. “Turns out you’re here. I was knocking on your door.”

You froze. Your pulse jumped. Jake turned stiffly. “Oh, hi Bucky. Y/N was just helping me with… calculating my taxes.” He talked too fast, shit. He's a bad actor.

“Simple, actually,” you added, voice tight. “I’ll see you later.”

You bolted. Walked quickly into the breakfast hall. But you didn’t have to look to know—he followed.

Breakfast Hall

You filled your plate slowly, eyes focused on the scrambled eggs and toast like they held state secrets.

Bucky stood close behind. Too close. His hand brushed the small of your back as he leaned forward.

“There’s no signal,” you murmured, testing. “I can’t make any calls.”

He sighed as if it annoyed him. “Yeah. Something happened at the network tower. I don’t get the details, but the mayor issued an order to fix it fast.”

Of course he did. You nodded slowly. Pretending. Smiling. Playing the part of the patient guest. But your fists clenched around the tongs.

You sat down with your tray, picking at your food. Bucky, as expected, joined your table.

You laughed at the right moments. Asked polite questions. Let your eyes soften when he talked.

And the whole time your skin crawled. Like you were being watched by something wearing a mask.

Eventually, finally, he stood. “Duty calls. I’ll check on the staff.”

You didn’t breathe until he disappeared down the hallway.

At the Information Desk

You moved fast. Straight to the information desk. Your voice low but urgent.

“Could you call a taxi for me? I need to get to the train.”

The young man behind the desk looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. The trains can’t operate either. Network’s down. Even the scheduling system is frozen.”

Your chest tightened. “The train, too?”

“Yes… Sadly, yes.”

Shit. Everything was locked. Controlled. Every way out cut off.

But then you remembered— Natasha. She mentioned heading back to the city later today. Maybe she hadn’t left yet. Perhaps she could help.

It was a long shot.

But it was the only one you had left.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The arcade reeked of sweat, old popcorn, and something faintly metallic—like rusting wires. The light inside buzzed unevenly overhead, stuttering as you stepped in. The manager sat hunched over a cracked monitor, his eyes bloodshot from too many late shifts and not enough sleep. His chair creaked as he turned slowly to face you, his face already sour with contempt.

“You,” he growled. “It was because of you she quit this morning.”

Your chest tightened. “Really?”

“Ah-ha. She came in, said she was done, and left. Packed up her locker in five damn minutes.” He tossed a grimy towel over his shoulder. “Can’t say I blame her.”

You hesitated. “Do you have her address?”

His jaw clenched. He didn’t answer for a moment, just stared at you like he was trying to burn a hole through your skull. But eventually, maybe because he didn’t care enough to fight it—or maybe because he wanted you gone—he scribbled the address on the back of a receipt and shoved it toward you without another word.

You followed the address. The roads were quiet, too quiet, like the entire town had shrunk in on itself. When you finally reached the apartment building, the air felt different—heavy, charged. You barely raised your fist to knock before the door swung open.

There stood Natasha, her jacket half-zipped and a battered suitcase dragging behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was sharp. Defensive.

“I thought…” You swallowed hard. “I thought I could come along with you.”

Her eyes narrowed, scanning you like she expected something to explode. But then, something in her posture loosened. If you were with her, it might actually work in her favor. You were well-spoken. Clean-cut. You’d be the best walking recommendation letter she'd ever have.

She sighed. “Sure. But you’re paying for gas.”

“Of course.”

Her car was old, faded yellow paint peeling at the edges, the kind that creaked when you opened the door like it might snap in two if pushed too hard. Inside smelled like gasoline and stale fast food.

As the engine sputtered to life, Natasha grumbled, “Seems like the universe fucked me. No signal. No train. So I’m stuck driving this antique.”

“You tell me.” You looked over your shoulder again.

Natasha noticed. “Why do you keep checking behind us?” Her voice was calm but probing.

You hesitated. “Did someone chase you?”

“You have no idea,” you muttered, eyes glued to the rearview mirror.

Ten minutes out of town, the needle on the fuel gauge dropped to red. Natasha swore under her breath.

“Shit. We have to refill.”

You pulled into the nearest gas station—an old, creaky thing at the edge of nowhere. A single flickering fluorescent light buzzed above. Natasha stayed near the car, lighting a cigarette, shoulders hunched against the wind.

Inside the convenience store, the air was warm but stale. The cashier looked bored, flipping through a magazine with chipped nails. You approached the counter.

“I’d like to fill up. Can I use a card? Do you have signal here?”

The cashier looked up slowly, puzzled. “Of course. Why? You don’t have signal?”

“No. Do you?”

“I’ve got full bars. No issues.”

Your stomach twisted.

Something wasn’t adding up.

You handed her your platinum card and forced a smile. “Can I… borrow your phone for a second? I need to call someone. It’s important.”

She hesitated. Looked at the card. Platinum. Her eyes softened. “Sure.”

You took the phone in trembling hands and typed in the number. It rang. You clenched your jaw.

“Come on. Pick up. Please. Please…”

Through the window, something caught your eye.

A black SUV rolled in. Smooth. Expensive. You recognized it instantly.

Thor stepped out first.

Your blood froze.

You watched in horror as he reached for the passenger door. Natasha’s eyes went wide, but before she could react, Thor was dragging her out of the car, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other twisting her arm behind her back.

“No,” you whispered, panic crashing over you in waves.

And then— The call connected.

“Hello?” a deep voice answered on the line.

You didn’t hesitate. “The contract is terminated. The contract is terminated!” The words fell from your lips like a lifeline.

You shoved the phone back to the stunned cashier and snatched your card.

Your legs moved before you could think.

You ran for the door—

—but he was already there.

Bucky.

He stepped out from behind the SUV like a ghost, too calm, too fast. His eyes locked onto you with that unreadable expression, his mouth flat, his body blocking the exit.

You turned to bolt the other way, but his hand clamped around your wrist like iron.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, struggling, but his grip didn’t even flinch.

Customers turned. The cashier looked up, startled.

“Ssst…” The sound was soft. Almost gentle. You barely had time to register it before you felt a sharp sting in your neck.

Your eyes went wide. Your limbs jerked instinctively, a burst of adrenaline flooding your system—but it was already too late. The syringe was already in.

Bucky’s grip tightened just enough to steady you. Not enough to bruise, not enough to panic the few people watching. But firm. Practiced.

Your mouth opened in a breathless gasp. The edges of your vision blurred almost instantly, like ink spreading across paper. The world tilted.

“You always made things difficult,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low, almost fond—almost.

Your knees buckled. He caught you before you hit the floor.

He held you for a second, making sure the sedative had taken full effect. His eyes scanned your face, watching the last flicker of consciousness flicker out like a dying candle.

Only then did he exhale—slow and controlled, like a man who’d been holding his breath too long. Relief and possession curled around his expression like smoke.

He turned, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. The cashier blinked at him in confusion, the silence pressing in like thick fog. Your limp body in his arms turned a few heads. The other customers froze in that awkward half-awareness, unsure if this was an emergency or a domestic drama.

“She ran away from the hospital,” Bucky said calmly, adjusting your weight in his arms. He gave the cashier a reassuring smile, that picture-perfect charm that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’s not dangerous. Just scared.”

The cashier’s brows drew together. “O-oh.”

He smoothly pulled a laminated card from his coat and handed it over. The name. The logo. The government seal.

“Here’s my card if you want to confirm anything,” he added. His voice was velvet, but underneath it was the unmistakable edge of control.

She took the card with trembling fingers, eyes flitting between the official badge and your unconscious form.

“I… okay,” she murmured, uncertainty etched into every syllable.

Before he turned to leave, he paused, still wearing that polite, terrible smile.

“Mind if I ask something?”

She nodded, slowly.

“What did she say when she called?”

The cashier swallowed. “She said… ‘The contract is terminated.’ That’s all. Just that. Nothing else.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t flicker. But something behind his eyes changed. A beat. A calculation.

“Really?” he said with a mild curiosity that didn’t match the way his jaw ticked ever so slightly. He reclaimed the ID, slipped it back into his pocket, and nodded once.

“Well. Thanks for your cooperation.” His voice was soft. Final.

He walked out with you cradled in his arms like a sleeping child, but the way he moved—sharp, focused, efficient—was the farthest thing from tender.

In the parking lot, Bucky opened the back door, laid you down gently beside Natasha, and closed it with a soft click that echoed louder than a gunshot in the still air.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, expression unreadable now.

“Contract’s terminated?” he repeated under his breath, starting the engine.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

He had no intention of letting that happen.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

You woke up slowly.

Your head throbbed, and your body felt unnaturally heavy. You blinked up at the pale ceiling, watching shadows shift as soft light filtered through drawn curtains. The air was still. Too still. There was no buzz of city traffic, no hallway chatter, no hum of a minibar. Just silence—thick, padded silence.

You sat up a little. The sheets smelled clean, unfamiliar. The bed was too soft.

Where is this?

This wasn’t a dungeon. There were no chains or stone walls. But it wasn’t your hotel room either. Not the one you remembered. The muted wallpaper, the furniture—none of it matched. For one terrifying moment, you thought: Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe you’d imagined running away, the syringe, the gas station.

You closed your eyes, trying to will the panic away.

Then came the voice.

“You’re awake.”

Your eyes snapped open.

Bucky was sitting in a chair beside your bed. Close. Too close. His posture relaxed, one arm draped over the backrest, the other resting on his knee like he’d been waiting for hours.

Your heart shot up into your throat. You pushed back, inching away, your hands clutching at the blanket like it could protect you.

He saw it. The fear in your eyes.

And it hurt him.

“I would never hurt you,” he said, softly, like a promise he wished you could believe. But you didn’t. And he knew it. That terrified look on your face—it wasn’t part of the plan. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were supposed to understand. To forgive. To stay.

“The one piece missing,” he murmured, mostly to himself, “is you.”

You forced your voice out, your throat dry and scratchy. “Where is Natasha?”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, like he was weighing how honest to be. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“She’s fine,” he said at last. “Unless you try to leave me. Then maybe not.”

Your breath hitched.

“I admire you, you know,” he continued, tone unnervingly gentle. “Even after everything she’s done to you… you still helped her. You still cared.” He leaned closer, voice almost reverent. “You’re different. Completely different from all of us.”

There was something too smooth in his voice now. Too careful. He was speaking sweetly, lovingly—but it tasted like poison. The tension in the air was unbearable. It coiled around your throat.

“Why… why are you doing this?” you whispered.

He blinked. Then his eyes widened, surprised you even had to ask.

“Is it not clear enough?” he said, softly.

He leaned back, dragging a hand down his face. And then—finally—he let it spill.

“I never apologized to you. Not once,” he said, eyes unfocused, voice lowering. “I made your life hell. I ruined it. Because I blamed your family for stealing my dad.”

Each word came like a confession he’d been holding for years. His face twisted, as if the weight of it all was finally too much.

“I made everyone hate you in school. Every cruel rumor, every whispered lie—I was the one pulling the strings. I was the designer of your misery.”

He didn’t look at you when he said it. Couldn’t.

“But then I found out it wasn’t your family’s fault.” He let out a hollow laugh. “Your mother had cut ties with Alex. Your mother never wanted anything to do with him again. It was him. My dad. He was the one who couldn’t let go.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched.

“He listened to her wish… but he never stopped watching her. Wanting her. Imagine that—seeing the woman you love every day and knowing you can’t have her.” He looked up at you, and this time, there was something broken in his eyes. “That’s how I feel when I see you.”

You stared, frozen. It was too much. Too fast.

“After graduation, I ran. Left the town. I was ashamed. I studied overseas to get away. But I never stopped thinking about you.” He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. “I lost my mind. I know that. I went too far.”

He looked back at you. “I orchestrated everything. Jake, Natasha losing his job. Thor and Steve—those accidents weren’t accidents. I’m the reason their lives fell apart.”

Your stomach dropped. “You… you’re the one who—?”

“I’m the mastermind,” he said without flinching.

You felt cold spread through your entire body.

“Why?” you whispered.

“Because they deserved it. I deserved it.” His voice cracked—finally cracking.

You wanted to scream. To run. But your voice caught in your throat. You stared at the man in front of you—this boy who once haunted your high school halls with smirks and whispered threats—now grown, twisted, obsessed.

He leaned forward again. “All I ever wanted to hear from you… just once… was this: ‘Thank you, Bucky, for what you’ve done. You punished everyone who made my life hell.’”

You looked at him, blinking through the disbelief.

“…No,” you said quietly. “You’ll never hear that from me. You’re not a judge. You’re just obsessed with rewriting the past.”

His face faltered. His expression cracked open like a window in a storm. Disappointment flashed like lightning across it. For a long, long second, he didn’t say anything.

Then he stood.

“Just rest,” he murmured. His tone was resigned. “Soon, you’ll appreciate what I’ve done.”

He walked to the door and closed it behind him with a heavy click.

You sat frozen for a beat, then launched yourself from the bed. Your legs trembled but you forced them to move. You ran to the window—locked. You rattled the door—also locked.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. You finally realized. You were trapped.

Days passed.

You didn’t know how many. The room blurred into itself—same sheets, same soft lamps, same suffocating stillness. Bucky came every day. Brought food. Always calm. Always too sweet. Like this was normal. Like you belonged here.

You never ate.

Until one day, he set the tray down and said:

“Do you want me to put a strap on you so you can eat?”

That made your blood run cold.

“No,” you said quickly.

You picked up the spoon.

After that, he changed. Loosened.

You weren’t confined to the room anymore. You could walk. Breathe.

And when you finally stepped out—barefoot, heart hammering—you realized the truth.

You weren’t in a facility. You weren’t in a bunker.

You were in his home.

A beautiful, sterile house tucked away in the woods, where no one could hear you scream.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The house was quiet—too quiet. Every footstep echoed like a warning. The walls were white, sterile, with picture frames that felt too curated to be real. As you followed the faint sound of murmuring, your heart thudded louder with each step.

Then, you saw her.

Lydia sat in a dimly lit lounge, slouched in a faded armchair that had likely once been elegant. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in thin slashes of daylight that made her skin look almost translucent. Her frame had withered into itself. Collarbone sharp, wrists too delicate. A robe hung off her body like it belonged to someone else. On the table before her—dozens of pill bottles scattered like forgotten chess pieces. Half-empty. Some knocked over. Some with their labels torn off.

You froze. You didn’t mean to stare, but the shock rooted you.

She noticed. Her bloodshot eyes flicked toward you. Her voice was raspy, drained from something that went far deeper than exhaustion. “I wish I never gave birth to him,” she said, like she was coughing up venom.

You blinked, stunned—but only for a moment. “Every child is a blessing,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected. “He became like this because of you. And your husband.”

The slap came in words. “You bitch!”

The hiss of her voice cut the air just as—

“Mother.” Bucky’s voice, sharp and low, sliced through the tension like a blade.

Both you and Lydia turned. His shadow filled the doorway. The moment his eyes landed on you, something in them flickered—panic, protectiveness, maybe even guilt.

“Don’t you ever speak to her like that again,” he said, jaw clenched. He stepped further inside.

Lydia didn’t flinch. She scoffed, picked up a pill bottle, turned it in her hand. “It’s not like she understands your feelings. Just like her mother. Playing every man’s heart like a toy.”

The room dropped ten degrees.

He exhaled—long and heavy. A quiet fury, tightly reined in. Then, with a hand lightly on your back, Bucky guided you out.

The hallway swallowed the confrontation behind you. He didn’t speak until you were out of sight from her door.

“I’ll take care of her,” he said quietly. “She won’t talk to you like that again.”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes stayed ahead. His hand lingered on your back like it belonged there—but it didn’t.

There was a pause. Then he tried again, gentler this time. “I’ve prepared dinner. For the two of us.”

You stopped walking. His words hung in the air, brushing your skin like invisible wires.

Your stomach curled at the thought—but what were your choices? Say no and risk another version of a locked room? Say yes and play the part?

You nodded. Just once.

That was all he needed. His entire face softened with relief, lips curving in a small smile—as if your silence meant progress. As if he believed he was winning you over.

He didn’t know your silence was survival. He didn’t know every nod you gave was calculated.

Still, that smile... it chilled you more than his threats ever did.

The dining room was beautiful, and wrong.

A chandelier spilled warm light over the long table, casting soft shadows that danced on polished wood. The clink of cutlery, the glow of red wine in crystal glasses, and the soft music playing somewhere far in the background tried to sell a lie: that this was normal. That you were just another couple sharing dinner in a grand home.

The food was plated perfectly—steak, mashed potatoes, a side of greens. The wine bottle stood tall between you, uncorked. But your appetite was buried beneath nausea.

Bucky poured the wine with practiced ease. His sleeves were rolled up, his forearms relaxed—but his eyes never left you.

He smiled. “The mayor will retire this year.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I’ll replace him,” he said calmly, as if it were already set in stone. “You’ll be the hospital director. Both of us… ruling this town. Like it’s meant to be.”

You stared at him, fork trembling in your hand. “I don’t want to.”

He set down his glass, jaw twitching. “This is a good thing. Why do you always reject me?”

“Because you’re not giving me choices, you’re giving me cages.”

“I gave you everything!” His voice cracked against the walls. “Respect, power, a future! And you act like I’m the villain!”

“You are the villain!” you shouted, shoving your chair back. “You stalked me, drugged me, locked me up—! You think because you cooked me dinner, I’m supposed to fall in love with you?”

His face contorted. “Don’t you—don’t you dare pretend like you didn’t ever want this. That you didn’t dream of getting out of your pathetic little life and being someone.”

Your heart pounded like a war drum. “Never.”

Then silence.

Your hand moved before your thoughts caught up.

CRASH. The bottle of wine shattered against the side of his head.

Bucky staggered back, red staining his temple—wine or blood, you didn’t know. He crumpled to the floor with a groan.

You didn’t wait to see if he’d get back up.

Your breath hitched as you turned and ran.

The house twisted around you like a labyrinth. You turned corners blindly until you burst into the lounge again—and saw Lydia, still slouched on the couch.

“Lydia!” You rushed to her, shaking her gently. “We have to go!”

She didn’t move.

You leaned in—her chest didn’t rise. Her skin was pale. Eyes open, staring at nothing.

Dead.

“Kyaaaa!!” The scream ripped from your throat. You stumbled back, hitting the table, collapsing to the floor as your body curled in on itself. Your stomach turned. Did he do this? Had she overdosed? Did she… give up?

Your eyes darted. A lighter sat next to her on the side table. You grabbed it. You didn’t know why. Maybe you wanted to burn the whole damn house down.

You ran again, frantic, feet flying over hardwood.

“Natasha!” you shouted, voice cracking. “Natasha!!”

“She’s dead too.”

You skidded to a stop, turned—

Thor. He stood at the end of the hallway like a nightmare, too broad, too quiet, too solid to move past.

Your stomach dropped. No. No, not him too.

You ran. He followed.

You ducked into the study, your lungs screaming. Bookshelves loomed around you, walls of knowledge offering no safety.

You threw yourself into the wardrobe, door creaking shut behind you. You held your breath.

Darkness swallowed you. You crouched in silence, heart hammering like it might betray you. And then—something cold pressed against your back.

You reached slowly. The shape, the curve, the steel.

Footsteps creaked into the room. Thor's voice rumbled, cold and close. “Give up. You can’t run away.”

You didn’t breathe. But you whispered, just loud enough:

“Behind you.”

A pause. His boots shifted. He turned.

BANG. A sharp crack exploded in the air. Thor jerked, eyes wide in shock, as the bullet tore into his chest.

He dropped like a tree.

You stepped out of the wardrobe, hands trembling but steady enough to hold the cold weight of the shotgun. The bullet belt was slung across your shoulder, heavy against your chest, metal clinking with each slow, deliberate step.

Thor lay on the floor, still breathing—barely. Blood soaked through his shirt, seeping into the carpet, dark and thick. His broad chest rose and fell with ragged effort. His eyes met yours—wide, glassy, full of disbelief. The great enforcer of the house, brought down by you.

He choked, mouth twitching with one last breath.

“Where is she?” Your voice was ice. No fear, just fire beneath your skin.

His throat clicked as he forced out his final words.

“In the basement.”

You didn’t thank him. Didn’t hesitate.

You marched through the twisted halls, shotgun clutched in your hands, past the portraits of smiling liars and rotting love. The house felt alive now, breathing smoke and secrets with every creaking board.

The basement door was hidden behind a curtain, locked with a deadbolt. You smashed it open with the butt of the gun. The staircase creaked beneath your feet as you descended into the dark. Each step down was a step into the pit of your nightmares.

The air was damp. Cold. The hum of a single flickering bulb buzzed above you like a dying insect.

And there she was.

Natasha. Strapped to a wooden chair.

Her head slumped to the side. Her skin was pale. Lips faintly blue.

You dropped the shotgun.

“No—no, no, no…” you whispered, stumbling forward. You fell to your knees in front of her and shook her shoulders. Her arms dangled limp.

“Nat, please—” Your voice cracked into a sob. “Please wake up. Please." You cried for her. A future ahead of her was taken away. She could have started a new chapter.

You pressed your fingers to her wrist. Nothing.

You let out a sound that wasn’t quite a scream, but wasn’t human either. The kind of grief that breaks something in you forever.

You stood, staggered back, fists clenching.

You hated him. This house. This bloodline. This lunatic fantasy he built on the bones of others.

Your eyes scanned the basement—rage sharpening your vision. You saw shelves of chemicals. Canisters. A broken-down workbench. Oil drums.

You grabbed one. The liquid inside sloshed like gasoline. You ripped the lid off and poured it over the floor, over the walls, over Natasha’s lifeless cage. You grabbed another. And another. Until the stench of fuel choked the air.

Your hands found the lighter in your pocket. You flicked it.

Click. Flick. Flame.

The fire danced to life—hungry, beautiful, merciless.

“You wanted an empire,” you spat through your teeth as the flames caught. “Here’s your goddamn legacy.”

The fire swallowed the basement like it had been waiting for this moment. Flames curled up the walls. Smoke billowed toward the ceiling, thick and black. The heat pulsed against your skin.

You grabbed the shotgun again and ran.

The house moaned as you sprinted through it, fire chasing your heels. Furniture cracked. Glass shattered from the heat. Flames kissed the staircase and licked the paintings off the walls.

You reached the front door, lungs burning. Just as your fingers touched the doorknob—

“Click.”

“BANG!”

The shot rang past your head, grazing the wood beside your face.

You turned—heart in your throat—and there he was.

Bucky. Blood ran down his temple, staining his white shirt crimson. His left eye was swollen, but he still held the shotgun like it was an extension of his body. His smile was twisted, more unhinged than ever.

“I see you’ve found my grandfather’s treasure.”

The fire crackled behind you. The heat rose between you both like hell itself opening wide.

The barrel of your shotgun tilted up just slightly. The smoke clawed at your throat, but you didn’t blink.

“It’s a good toy,” you said, cold and calm, voice carrying over the snapping fire.

Bucky’s face broke into a wide grin, teeth flashing like a madman’s mask. “Hahaha… this is the Y/N I remembered.” His laugh twisted into something unhinged, echoing through the burning house. Then, abruptly, his tone dropped, eerily calm again—like the switch of a broken man trying to hold on. “I won’t hurt you. Just put the gun down… and we’ll start over.” His voice softened. Hopeful. Like nothing around you was turning to ash.

Your grip tightened on the shotgun.

“We?” you whispered. “There’s no we.”

His smile faltered. And that was all it took.

Something broke behind his eyes.

“Well, since I asked nicely…” He lifted his shotgun with mechanical precision. “I’ll use the hard way.”

“Shit!” You threw yourself behind the overturned dining table as a blast ripped through the air.

The house shook as both of you started firing—BOOM! BOOM! The walls cracked, glass shattered above you, and the fire groaned like it wanted blood. You ducked behind a pillar, breath short, heat blistering.

“Who taught you how to shoot?” Bucky shouted from behind a smoky corner.

You peeked through the flames and yelled back, “Ransom’s grandfather.” Another shot. Another duck. “I spent summers with the Drysdales. Harlan taught me how to shoot wild animals.”

You could almost hear Bucky’s eye twitch.

“Tsk.”

The moment he emerged—you fired. The shot caught his shoulder.

“Arrrgh!” He screamed and crashed into the wall, gripping his bleeding arm. He looked down at the blood like it betrayed him.

His voice was hoarse now, but desperate. “Why do we have to hurt each other? Don’t you understand why I’m doing all this? It’s for you!”

You crouched low, creeping behind the smoke-thick curtains, hands slick with sweat and soot. You found a corner with partial cover and aimed again.

“Why?” you demanded, voice cutting through the chaos.

Bucky stood crookedly, one arm limp at his side. “Because I love you.” He said it like it justified everything. His voice cracked. His eyes burned more than the fire ever could.

You stared at him from across the scorched room.

Your lips parted.

Your voice dropped, quiet but lethal.

“We can’t be together. Not in this life… or another… not even in your dreams.”

The words hit him like a second bullet.

He didn’t scream.

He laughed.

But it was broken—manic—a dry, cracked hysteria. “HAHAHAHA!” Tears welled in his eyes as he leaned back against the wall, shaking with laughter that wasn’t joy. “After everything I’ve done for you…” His smile collapsed into grief. “It won’t matter. Nobody will believe you. I’ll burn it all down. I’ll frame you. I’ll make it look like you killed Lydia… Natasha… Thor. You know what I’m capable of.”

The flames hissed louder, licking the ceiling. A chandelier fell behind him, shattering into sparks.

Silence fell, thick and heavy.

Then your voice returned—low, confident, and chilling.

“Are you sure about that?”

Bucky’s breath hitched.

Then—a voice played. His voice.

From a recorder buried deep in the folds of your jacket. From somewhere you left playing just loud enough for him to hear.

“…so you’re the one who made Jake and Natasha lose their jobs, made Thor and Steve have that accident that ruined their careers?”

His voice. Calm. Boastful. Careless.

Then: “Yes. I’m the mastermind.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in horror. His mind couldn’t keep up with the trap snapping shut around him.

And then—he laughed again. Not maniacally.

This time, it was hollow. Like everything had finally cracked.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured. Almost with reverence. Even in his dying moment, he can't keep up with you.

You stood a little taller, your finger near the trigger. “You still have the chance to pay for your sins. To stop. To do one thing right.”

But the fire was already consuming the hallway. The walls behind him were collapsing.

And then he spoke.

His voice was quieter now. “It’s too late for me.” He wasn’t yelling anymore.

The world had gone quiet—but not in peace. It was the silence of something dying. The kind that came before a scream.

All around you, the fire surged higher, roaring like a beast finally let off its leash. Heat pressed in from every direction. The wallpaper curled. Beams cracked overhead, moaning as the structure gave up.

Then— CRACK—THUD!

A burning wooden beam split from the ceiling and crashed just inches from your body.

“Kyaa!” You stumbled back, shielding your face from the embers that flew like angry sparks. Your lungs choked on smoke, and your heart pounded so violently it rattled your ribs.

Then—his voice cut through the inferno like a ghost reaching out.

“Y/N.”

It wasn’t angry. Not like before. It was… still. Too calm.

“Could you look at me?” he said gently. “I won’t shoot you.”

You froze, back against the singed remains of a bookshelf. Slowly, you lifted your head.

Your eyes met his.

He stood on the staircase above you, framed by flames, his shadow long and flickering behind him. Ash clung to his hair. Blood soaked through his shirt. His shotgun hung loosely at his side.

But his eyes— They didn’t hold rage anymore. Only something final.

“You have to go out now,” he said, voice strained but firm.

Your throat tightened.

“You too.”

He shook his head once, slowly. That same soft smile lingered on his lips, cracked and bleeding.

“There’s no redemption for me.”

The floor beneath him creaked—sickening, ready to collapse. You stepped forward anyway, fists clenched.

“Y/N, listen.”

You stopped. Your eyes burned—not from the smoke.

And then he smiled. That broken, tender smile. Tear stains cut through the soot on his face, streaks of something too human for a monster.

“Remember me like this,” he said, voice trembling. “Just this last time. I love you. Even after you shot me… burned my house… my love for you never changed.”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

You stood in the glow of the inferno, unable to move, unable to breathe. Maybe it was the smoke. Maybe it was the heartbreak.

He sighed—a long, tired sound. Like he had hoped for something that never came.

And even now, you still wouldn’t say it.

His expression didn’t shift. Not this time. There was no anger, no madness left.

Just… surrender.

“Goodbye.”

He didn’t hesitate.

In one swift movement, Bucky brought the shotgun to his chin.

BANG!

The sound shattered the air like thunder.

“BUCKY!” you screamed, a raw, guttural sound that ripped from your throat.

His body crumpled backward—limp, weightless—before the flames swallowed the staircase whole. You ran toward him, but the fire surged up the bannister like it wanted to keep him. Keep his secrets. Keep you out.

“BUCKY!!”

But he was gone.

The smoke clawed at your lungs, the heat forced you back. You stumbled out of the collapsing house, the sky above black with ash, your scream echoing long after the fire silenced everything else.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

The house, a shell of its former self, was now nothing but a smoldering ruin. The fire had devoured everything—walls caved in, timbers fell in a fiery collapse, leaving nothing but ashes. The sirens from paramedics and police vehicles pierced the air, but even their arrival seemed distant, the weight of what had happened still pressing down on you.

They didn't even bother to check on you. The paramedics only moved in to assess the damage, eyes steely and distant. The local police moved past you with barely a glance, their focus solely on the charred remains of the house.

You stood there, isolated, the weight of the world in your chest.

Then, a voice broke through the haze. “Y/N!”

It was Jake’s voice—loud, relieved, and so familiar it almost made you crack.

You turned and saw him, rushing toward you with Ransom, Steve, and your dad right behind him. They were a shield, a reminder of something you thought you'd lost.

“Guys…” you whispered, a tremor running through your voice.

Jake’s face softened, but his brow furrowed in concern. He reached out for you, but before any of them could get too close, the local sheriff stepped forward, blocking them with a hardened stare.

“She’s the prime suspect,” the sheriff said flatly, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Ransom’s jaw tightened. His eyes, always calculating, now burned with anger.

“Prime suspect? She's a victim here! She was kidnapped! We've been looking for her!" Ransom spat, stepping forward aggressively. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

The sheriff didn’t flinch, his stance unwavering. But Ransom wasn’t done. He turned to Jake, who was still standing back, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“We’ve got a lawyer here. The Chief of Police is already on their way.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s supposed to mean something?”

Before anyone could respond, a black SUV pulled up, its tires screeching on the gravel. The door swung open, and out stepped a tall, authoritative figure in a dark suit—Chief of Police.

The sheriff’s expression shifted, uncertainty flickering for just a moment. His shoulders stiffened, a visible sign of tension as the Chief of Police approached.

The Chief of Police ignored the sheriff entirely and walked straight up to you, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment. He gave a small nod, a silent signal that you were no longer alone in this.

“Chief…” the sheriff stammered, unsure of what to say.

The Chief of Police didn’t answer at first. Instead, he turned his gaze to Ransom, who had a smug look on his face.

“That’s enough, right?” Ransom asked, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

The Chief of Police raised a hand, signaling for quiet, then finally spoke.

The local sheriff and his deputies stood frozen, their mouths agape as they watched the Chief of Police back you up. This was clearly a scene they weren’t prepared for.

You sighed, the weight of everything slowly lifting from your shoulders. You reached into your jacket bag and pulled out the evidence—the recording.

You handed it to the Chief of Police, watching as his eyes scanned over it. Bucky’s voice crackled through the speakers, his confession echoing in the silence around you.

“This is it,” you said quietly. “He was behind it all.”

Ransom leaned in, crossing his arms, a satisfied smirk still on his face. “You know what to do next.”

The Chief of Police paused for a moment, then looked at the sheriff. “That’s enough. She’s free. You can’t touch her.”

The sheriff’s face twisted in confusion and anger, but he couldn’t do anything. Not now.

The Chief of Police turned to you, offering a rare, genuine smile. “You’re safe now.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you let out a long breath, finally feeling the release you so desperately needed. This fight—it was over.

But there was one last thing you needed to say.

You caught Ransom’s eye, and without a word, you slipped him a small nod. A code only the two of you would understand.

'The Contract Has Terminated means I’m going to die. Help.'

The remainder of those dark days, the dangerous people you’d encountered, flashed briefly through your mind. Working in investment had always meant navigating treacherous waters.

You were free. And, for once, you didn’t have to run anymore.

Finally, this nightmare of yours is over.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

Epilogue

1 Year Later

You returned to work with Ransom again. After everything he’d done to you, you felt like you owed him a lot. Yet, over time, you noticed a change in his behavior towards you. He didn’t want you to get hurt anymore. His actions were more protective now, almost as though he cared in ways he hadn’t before. And he's less of an asshole than before. Perhaps there could be romance between you two? There's a chance.

As for Tom, your dad, he had recovered from his kidney surgery. He decided to stay in the city and live with you, enjoying his retirement. He found a new community at a local golf club, which you had encouraged him to join. There, he met many new friends—surprisingly, more than you had. Living in the city seemed to suit him well.

Steve, on the other hand, had become a famous artist, just like he’d always dreamed. He traveled the world, and he made sure to pay what he owed you. He never forgot how you opened the door to him when he needed it most. Sometimes, Mr. Rogers would even travel with him, and they would share stories about their adventures.

As for Jake, with your evidence and the help of lawyers, he was able to clear his name. He got his old job back, while his mother continued her travels around the world on a cruise.

Everyone had moved on, yet you couldn’t shake the memories of what had happened in that town. The scars it left on you were deep. You still went to therapy to work through the trauma, but even now, there were nights when the haunting images resurfaced. The weight of those moments stayed with you, lingering in the corners of your mind, reminding you that some things, no matter how hard you tried, would never truly leave.

Until one day, Steve visited you and handed you a letter. It was from Bucky. You didn’t want to open it. You placed it on the table, where it remained untouched for a month. Eventually, you found the courage to open it. Taking a deep breath, you read the letter:

“I can’t think of a better way to defend what I’ve done for you. It was bad. I acted like a judge to punish people.

Still, you don’t deserve it. I robbed your childhood, your teenage years.

Every day, I thought to myself: What if I never meant to you? What if we were friends? What if you never hated me? What if we loved each other? What if you don’t hate me after I’m gone?

I write this letter to you in case I’m gone. My love for you never changed.

Hate me all you want, but I knew you would never be able to forget me. Just like the town where we grew up, the one we hated the most.”

You regretted opening the letter. You couldn’t stand reading his words anymore. Grabbing a lighter, you burned it, watching the paper curl and blacken in the flames.

How you wished you could make him see how wrong he was.

After that day, everything in the town began to change. The mayor’s corruption was exposed, the illegal casino shut down, and the bodies that Thor had buried in the forest were discovered. Bucky’s schemes, the ones that led to his own mother’s death, Natasha’s murder, and the malpractice by Dr. Stark, were all unveiled. Both he and the mayor would rot in jail for the rest of their lives.

As for Natasha, you built a grave for her. You couldn’t hold on to the past anymore because, in the end, Natasha was also a victim—just like you.

Ransom was furious and wanted to rid the town of its rotten core. He transformed the once-dying town into an exclusive area, completely changing its landscape. The Barnes residence, a symbol of Bucky’s twisted life, was turned into a flower park. No business, no reminders—just peace.

The town was unrecognizable, and the letter Bucky sent was nothing but a lie. It felt wrong in every possible way.

You realize that you've kept living and breathing since that day, and everything is different. You don't let that day make you afraid. You’re still able to go outside, meet people, and work. And that damn town has changed too.

You raised your middle finger to the ground and muttered, “Fuck you, Bucky. Rot in hell.”

-The End.-

Woohoo... finally, it's done!!!

I never thought I could complete this story. I realize that writing mystery stories is more difficult than the other stories I’ve written.

Thank you to everyone who has been following this story from the beginning.

Tag list : 🩷💙🩷

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@esposadomd

@sapphirebarnes

@cjand10

@bellabarnes1378

@thetravelingtyper

@buckitostan

@mostlymarvelgirl

@5upersoldiers1xt

@jjanereid

@cakesandtom

@queen2234

@learisa

@springsheep

@mrsstuckyboo

@read-just-cant

@loki-laufeyson68

@anixerz

@ghalouha

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@emerald-writes

@mcira

@barnesxstan

@bxtchboy69

@lokislady82

@mrsnikstan

@calwitch

@thedonswife13

@calwitch

@otterlycanadian

@bonkybarnes106

@tinkrogers

@chimchoom

@winchestert101

@raajali3

My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing is FREE on Kindle for a few days. Check it out!

Link for Arrogant Ex-Husband

Link for Dad I Can't Let You Go

[jimblejamblewritings]

Pet Soldier | 3

Summary: Bucky's past catches up to him, unlocking painful memories of his time as the winter soldier. The only thing that could make it worse was having to be on a team with a captured HYDRA soldier he wants to see dead. But her healing power is simply too invaluable to let go.

THIS IS A DARK FIC!

Warnings for the Series: 18+ only. Heavy Angst (eventual hurt comfort). Violence. Mentions and depictions of Non-Con and Dub-Con. Psychological Trauma. Not Canon Compliant. Manipulation. Hydra.

Important Warnings for this Part: trauma, torture, manipulation

Pairing: eventual Stucky x reader, Stucky x hydra!reader, Bucky x reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist coming soon

“I believe it would be best if L/N was moved from Avengers Tower.” 

Those were the first words out of Steve’s mouth. He was trying and failing to get out more before the protests started. Not only had he scheduled an emergency meeting before anyone got a chance to eat but now he wanted to just let you roam free unsupervised? Outside of the tower. 

“Enough! As the captain, I am choosing to make an executive decision.” 

“This is bullshit and you know it, Steve. She can’t be trusted.” 

Bucky called for Dr. Myers. His knee bounced up and down the entire time as he waited for the therapist to arrive on their floor, ignoring the arguments coming from the rest of the Avengers. Every so often, his eyes flitted over to you. Nothing in your body language or facial expressions was readable. Bucky finally sighed in relief once his therapist arrived.  

“Let’s just let the doc decide if this move is best for everyone mentally,” Bucky spoke slowly. “FRIDAY, starting from two months ago, anywhere from one in the morning to around three, please find any time when I entered L/N’s room.” 

That shut the team up. No one could figure out why he would have been in your room but they knew it probably wasn’t good. However, they all expected the problem to be you. Bucky swallowed thickly as the video played. You weren’t the monster. He was. That was the only real thought going through his head. It didn’t matter if it was the winter soldier, not at that moment. 

Tony clamped a hand over his mouth, wide-eyed and head shaking as the video showed Bucky choking you to a point of concernment. The winter soldier’s nightmares were nothing new to the team. But there was always a sort of blank stare in his eyes. An obvious sign that Bucky wasn’t present with anymore.

The soldier on the video in front of them was far more expressive than any nightmare before. There was a concentrated darkness to his gaze and sadistic enjoyment in his smile. Like he wanted you to feel this pain. And that scared everyone. 

“Barnes, what did you do?” Natasha struggled to even look at him. “What did you do to her?” 

“Nothing HYDRA hasn’t programmed him to do,” you answered for him, startling everyone that you seemed to be defending him. “The Asset’s rampages have never been easy. HYDRA found an outlet to subdue and satisfy those rampages with minimal violence and eventually no casualties.” 

“They let him rape you?” Sam asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the now still image on the screen. 

“Why do you sound so surprised? I thought you all go on and on about how HYDRA are the bad guys.” 

“But to allow him to do that to his own handler?” Natasha folded her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t seem within their nature and a good way for them to lose control of their asset.”

You didn’t have a good response so you chose to stay silent, hoping your face didn’t accidentally crack from the relatively bored expression you had been sporting since entering the room. It wasn’t exactly a shocker to you that the Avengers would be horrified by HYDRA practices. But you were a bit surprised to see that their expressions were showing actual concern for you. Someone they believed was a handler and higher-up in that horrid organization. 

Wanda’s gasp drew everyone’s attention. Her eyes never left you, making you squirm in your seat. If anyone was going to recognize the change in your microexpressions, you had expected it to be Natasha or Bucky. You went stiff at the sudden remembrance that the woman still staring at you could read minds. 

“What is it?” Steve asked. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered. 

He was almost taken aback by the lack of authority in your voice. It was a tone they weren’t used to hearing from you. A tone of near defeat. Steve was conflicted. You had just been through possibly the worst thing he has ever personally witnessed and he didn’t want to push it. But if it helped your or Bucky then he kind of really needed to know. He looked at Wanda, knowing she was reading his mind. She gave him the most miniscule nod before speaking in a very sweet tone. 

“Whatever you’re afraid of everyone knowing, we can help. You have no need to be scared.” 

You scoffed. “I’m not afraid of him or any of you. I do not want to be held responsible for breaking Sergeant Barnes.” 

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” Tony said, finally finding his voice. “We’ve seen enough HYDRA footage to reach that decision of our own. But if it makes you feel better then Manchurian Candidate never has to know what you tell us. You can talk to just Wanda or Nick or whoever. The only person you can’t avoid knowing is the leader of this team who is, unfortunately, Capsicle. But he won’t tell Barnes, will he?” 

Steve nodded with the utmost seriousness. “I promise.” 

It was like your entire body shut down. When did they see any footage from the facility? How could they be treating you the way they had if they had seen anything? You had made your peace with your past and how it would blend into this new present but that was when you were operating under a different level of assumptions. Carefully, Nick and Maria inched their fingers towards their holsters as they watched your face scrunch up in anger. Frantically, you scrambled for the dog tags hidden under your clothes. 

“So, has it been you this entire time then? Even those times you terrorized me at night?” you spat at Bucky with more vitriol and emotion than the entire team had seen before. “I spent hours rationalizing it was him and not you. Those nightmares might have been one thing but I thought even your real mind was too damaged by HYDRA for you to remember the truth. Yet, you’re saying it’s you? You’ve seen the records and you chose to treat me like this? Not the Asset. Not Soldat. Not even Sergeant Barnes. You, James Buchanan Barnes? Fuck you, Bucky.” 

You threw the dog tags at his face before storming back to the resident area of the tower, choosing the stairs so no one could try to intercept you on the elevator. For once, you didn’t give a shit how many times FRIDAY alerted Tony that you were on the stairs of some levels you weren’t authorized to be on yet. You didn’t stop walking until you reached the residential area again, ending up on the balcony to try and calm yourself with the fresh air. 

The Avengers sat in the meeting room confused. No one had ever seen that much emotion from you before. But they couldn’t figure out what had upset you, especially if you weren’t upset about the winter soldier’s nightmares. Almost afraid, Bucky grabbed the jewelry you threw at him. It slipped from his fingers instantly and landed on the table with a sharp clanking that pierced his ears. 

“What is it?” Sam reached for the metal his friend now refused to touch. Two wedding rings and a small engagement ring flanked either side of the two dog tags. Sam flipped the flat pieces of metal over. “James B. Barnes. Y/N M/I L/N… What the actual fuck is going on?” 

“Bring me Zemo,” Bucky said, darkly. 

Despite being in handcuffs, the man’s face held a smirk that didn’t break even when Sharon harshly forced him into the empty chair. A growl nearly ripped through Bucky’s throat when Zemo started clapping. 

“I take it you finally figured it out, Sergeant Barnes. I admit, you took much longer than I thought. I suppose they fried your brain even more than I believed.” 

“Why?” 

“I told you already. I don’t care for super soldiers, righteous or otherwise. I might hate supposed superheroes even more. Y/N happened to have helped keep one alive all these years when she should have just let you die. Don’t get me wrong, she might be the only person with powers I like, dare I say maybe care for. But small sacrifices must be made.” 

“You knew we’d eventually figure it out,” Steve muttered. 

“I had hoped for the winter soldier’s mind to be more fractured beforehand… There’s still time.” 

Natasha was seconds away from wanting to kill Zemo right where he sat. They had isolated you for months over what was looking more like a lie by the second. She had slapped you clear across the face on her first day of meeting you. 

“What did you do with the real footage?” 

“Flitted through whatever pieces I found could fit a narrative, hid the parts that didn’t fit, only focused on one angle of the cctv. It wasn’t that difficult to get you all to fa—” 

“Where’s the real footage?” 

“Well, I didn’t exactly bring it all with me when I was arrested.” 

“Do you have the real footage of what you showed us?” 

Nick slammed Zemo’s head into the table when he refused to answer. Trying to ignore the blood running from his nose, Zemo eventually relented. The director called in for another SHIELD agent while Tony intently watched Zemo to make sure he wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on them again as he recovered the footage. 

“Get a team back to the Siberian facility. Scour it for footage. It’s solely a recovery job. Get in and out as quickly as possible.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Fury turned back to the team. “Are we ready?” 

Tony watched the screen flicker for a moment before nodding. “FRIDAY has run all the footage we currently have through her system. Just press play on the remote.”      

Despite the fact that they were ready, they hesitated to actually start. What if more of the footage resembled Bucky’s winter soldier nightmares? That wasn’t something they were eager to relive again, let alone so soon. With a roll of his eyes, Zemo pressed the play button. The team stared at a scene that seemed so familiar already, hesitant at what new information they might be gathering. 

“Sergeant Barnes,” you said as you walked past Bucky’s shower stall. 

Instead of staying on you, a second cctv video started to play alongside what they had seen from the original video. 

Bucky wasn’t stoic at all. His body didn’t move but a smile graced his face. 

“Are you just going to stand there the entire time and watch me like a creep?” 

“If I want to admire you, soldier, I can.” Your voice was light and jovial. 

“Well, doctor, if you’re going to keep staring at me, can you at least check for injuries?” 

“Does something hurt?” There was a hint of serious inquiry in your tone. 

Bucky turned ever so slightly, smirk still plastered on his face. “My last mission was really hard. I think I still might be affected by how hard it was.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy line but began shrugging off your lab coat anyway. “Well, a doctor’s touch should heal you right up.” 

“I was hoping you might say that, doc.” 

In the meeting room, everyone was slowly turning a shade of red or feeling warmth heat up their faces. Bucky tried to look everywhere else but the screen. However, he kept locking eyes with various teammates and resolved himself to just stare at his tea instead. Tony stopped fixing his cup of shitty breakroom coffee, whipping around to face the screen. 

“Hold on, were you two actually fucking roleplaying? That’s what that was?” 

“It would appear so.” Bucky felt his ears go hot when a familiar part of the audio returned. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Sarge. Maybe they should send you on more of these hard missions so I can come see you. I didn’t know you were so well endowed.” 

This time, Bucky wanted to leave the room for an entirely different set of reasons. He never thought there would be a day where his bedroom fantasies were broadcasted past Wanda accidentally reading his mind at inopportune moments. He almost wished it had been one of those times. At least he and Steve weren’t into this embarrassing roleplay that everyone was witnessing right now. 

“I’m sorry to have met your acquaintance only recently, doc,” Bucky said through a moan. “Rest assured, I’ll keep coming to your office after all my hard missions now that we’ve met.”

“I’d like that… I missed you, James.” 

“Missed you too, sweetheart. But if you keep touching me like this, I’m not gonna last long enough to return the favor.” 

“I thought you’d be tired. You just got back.” 

Bucky finally turned around, stopping centimeters from your lips. “I’m never tired when it comes to you, only bright spot in this shitty little nazi den.” 

You gasped. “Buck! What if someone hears you? They’ll wipe you again.” 

“Wipe me for what… it happened again, didn’t it?” 

You nodded, thumbs caressing his face. He shuddered underneath you before sighing. 

“I guess it won’t be long before they send me to the machine. I’m sorry if I forget you for a few days like last time.” 

“As long as you come back to me safe. Relatively safe,” you amended when he gave you a look. 

Bucky smiled. “Well, if I don’t have too long before another trip to the frying pan… Think it’s time to start seeing if this hunk of metal can bring you some pleasure. You’d like that?” 

Tony cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat back down with a now prepared cup of coffee. “Well, I’m glad you two found some levity. No matter how much I wish to scrub my memory of this foreplay.” 

“Thanks, Tony,” Bucky muttered, cringing as he heard himself asking you to finish all over his fingers. “FRIDAY, we can go ahead and skip the rest of this one. I don’t think we’ll find anything else of importance.” 

“Certainly, Sergeant Barnes. However, there is probably one more bit that might be of some significance.” 

Reluctantly, Bucky told the system to keep playing the video if it really was super important but to skip as much of the intimacy as she could. 

Bucky smiled as you both got redressed, watching you intently. You pulled your necklace you had taken off to shower with him from your lab coat pocket. Tilting it ever so slightly, you let the rings slip off the necklace along with one of the three dog tags. Bucky plucked one of the plain rings from your hand with grace, smiling as he put it on his right hand. 

“Thanks for keeping it safe for me, doll.”

“I always will.”

Bucky pulled you to his chest, giving you another kiss before you both left the showers. The two of you walked towards the garages hand in hand. With a suaveness that hadn’t been seen since he was in the 40s, Bucky held open the car door for you. 

“Hate that I had to take a shower outside my own home,” Bucky said as he reversed out of his parking spot. “Sorry you had to drive down here, sweetheart.” 

You shrugged. “I don’t mind. As long as it stops you from tracking blood through the house.” 

“I would have cleaned it up, promise.” 

The drive was only a few minutes but you and Bucky made those minutes stretch, including the time it took the elevator to reach the floor with your apartment on it. Giggles couldn’t stop pouring from your mouth when you were lifted off of your feet and carried bridal style out of the elevator. Bucky wouldn’t listen to your laughter filled requests to put you down. He opened the door with one hand, shutting it with his foot once you were both safe inside.

“What would you like to do tonight?” you asked him, accepting that he wasn’t going to set you down until he was ready. 

“Well, I would love to ravish my beautiful wife until the sun comes up but I don’t think she’d let me.” 

“You got that right, Sergeant. But maybe I’ll consider a few hours. After dinner, of course.” 

“Then I’ll go heat up some of that chicken noodle soup we made a few days ago. And can I request that you, Mrs. Barnes, go put on your favorite lingerie and one of my button downs? I’ve been dreaming about that for a few days now.” 

“I think I can make that happen, Mr. Barnes. I might even throw on one of your favorites.” 

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

Bucky wanted the ground to swallow him whole. No one had anything to say. Wanda kept rewinding the last few minutes, hearing those few sentences repeated over and over again. Bucky squeezed the necklace that had been resting in his hand since they brought Zemo up to the meeting room. 

“FRIDAY, please just play the next one,” he whispered. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself from leaving to go find you. 

“Are you sure?” Zemo asked, making Bucky look over at him. “Sergeant Barnes, you were very different as the winter soldier. Even with Y/N.” 

“Just play the damn thing.” 

You were kneeling outside on the balcony in nothing but a thin lingerie dress. The rain beat down on your shivering skin. It was like you were afraid to look up from where you hugged your own body to keep warm. The sound of heavy footsteps reached your ears. 

“Can I please come back inside? Please, Buc—Soldier?” 

He didn’t answer you, not that he could with the mask still on the lower half of his face. But the man made no moves to remove it.             

Bucky felt his heart shatter, bile rising in his throat, as you kept trying to apologize for whatever you did wrong while the winter soldier simply ignored you. Steve took large, slow nods. 

“That’s why she didn’t want to get off the quinjet.” 

“It’s your favorite way to punish her,” Zemo said as he sat back with a satisfied smile. “I noticed that throughout the tapes. The soldier always went back to this one. The rain or snowfall, minimal to no clothing, out there until you let her back in. Sometimes you weren’t even watching her, just left her out there.” 

“Stop,” Bucky murmured weakly, eyes never leaving the screen. 

“You always chose to have her just on the brink of collapse. I suppose that makes the threat more real. You know, if you were feeling extra cruel, you would put her straight in the shower after being out there. Hot water. Never hot enough to burn but it certainly must have felt like it, especially after the snow.” 

“Just stop!”

Your self-soothing was rather loud. Roughly, you kept wiping at your eyes to try and stop the tears while telling yourself to breathe and calm down. 

“It’s not Bucky,” you whispered. “It’s not Bucky. You’re fine… you’re fine, Y/N. It’s not Bucky so he can’t be talked to like him.” 

With stiff joints, you moved yourself to sit against the balcony guardrails. 

“It’s getting rusty.”

The soldier looked down at his metal arm before returning his gaze to you. 

“If I have to replace it, you will get another punishment…” You sighed as Bucky simply ran a finger over all the metal plates, another plea falling on deaf ears. “They can’t have you performing in the field in a compromised manner. They’ve said this to you multiple times now. Let’s go inside and I’ll work on you instead of Karpov.”  

Bucky sniffled at the added context. He watched the soldier nod and finally hold open the door for you. The rest of the video didn’t matter to the brunette. He didn’t need to see it to figure out how the context changed. You weren’t requesting time in cryo because you were sick of the soldier.

You were scared and needed your own recovery time. Because of something he did to you. It was all he could think about. Bucky almost didn’t register the videos were over until he heard Nick tell Maria to make a phone call to Ross and Steve question something. 

“But if she stays here… what if Buck’s nightmares make him hurt her again?” Steve argued. 

“Now that we have gotten some glimpses of the truth, I believe the soldier’s anger towards what he perceived was Miss L/N will be mitigated or gone entirely. FRIDAY monitoring Mr. Barnes’ whereabouts could give peace of mind. But I believe moving her could do more harm,” Dr. Myers said.  

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

The doctor started packing up the new file he created for you. “Be gentle with Y/N. That’s about the best we can do until further examination. And please do not change the decor of the resident area too much, really the entire tower should stay relatively the same. Her environment should be stable unless she is the one to actively make changes. She needs a routine. Like her days at HYDRA, only healthier. And I’m recommending that she no longer accompanies you all on missions unless absolutely necessary. Even then, she should stay in the quinjet.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Oh, comfort. She should be given the option of comfort. Don’t bring it into her room. Let her do that herself but it should be there.”  

Everyone nodded at his suggestion. They could do that. Tony wasn’t even planning on any major redecorations for a while. He was already texting Pepper to pick you up a long list of what Dr. Myers suggested as well as going into FRIDAY’s system to remove all the restrictions that had been placed on your living situations.  

“Buck, where are you at?” Wanda asked gently after Dr. Myers exited.

“I hurt the one good person I had in there. I had a wife. I had a wife and I hurt her.” The crack in his voice was unmistakable. 

“Bucky…” 

He pulled away from Sam’s touch. No one was sure of what to say. Sometimes it was best to let Bucky rationalize and process all by himself. Especially when it came to HYDRA. But this was different and the team wasn’t sure if leaving him to simmer in his own thoughts was a good idea. Even after Maria, Sharon, Nick, and Zemo had left, the team stayed with Bucky. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there but it felt like it was at least an hour before he was able to rise from the meeting chair. He needed to find you and talk. 

The rain had started about fifteen minutes after you had initially stepped onto the balcony. Practically running, you tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. Fear ran up your spine at the sudden remembering you technically didn’t have permission to be here yet and your thumbprint wasn’t yet accepted by the lock. Your breathing got shallower as you tried to yank the door off of its hinges. You started calling out to every person on the team even though no one was in your field of vision. It was the only thing you could do at the moment to not completely shut down. 

Bucky was in his head as they returned to the resident area. He wanted to talk to you. Had to. Although, what he was going to say, he was absolutely unsure of. His ears perked up at the sound of crying.   

The brunette ran when he caught sight of you pounding against the glass of the building, pleasing to be let back inside. The terrace door nearly flew off with the force he used to open it. You shook hard as he held you close, bringing you to the safety of inside. Your fist pounded at your chest in a poor attempt to regulate your breathing again but it wasn’t working. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him, teeth chattering the entire time. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, Bucky. Please don’t make me go back out there. Please. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He rocked you both back and forth. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You did nothing wrong. Come on, let’s get you out of these soaked clothes.”   

The bloodcurdling scream you let out the moment he tried to help you up made Bucky accidentally drop you. 

“No! Please don’t take me back out there. Soldier, please!” 

Bucky stepped back with a vengeance, hands up to try and make himself seem like less of a threat. He moved out of the way when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Sam crouched down to your level, holding you by both of the shoulders and doing very exaggerated breaths. 

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” 

You nodded, teeth still chattering. 

“These clothes can’t be comfortable any more. I can fix that if you want.” 

Sam thanked Steve as he took the large towel from the man. He wrapped it around you, rubbing your arms to warm you up a bit. You took his hand after some careful consideration, letting him help you get to your feet. Your breathing was still unstable. Everyone watched you take in large gulps of air as if you were drowning. 

“Nat and Wanda are going to help you get into something dry and warm. Is that okay?” 

Your eyes flitted over to Bucky. Without missing a beat, Sam stepped in front of him. 

“Hey, hey, look at me. He’s not going to do anything, alright? No one is taking you back to the terrace.” 

You wouldn’t move, still staring at Bucky. The super soldier sighed, patting Sam on the shoulder so the other man could move aside. The rest of the team held their breath as he approached you. Even if he didn’t like to speak it, he never forgot a single word of Russian he learned. 

“Let’s go. The girls will put you in something warm, dry. Safe.” 

He didn’t wait to see if you were following, knowing that wasn’t going to help. Bucky’s ears were tuned into you though. He finally breathed when he heard the sounds of your footsteps moving towards him. Nat and Wanda were quick to follow.

✭

part 4

TAGLIST:

@lil-riddle-kiddle @valckenaux @fries11 @blackterrae @violetlilites @dakotali @23victoria @dottirose

[babyjakes]

clear blue water.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | watersports

pairing | soft!dark!daddies!steve rogers and ari levinson x little!reader

warnings | dark ddlg dynamic (soft!dark!daddies of captive!little!reader.) dub/non-con. shower scene. crying kink. moment of nipple play. thigh riding. clit focus <33 + fingering. forced orgasm. watersports (unexpected wetting.) mocking/humiliation. praise and encouragement. aftercare (cleaning off.)

word count | 1,205

an | they have one of those big fancy walk-in showers with the bench in the back, the ones made of marble?? i didn't know how to describe it in-fic so i'm just dropping that info here lol. i don't usually write shower stuff so i hope this turned out okay :')

edit | this is written in the same au as you all over me, with captive!reader and her soft!dark!daddies.

There was no use in squirming or struggling. Any resistance you showed would only make things harder for yourself. And yet as hard as you tried, you couldn't keep your trembling body still. Perched up on Steve's broad thigh, your shoulder blades pressed back against his bare front side, you felt like a cornered animal as Ari crouched down in front of you on the sleek shower floor. A look of mock concern drew across the brunette's face as he reached out to brush dripping strands of hair out of your face.

Steve's arm was steady around your waist holding you in place, but there was little harshness to his grasp. Neither of the men were particularly rough or violent with you, but there were times when you honestly found yourself wishing they would be. There was just something about the way they treated you, with such love and patience- it felt so wrong, given the circumstances. It was maddening.

"P-please, don't make me..." Your begging seemed pathetic even to you as Ari shook his head regretfully, his large hand trailing down to begin toying with one of your tits. His fingertips teased lightly over your already-stiffened nipple, tweaking and tugging at the poor knot of flesh as he shared a steady look with Steve.

"C'mon doll, you're alright. Be a big girl and let your daddies help you," the man holding you encouraged softly. He brought up a hand of his own to begin occupying your other breast as his counterpart shifted his focus lower.

"Gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," Ari promised as he leaned his face down a little, settling his unwanted gaze on your puffy pussy lips as they sat helplessly atop Steve's muscular thigh. Letting out a thoughtful hum, the crouching man mused, "Now, let's see here..."

Steve shifted you up slightly along the length of his leg, placing a hand on either side of your waist to keep you balanced and upright. "Good, that's better," Ari murmured appreciatively as he brought his own prying hands down to gently spread your pussy lips over the surface you were perched on. A feeble whine rose in your throat as your dripping hole and clit came in contact with Steve's damp skin. "There," Ari smiled approvingly, "right up against Daddy's leg. Are you gonna be a good girl and ride Stevie's thigh, baby? Or are we gonna have to help you?"

Big, warm tears of humiliation sprang from your eyes as you tried to glare at the brown-haired man before you. To your dismay, Ari simply seemed to find your little act of defiance endearing. "Poor little girl, what a pretty pout," he crooned as he leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead.

"That's okay, sweetheart," Steve's voice was low and rumbly from behind you, "little babies need their daddies' help. That's what we're here for." Tightening his grip on your waist, he drew a faltering cry from your trembling lips as he began bouncing his leg beneath you, grinding your hips down with his hands at a steady, punishing rhythm.

Ari's expression was full of sympathy as he reached in again to aid in your torment. With just the tips of his fingers, he spread your labia back further, watching as your poor little bundle of nerves was dragged repeatedly over the slippery surface below. "I know, baby. I know," he frowned gently. "Bet your poor little button burns, doesn't it?"

"Poor thing," Steve played right along with his partner's cruel game of faux pity. "How long d'you think she'll last, Ari? Look at her, she's getting worked up already," he pointed out as your shaking legs kicked helplessly beneath you.

"That's our perfect girl," Ari hummed as he and Steve kept up their steady movements. "Shouldn't take long," he stated knowingly, "poor baby's so sensitive, doesn't take much to make her come."

Heat was rising up through your neck and face as your torture dragged on. As always, you were doing everything you could to fight off the inevitable, but very quickly you were finding it all to just be too much. The way they spoke about you as if you weren't even there, the mortifying detail they were discussing your circumstances in. The way forcing you to orgasm seemed to be their favorite pastime, the way they knew the quickest and most efficient ways to bring you right to the edge of those unwanted climaxes they loved so much...

"Getting so wet, doll. You getting close?" Steve murmured against the back of your neck as your broken whimpers and sobs grew louder and more desperate.

Ari could see that familiar look growing on your face, prompting him to bring the pads of his fingers down to rub quickly and harshly against your throbbing button. "C'mon, baby. Give it to us," he commanded, his voice now stronger with an heir of authority.

"Don't fight it, little one," Steve crooned, his voice vibrating against your ear as the horrible feelings swelled up inside of you. As you were sent reeling towards your high, the man behind you brought a firm arm around your lurching body to steady you. Just as your orgasm began tearing through you, the pressure applied to your lower belly proved too much to bear; in a humiliating moment of complete and total helplessness, a surge of warmth shot out from your spasming cunt as you gushed and came simultaneously.

Feeling the forceful spray hit his thigh, Steve couldn't help but beam at the sight of your forfeited control. Ari caught on to what was happening only fractions of a moment later, immediately sharing in his friend's delight. "There, let it all out, sweetheart," he chuckled softly as the unbearable waves of pleasure and relief continued.

"Poor baby, just couldn't hold it, huh?" Steve joined in as your overwhelming climax finally began to wind down. As soon as you left its grips, your poor body slumped uselessly against your captors' holds. Ari removed his fingers from your twitching button as Steve eased you back to lean against his broad chest, gently planting a kiss to your temple as you sat there helplessly, too weak to do anything but struggle for air through your tears.

"Shhh," Ari brought his hands to rub soothingly over the tops of your thighs. As the humiliation of the situation settled in, your cries only worsened, earning concerned yet understanding looks from both of the men as they sat there with you in the humid air. Steve rubbed your tummy gently as Ari stepped away momentarily, retrieving a rag and the bottle of body soap from the front of the shower before returning. You were too weak and exhausted to fight as the man began washing you off, continuing to offer you soft words of praise and reassurance along with Steve.

"You're okay, sweetheart. Just let your daddies take care of you," the blonde told you softly as the warm, soothing cloth was dragged over your ruined body.

"Our little baby. So good for her daddies," Ari kissed your nose, his loving acts and words only feeling like salt in the gaping wound they had once again torn open in you.

[thegoodwitchsworld]

The Bet

Pairings:- Dark Steve Rogers x reader, Dark Bucky Barnes x reader, Dark Brock Rumlow x reader

Warnings: 18+, dub!con, non!con, humiliation, degrading, unprotected sex, rough sex

Brock clenches his teeth, his hands digging further into your skin where he's holding you at the waist.

"You better give up and cut your losses now, Rumlow", Steve grins from across the table.

"Yeah, you don't have anything to even bet now, do you?" Bucky adds in, fanning his own cards and winking at you.

You're sitting in Brock's lap, a small, tight dress hugging your body. It's not your style at all, but he's your boyfriend, and you wear what he likes. He has lost all his money and territories in playing cards with his "friends" today, and he has nothing more to bet now.

He's probably gonna take that out on you tonight.

Even now, his hands grip you painfully hard, making you wince, but if you even let out a whimper it'll be real bad for you, so you bite your tongue and bear the pain quietly.

"Let's have one last round."

You hear him say suddenly, his voice making you flinch out of your thoughts.

Steve shakes his head slowly, grinning harder.

"Yeah? And what you gonna bet, yourself?"

"Her."

He replies.

Your head whips around to look at him, your eyes wide.

No, that's not possible, right? He wouldn't bet YOU, his GIRLFRIEND, right?

Right?

Brock looks at you, licking his lips as he runs his fingers along the inside of your thigh.

"Yeah, I bet her. Winner gets to fuck her."

Tears spring in your eyes.

"Nah, you gotta make the stakes higher, man. Winner gets to KEEP her, forever." Bucky replies, looking at you as if he's gonna eat you up.

Brock is silent for a moment. You try to plead with him through your eyes not to do this. Brock is horrible, but these men aren't much better either. At least with Brock you know what your battles are. Who knows what these men will do? Besides, betting a human being is illegal.

Not that any of them care.

"Done. Deal the cards."

You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration. Brock pulls you in closer and nips at your exposed collarbone.

Bucky starts dealing the cards again, shuffling the deck expertly. Steve is looking at you, a dark expression in his eyes.

They play, and it is a few minutes before Brock suddenly stands up, you stumbling out of his lap and nearly landing on the floor before you catch yourself.

"FUCK!" He yells, angrily throwing down his cards on the table. He runs a hand over his face, his expression thunderous.

"Accept your defeat graciously, Rumlow," Steve says softly, his eyes still on you. "And you sweetheart, come here". He curls his finger towards you.

You look back at him, your lips trembling and your eyes wide.

"FINE! Have the bitch, I don't CARE! I'll get another one!" Brock screams and storms out of the room, no doubt going back to his business of threatening people and shooting them for money.

You're left standing at the edge of the table.

"Don't worry doll, we're not gonna hurt you", Bucky grins salaciously, getting up to grab your arm and pull you in between where he and Steve are sitting.

"W-what are you gonna do to me?", you whisper.

Steve grabs your waist and turns you towards him, making you stand between his legs.

"Nothing much, just gonna kiss you.... and fuck you.... like I've wanted to for years," He replies.

Bucky adjusts his pants over his hardening length. "Look at the doe-eyed Bambi, Steve," he laughs. "No wonder Rumlow showed her off so much ".

Steve doesn't reply, swiping his thumb on your trembling lower lip instead. He suddenly pulls you down into his lap.

"Pl-please... be gentle...", you beg softly. You know your fate.

"Mm. Can't promise that, angel," Steve replies as his lips find your neck, inhaling your perfume. He bites down suddenly, making you scream at the sudden pain.

"Already, doll? We haven't even fucked your pretty little pussy yet!", Bucky laughs, now openly stroking his dick in his hand.

Steve cups your pussy through the thin fabric of your underwear, before plunging a thick finger inside you without warning. You're dry, scared out of your mind, so you whimper at the intrusion.

"You better get wet doll, or I'll go in anyway," he threatens in a low voice as he slowly pushes in and out of you, your pussy getting wetter by the second. Your face is suddenly grabbed by Bucky who kisses you hard, almost dragging you out of Steve's lap in the process, bending your neck backwards as far as it can go.

"Fuck, Steve, she tastes like heaven! I can't believe Brock had her all these years!" He exclaims, his lips everywhere on your skin, marking you sinfully.

Steve has already undone his zipper and taken out his dick. He takes you back from Bucky, manhandling you to sit astride on his lap. He grabs your waist and makes you roll your hips slowly, your pussy making contact with his hard length, making you whimper again at how delicious his length feels gainst your clit.

"Don't worry, Bucky. We can play with her now," he replies. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your collarbone, your shoulders, leaving dark bruises on your skin as he suckles and nips at it. He then pushes your underwear aside, aligning the tip of his dick with your pussy and slamming inside you in one hard push.

You scream, tears springing in your eyes.

He's so big, so much bigger than Brock, who caused you pain in other ways because his dick was inadequate. You grab at Steve's shoulders, biting your lip hard as he continues pulling your body up then slamming down hard on his length, bruising your cervix in the process no doubt. Your head falls forward on his shoulder, and he holds you tight in his arms for a couple seconds before pulling your head back by your hair and looking at your face.

"Take off your dress, sweetheart, and STOP biting your lip," he growls. "I wanna hear every single sound you make".

You somehow manage to do it, exposing your naked, braless body to him.

Behind you, Bucky groans when he sees your tits. He is still stroking his dick languidly. "Hurry up Steve, I want to fuck her too," he says.

Steve picks you up and lays you down on the table, his dick still inside you. He pins your wrists by the sides of your head as he slams into you, so hard you almost see stars. Your pussy tightens as you start coming, his lips on your nipples biting and nipping and kicking your skin. It makes you dizzy with the pain. But the pleasure of his lips and his dick combined make you lose control, and you scream as you come around his dick.

"Yes, princess, FUCK! Come around my dick, baby! ", he yells, continuing to slam your cervix. It takes him a few strokes more before he follows you, grabbing your tits in his hands as he slams deep into your pussy and spills his cum.

When he pulls out, you whimper at the sudden loss of contact.

"All yours, Bucky".

Bucky walks up to you where you're still lying naked on the table, panting slightly, your body shivering slightly from the cold air in the room.

He has taken off his shirt. He looks down at you, smiling darkly.

"It's gonna be a long night, baby," he chuckles softly.

"Take a minute before I fuck the life out of you."

[bossbtch1]

Golden Boy of America

Summary : What if Steve Rogers wasn't the revered symbol of American virtue that everyone believed him to be? Contrary to the public perception of his kindness and charm, you've come to realize it was all a façade. Now, you find yourself in a nightmarish scenario—kidnapped and bound, questioning everything you thought you knew about the man once hailed as the golden boy of America.

Pairings : Dark!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Words : 6,9k

General tags : SMUT, 18+, NSFW

TW : dark fic, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, degradation, non-con, dirty talk, oral sex, smut, vibrator, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, rough sex, p in v, overstimulation, breeding kink, forced impregnation

A/N : This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I've been going back and forth, tweaking the story to add a darker twist. I've always felt like there's more beneath the surface of Captain America's heroic façade, he did good and sacrificed everything for the world. What if he's not as perfect as he seemed? And you had to be the one who found out about his true side, his dark side. That's the premise of this one shot, enjoy~

Before you continue, please read TW again. This is a dark!fic and explicit, strictly for readers 18+.  I don't condone any of this kind of thinking in real life, this is purely fan fiction. Please, DO NOT PROCEED if these themes disturb you. Please don't read if this content is not your cup of tea, you've been warned.

My masterlist

The sound of a car door slamming shut is the last thing you remember before everything went black. A dull ache in your head is what you first felt when you woke up.

When you open your eyes, you find that your hands and legs are bounded by rope and tape, the coldness of the floor and walls send shivers down your spine. It takes a few seconds for you to process the situation you were in. The first thing that came into mind was where you were, who did this and why? Your memories were all a blur, you can't remember how you got into this predicament.

You hear a door open from somewhere, it echoes in the empty space, making the hairs on your arm stand up. You start to feel anxious and scared as your heart beats loudly. "Hello?" You say and the voice bounces off the walls, not knowing who was behind this.

"Good, you're awake now." A familiar voice speaks out, walking into the room. Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape.

"S-Steve? W-What's going on? Why am I here?" You ask him, fear evident in your voice. Steve doesn't answer and stares at you blankly. He's standing right in front of you. "Answer me!" You demand but he remains silent, only looking at you.

"You don't have the right to tell me what to do." He said with a dark expression. 

"What the fuck, Steve!" you said as you were tied to a chair. The ropes were tight enough to not get out of but loose enough so it doesn't hurt. "Let me go, Steve, you bastard!"

He was standing in front of you with his arms crossed and a stoic expression. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked like he was going to kill someone.

"Why should I? So, you can escape and go tell on me? Tell everyone what a bad man I am? Huh?" Steve said as he walked up to you and grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. "You know I can't let you do that."

He kept you in a small bedroom. The wallpaper was torn, revealing the rotten wood behind it. A single bed and a rickety drawer stood as the only furnishings. The window had its shutters closed, allowed no glimpse of the outside world and there was only a single light bulb illuminating the room. It gave a very eerie feeling.

"Steve, let me go." You said in a low voice.

"I can't do that." He said, running his fingers through his hair. "If I do, they will find me and put me in jail."

"Steve, they will not find you. I swear I won't tell anyone." You said as you tried to get up. But Steve came up and pushed you back to the chair.

"Stop. Fucking. Moving." He said in a menacing tone. "You're not the boss here. I am." He said.

"Do you think you can just imprison me like this?" you shouted, your voice cracking with frustration. "What you're doing is cruel and inhumane!"

A chilling smile crept across Steve's lips as he retorted, "Oh, I can, and I will. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. I have my reasons, and I won't let you ruin everything I've worked for."

Your voice trembled with shock and disbelief, "What do you mean I'm not the first? There were others before me? What happened to them? Who are you?!"

"I've always been Steve Rogers, the same person you met and fell for. As for the others, they were my mistakes, and I fixed them." Steve replied in a casual tone as if talking about the weather. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you won't have to worry about that. I won't make the same mistakes twice."

"What happened to them?" you asked, feeling the blood drain from your face.

"That's none of your concern, sweetheart. You don't need to worry about them. All you need to worry about is obeying me."

You couldn't believe that the man in front of you was the same person you'd known. "I will not obey you, Steve."

He laughed as he sat on the bed, "You’re not the Steve I know. You're fucking insane! You're no hero!" You screamed at him, "I saw you kill that man, Steve. You took his life without a shred of remorse."

He shook his head. "Y/N it was necessary. He was a criminal, and it was self-defense."

"No it wasn’t!" you raised your voice. “You had other options, you could have spared his life, but you didn't. You killed him because you're a psychopath!"

He ignored your statement and said, "I told you, you should have never followed me. You've made this very hard for yourself." He crossed his arm, "I warned you, I tried so fucking hard so you wouldn't see any of this, but you just had to follow me."

He was right, if you listened to him and didn’t follow him, you wouldn’t end up like this. You didn't know how to respond.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me next?"

"Oh, please, if I was going to kill you, I would have done it the minute I brought you here." He said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, why would I kill you when you could be so much more useful to me alive."

"Useful?"

"Yeah. I could use some help." He said as he walked closer to you.

"What kind of help?" you asked.

He smirked and licked his lips. "The fun kind."

"Steve, what are you talking about?" you asked, fearing the answer.

He leaned in closer and whispered into your ear. "I'm sure you'll be a good girl and obey."

You didn't like where this was going. "Steve, please let me go." you whispered, trying not to cry. You were scared, you were tied to a chair and no one knew where you were. You were scared of what Steve was going to do to you.

"You're begging already?" He laughed dryly. "It hasn't even been 20 minutes."

"Please." You sighed and tried to break free from the ropes. "You can't keep me here, Steve. Please"

"I can do anything I want." he whispered, his face getting closer to yours. You tried to lean back, but there was no room. You could feel his breath fanning over your face. You shut your eyes.

"You don't want to do this, Steve." You said.

"Don't I?" he asked, tilting his head. "Because it seems like I do."

"Please..." You opened your eyes, you had tears forming in them. You were scared, he could do anything he wanted to you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

"You look so pretty when you beg, you know that?" he said, his face inches from yours.

"Steve, don't do this. Please" You begged.

He ran his fingers over your cheek and wiped away the tear that was threatening to fall. "Shame that it had to be like this."

"Steve... I-I promise I won't tell anyone." you whimpered, flinching at his touch. You didn't want him to touch you.

He shook his head. "You've seen what I did."

"It was an accident. We can get out of this," you pleaded, your voice laden with desperation, seeking any flicker of empathy in his eyes.

"No. We can't. This was inevitable. Don't worry, sweetheart. You're going to love it here," Steve declared with an unsettling certainty, his tone almost comforting, as if he genuinely believed the twisted reality he was creating.

"Steve, please. You can't keep me here. If not for you, at least do it for our friendship. Please, let me go"

"This will be the last time you beg, Y/N. I will not repeat myself. You're not going anywhere. This will be your new home"

"It won't be," you insisted, defiance laced with fear.

"You'll see, in time, you'll change your mind." Steve's response echoed through the room, the unsettling assurance leaving you with a sinking feeling of dread as the realization set in that escape seemed increasingly improbable.

The room seemed to close in, the peeling wallpaper and the flickering light bulb casting eerie shadows that danced around the space, creating an atmosphere of both captivity and impending menace.

Your hand struggled against the rope as you watched him. Your eyes wide and frightened. "You see, my sweet Y/N. I've got my eye on you for quite a while. Maybe after I've had my fun with you, I'll consider letting you go. Who knows" he smiled at you, his hand caressing your lips. You felt sick.

"Don't you dare touch me" you hissed, jerking your face away from him. His eyes flashed with anger for a second before it was gone. 

"You don't have a choice" he chuckled. He took hold of your jaw and brought his face closer to yours, his lips a breath away. "I will enjoy making you scream and beg for mercy."

You felt his hands trail down your neck and down to the top of your shirt. He looked up at you before ripping your shirt open, making the buttons fly across the room. You gasped as you felt the cool air hit your skin. You were left in your bra, the thin lace fabric the only thing protecting you.

"Don't" 

"Don't what?" He grinned and pulled your bra straps down, exposing your breasts. You tried to cover yourself but you couldn't. You were still tied to the chair, and he was stronger than you.

"Please. Just stop" You felt tears roll down your cheeks.

"Oh, honey. This is just the beginning" He took one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it, making you gasp in pain. He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. You squirmed under his touch, trying to push him away, but he held onto your wrists and kept you in place.

"Stop! Please, Steve. I'm sorry!"

"No. I don't think you're sorry" he growled as he moved to your neck and bit down. He sucked on the sensitive skin, making sure he left a mark.

"Stop!" you exclaimed, trying to push him off you. He chuckled at your efforts, then next he was moving his hands down your waist and stopping at the top of your jeans.

"Now, be a good girl and stay still. Wouldn't want to ruin such pretty underwear, now would we?" he asked as he slowly pulled your pants down. Your breathing sped up and you started to squirm.

"Steve, stop, please, I'm sorry, just let me go, please" you pleaded, tears pricking your eyes. You couldn't believe that he was doing this.

"Stop with the dramatics, princess. It won't change a thing. Just sit back and enjoy, it'll feel better if you relax" he cooed, pulling your jeans down to your ankles. You felt a sob escape your throat as he looked down at you, his eyes looking hungry and lustful.

"Please, don't do this, Steve, please"

"Shh, princess, I'm going to make you feel good, okay? But, first, I gotta take these off" he murmured, reaching for your panties. Your breathing stopped, and you felt yourself shake.

"Steve" you whimpered, shaking your head. Tears were falling down your face, and Steve was wiping them away. 

"Such a pretty sight. You're gonna look so pretty covered in my marks" he whispered as he leaned down and started to suck on your neck. You let out a strangled moan as you tried to move your head away from him.

"Get off, you creep" you groaned, trying to kick him away. He didn't seem fazed and just held your hips down. He was much stronger than you, and the more you struggled, the harder his grip became.

"That's it, baby. Squirming like a little slut" he murmured, moving his hand down and under your panties. You shook your head frantically, trying to kick him away again.

"Don't touch me, please" you begged, closing your legs tightly. He looked up at you, his blue eyes darkening with lust. "Steve, get off me!"

"You know, I've seen the way you've looked at me. Like a piece of meat" He was right, you couldn’t lie, you were attracted to him ever since you first saw him. Who wasn’t attracted to him? He was kind and gentle. Even right now after you found out who he really was, you still feel attracted to him. You knew you shouldn’t be. 

“You’re disgusting!” You spat in defiance, you were in denial. 

"You say that now, but I'll have you screaming my name"

"I'll never scream your name, you pervert."

"We’ll see about that, princess.” he murmured, kissing down your stomach. You shivered as you felt his warm breath fanning over your stomach. You didn't want him this close. 

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but why are you already wet huh?” You were shaking your head, trying to get him to stop. But it felt so good. 

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but you sure are wet, darling. So, what is it, hm? Tell me, are you wet because you want me or is it something else?” He pushed a finger inside of you, making you gasp. He began pumping his finger in and out, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck. I've always wondered what you would feel like. So tight and warm." He continued pumping his finger in and out of you, and you tried to hold back a moan. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he was pleasuring you.

"Scream my name, princess."

"Never." You said through clenched teeth. 

"That's fine, sweetheart, I can do this all day." He smirked.

You could feel his finger moving inside of you, hitting the spot that made your legs tremble. You tried to hold back a moan, but he knew what he was doing.

"Oh fuckkk," you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"That's right, princess, be a good girl for me" he groaned, moving his fingers inside you. You moaned, feeling him thrust his fingers in and out. He moved his lips back to your neck, biting and sucking. He added another finger and curled his fingers inside of you.

You let out a small moan, and he smirked. "Come on, princess, you can do better than that."

He added a third finger and thrust them faster, making your hips buck. He was moving his fingers faster and faster, and you could feel yourself getting closer.

You couldn't stop the moans from escaping. Your body betrayed you.

He continued curling his fingers inside of you, and you felt a pressure building up.

"P-please, st-stop, I don't- I don't w-want" you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"What, princess, don't wanna have some fun?"

"No, I-I don't want th-this"

"Stop lying to yourself, princess.” He said as he kissed your cheeks. “You're so pretty like this, Y/N. All vulnerable and defenseless"

"I'm not-"

"Oh, baby, I know. But don't worry, I'll make you feel so good."

"Fuck, Steve"

"That's right, baby, moan my name. You sound so beautiful." He laughed and continued thrusting his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut as his fingers went deeper, hitting your g-spot.

"Beg me, princess. Beg me to make you come.” he said, moving his fingers faster. Your breathing sped up as he added a third finger, stretching your hole. 

"Screw you!" You refused to beg him, not giving him the satisfaction.

"You will. You'll beg me to make you come, and then you'll beg me to fuck you. You'll beg me to use your body until I've had my fill."

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. He began rubbing your clit again, causing your legs to shake. You could feel your climax approaching, and you didn't know whether to be relieved or scared. "I can feel how close you are. Say it, princess. Beg me."

Then when you were about to cum, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You wanted to cry. "No!" You panted, trying to catch your breath.

"Not yet, princess. You know what I want, princess. Tell me." He purred, licking his fingers clean. You knew what he wanted, you still refused.

He laughed. "You're really gonna make me do this, aren't you?"

You were so confused. You didn't know what he meant. "You're gonna make me show you just how bad you need this."

He got up from the bed and walked over to the closet. He opened the doors and reached inside, pulling out a bag.

"What is that?" you asked, nervously.

He turned and looked at you. He opened the bag and pulled out a long, thin, pink vibrator. Your eyes went wide, you began to tremble. You were terrified. He was going to use that on you.

He held the vibrator up to your face and pressed a button, making it hum. You shook your head at him, "Steve No!"

He walked back over to you and crouched down in front of you. He ran his hand down your thigh, before spreading your legs, "Such a pretty pussy, princess." he murmured, tracing a finger along your folds.

He put the vibrator between your legs, pressing it against your clit.

"Fuck! Don't!" you moaned, trying to get away. He grabbed your hair and pulled you closer to him. "Oh, princess, you're gonna cum on this. Then, you're gonna cum on my cock. And, after that, you're gonna beg me for more."

You let out a sob as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel yourself getting close again. "Please, Steve."

He pressed the vibrator against your clit harder, making you moan. You didn't want him touching you there, but you couldn't stop the pleasure. "Tell me what you want, Y/N"

"Steve, I can't. I don't want it, I can't, please"

"But, you do, princess. You're already wet for me. You want this."

You shook your head, trying to get away from the vibrator. He held onto your hips, keeping you still. He leaned forward and licked your nipple. He sucked your nipple, making you arch your back.

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator, causing your hips to buck. He let go of your nipple and moved the vibrator lower, rubbing it against your entrance.

"Fuck! Stop, Steve. I-I can't. It's too much!"

"Oh, baby, this is nothing. Just wait until I start fucking you."

You were getting closer, the pleasure almost unbearable. "Steve, please. Stop. Please. I can't. I'm gonna-"

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator. "Say it. Or I'll make this last even longer. I'll keep you here all night, and the whole time, I'll be inside you."

You moaned and closed your eyes. "Please… Steve…”

He chuckled. "I like hearing you beg, princess." He turned the vibrator off and moved it back up to your clit. He slowly pushed it into your tight cunt.

"I can't…."

He smirked, "Oh, baby, we've just gotten started."

He turned the vibrator on and fucked you with it. You arched your back and moaned. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up. You let out a whimper as he kissed you, hard. He pulled away and licked your neck. "You're such a slut for me, princess. You will love it when I fuck you."

You shook your head, trying to get him to stop. "Please, Steve. Stop."

He ignored you, thrusting the vibrator deeper inside you.

You were about to cum when he suddenly pulled the vibrator out. "Steve, please, I need-"

Everytime you were close to cum, he would turn the vibrator off,  making you frustrated and horny. "I can do this all day, princess."

You couldn't take it anymore, "Please Steve! Please let me cum, I can't take it anymore, please" You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. You really needed to cum so bad, he was edging you so hard.

You hated yourself for begging him. He kept the vibrator pressed against your clit, and with his other hand, he began fucking you with his fingers again.

He grinned, "What's the magic word?"

"Please…."

"Wrong answer, princess." He chuckled and stood up. He turned the vibrator on and started walking towards you. He held the vibrator against your clit and rubbed it in slow circles. "Now, be a good girl and spread your legs."

You took a deep breath and slowly spread your legs, revealing your dripping cunt. “Good girl.” 

"Yes, oh god, Steve, please." You were moaning and panting, trying to hold off your orgasm, but he was making it impossible. "I can't hold back much longer, Steve, I'm so close. Please don’t stop." You were moaning, you didn’t care for anything, you needed to cum. 

But the moment you were about to cum, Steve stopped again, and removed the vibrator.

"Steve! No! Fuck!" You screamed, tears pricking your eyes. "What the fuck! Let me cum!"

He laughed, "So desperate. How long has it been since someone touched you like this? I can tell by your reactions that it's been a while." He turned on the vibrator again, “You will cum on my cock, now beg me to fuck you."

You were shaking, crying, "Fuck you, Steve. I'm not doing that."

He laughed, "Oh, I think you will. You're so desperate, Y/N, so close to the edge. You'll do anything to cum." He slowly undid his pants and stroking his cock in front of you. 

Your eyes widened as you stared at his length, you didn't think it was possible for a man to have such a huge cock. But, the sight of him stroking his cock was making you even wetter, and you couldn't help but want him to fuck you.

"Tell me you want me, tell me how much you want my cock."

"Steve, no. Please." You tried to close your legs, but he put the vibrator between them, spreading your lips and pushing the vibrator inside.

"If you don't, I'll just leave you here. Alone. Unsatisfied."

You were quiet, you shouldn’t want him, you should hold a little longer but he was being so good to you. It had been long since a guy made you felt like this. 

"Come on, princess. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me how much you want me inside you. Tell me how bad you want my cock." He grinned as he kissed your clit, “I’ll give you as many orgasms as you want. I’ll fuck you better than any guy you know. I’ll make sure you will never be more satisfied than being with me again."

His words sent it toward your clit, you clenched your pussy hearing him said that. You were frustrated, sobbing, you needed release, and you didn't care about anything. You were going to beg.

 You caved in, "Fine! Fuck me, Steve. Please fuck me. I need your cock, please!"

He leaned forward and kissed you. He bit down on your bottom lip, and you gasped. He chuckled, "I bet you'd let me do anything right now, wouldn't you, princess?"

He turned the vibrator back on and started fucking you with it. You were crying and moaning, begging him to let you cum. You could feel your orgasm approaching, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "Fuck, please, Steve, fuck. I'm so close, I'm gonna cum. Fuck."

"Cum for me, princess.” 

You came screaming, your whole body convulsing. You were shaking and sweating, your body aching from the pleasure.

He turned off the vibrator and pulled it out of you. He kissed your cheek, "Such a good girl. I'm so proud of you, princess."

You were panting, trying to catch your breath. "I hate you."

"You don't mean that, baby. You're just a little overwhelmed. It's okay."

You looked at him, his eyes were soft and gentle, but you knew he was crazy. You were still tied up, helpless, and completely at his mercy. He was going to use his large cock to fuck you, and you couldn't do anything to stop him.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll take care of you. I promise."

He started to untie you and you were confused. Was he letting you go? You tried to scramble to ran away from him but you didn’t get far, he wrapped his arms on your waist lifting you. “Steve! Put me down now!”

He ignored you and brought you back to the bed. He put you down and pinned you, using his body weight to keep you still. "Don't think this changes anything."

He kissed you, hard and hungry. You tried to push him away but it was useless, he was too strong. "Fuck, baby, you taste so good." He kissed down your neck, biting and sucking as he went. He stopped at your breast, taking one nipple in his mouth and the other in his hand.

"Steve, please..."

"You want me to stop, Y/N?"

"Yes!"

"Well, that's too bad. Because I'm not stopping until I'm finished with you. And you're gonna love every minute of it. You're my girl, Y/N. I'm never letting you go.” 

"No, please...don't...stop...don't hurt me, Steve."

He smirked, "I'm not going to hurt you, baby. I'm going to make you feel good."

He let go of your wrists and reached down between your legs. You gasped as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. "God, you're so wet. So wet and ready for me."

"Stop..."

"No. I'm not stopping, princess. You're going to come for me, just like you did with the vibrator. And then, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you all night long."

You tried to wiggle away from him, but it was no use. He was too strong. You tried to kick him, “Princess.” He warned, you stopped your movement, his tone made you scared. 

He then smiled, “Good girl.” 

You were trapped, at his mercy. He was going to hurt you, he was going to fuck you, and there was nothing you could do about it. You were his.

He slipped a finger inside of you, moving it in and out slowly. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're gonna feel so good on my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you even more. He kept pumping them in and out of you, making sure to hit your g-spot every time. You could feel another orgasm building.

"Oh God...oh fuck, Steve...please..."

"Please what, baby? Do you want me to stop?"

"No...don't stop...fuck, Steve..."

"Tell me, Y/N. Tell me what you want."

"I want...I want you to fuck me."

"You're such a dirty girl, Y/N. You're gonna come for me, aren't you?"

"Yes...oh God, Steve...yes...I'm gonna cum." He fucked you faster, harder, his fingers pounding into you. You couldn't hold back anymore, you threw your head back and screamed his name as you came, your whole body shaking with pleasure.

"Fuck, that's it, baby. You’re so beautiful, princess.” He didn't stop, he kept fucking you, his fingers buried deep inside you. You couldn't believe how good it felt, you had never been fucked like this before.

He kept rubbing your clit, prolonging your orgasm. You were panting and moaning, trying to catch your breath. "That's it, princess. That's it. Just like that."

He moved down and spread your legs wide open. "Fuck, baby. You're so fucking wet."

He licked your slit, tasting your juices. You moaned as he lapped at your folds, sucking and licking like his life depended on it.

He pulled back and looked up at you, "You taste so fucking good, baby. I could eat you all day long."

"Oh, god...please, Steve..."

"Please, what, princess? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes..."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please, fuck me, Steve."

"Fuck, I love when you beg, princess."

His cock was rock hard, the tip leaking precum. He grabbed the base and stroked it a few times before positioning himself between your legs. He lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the tip through your folds, coating it in your wetness. "Fuck... Steve… It's not going to fit."

"It'll fit, princess. I promise." He slowly pushing inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. It hurt, but the feeling of him stretching you was incredible. He was so big and you felt so full. "God, you're so tight, Y/N. So wet. Do you like my cock, baby? Do you like the way it feels?"

"Oh god, Steve. So full." You moaned.

He started moving, thrusting into you. The pace was slow and steady, letting you get used to his size. "God, you feel so fucking good, princess. So fucking good."

It hurt at first, but the pain soon turned to pleasure. You were moaning, begging him for more. "Steve...faster..."

He grinned, "You want it faster, baby? You want me to fuck you faster?"

"Yes...please...faster..."

He quickened his pace, pounding into you. He grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Fuck, yes, Steve!"

"That's it, baby. Scream my name. Scream my name as I fuck you."

"Oh, god...yes...please, Steve... harder!"

He groaned and started slamming into you, fucking you hard and fast. "Fuck, baby. You're such a slut, begging me to fuck you harder."

You were lost in pleasure, moaning and screaming his name. "That's it, baby. Tell me how good it feels, princess. Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

"So good, Steve...it feels so good...I love you fucking me, Steve."

"Yeah, you do, don't you? You love being fucked by me huh?" He growled and pounded into you, harder and faster.

"I love it...please, Steve, more..." He felt so good inside you, you should've hating him, but all you wanted was more. You shouldn’t want him but fuck no one ever fucked you this good. "Yes, Steve, oh god, yes. Please fuck me."

"Yeah, baby, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you hard. I'll fuck you until you can't walk." He began thrusting his hips, fucking you hard and fast. He sped up his thrusts, slamming into you harder and deeper. You were lost in the pleasure, not caring about anything else. All that mattered was him and how good he made you feel.

You were so close, you could feel your orgasm building. "Steve...I'm gonna come."

"Yeah? You gonna come, baby? You gonna come on my cock?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, you are. You're gonna come all over my cock. You're gonna come for me, baby. Come on, princess. Come for me." He then went to sucked your neck and then bit it, hard. "Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself come. Rub that fucking clit while I fuck you."

You obeyed, reaching down and rubbing your clit. It only took a few seconds before you were coming, screaming his name and digging your nails into his back.

"Fuck, yes, princess. That's it. Come for me."

You were coming down from your high and he was still pounding into you

You moaned and came, your body shaking with pleasure.

He didn't stop, he kept fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it. You were so oversensitive and it was almost too much, but you didn't want him to stop.

He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up. "Oh, God, yes, Steve!" He slammed back into you, his pace relentless. "You like that, princess? You like me fucking you?"

"Yes! Oh, God, yes! Don't stop!"

He reached around and rubbed your clit, making you moan even louder. "Come for me, princess. Come for me again. I want to hear you scream."

You were close, you could feel your orgasm building again. He pinched your clit and that was it. You came, screaming his name. He continued to fuck you, not slowing down at all.

"God, I love it when you scream, princess. Keep screaming for me."

You were barely coming down from your orgasm and he was already pushing you towards another one. You couldn't take it, it was too much. You were oversensitive and it was almost too much. He leaned forward and kissed your neck, whispering in your ear, "That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all."

"Steve, please...it's too much...it's too much..."

"Shh, princess. I know. I know. But you can take it. You can take it, can't you, baby?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, I know. I know you can. You're my good girl, aren't you?" He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back. "Now, say it. Say you're my good girl."

"I'm your good girl." 

"Fucking right you are." He said and went to fondled your breast while he pounded into you, his pace unforgiving. His trusts became erratic, you knew he was close.

Then you remember, he didn't wear a condom and you weren’t on birth control.  "Please pull out! Don't come inside of me, please! I’m not on birth control!”

He stopped, but didn't pull out. "You're kidding, right? What's the point in fucking you if I don't come inside of that tight pussy of yours? I'm gonna fill you up, make you mine."

You started to panic. "Please, you'll get me pregnant. Please don't come inside of me."

"No, you're mine now. And I'm gonna breed you, just like you deserve. You're going to give me what I want and you're going to take it."

"Please, don't come inside of me." Your breath came in gasps, you couldn't hold back your moans anymore, even though you were crying. You tried to push him off, but he didn't let you, didn't stop fucking you.

"Please, please don't. I'll do anything you want. Please just pull out, I'll let you fuck me every morning. I'll be your good girl, please just not inside." You were sobbing now, but your cunt was dripping.

“Your body says otherwise, princess.” He picked up his pace again. Fuck, you like this, don't you? You're so wet. You want to have my babies, don't you? Fuck, yeah, you're a good girl, begging for my cum."

He felt you trying to pull away and he slapped your ass, hard. "You're not going anywhere, princess. You're going to stay here and take my cock. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you." He moaned, his thrusts were becoming more desperate, his hand left your waist and moved to your clit, rubbing hard.

You whimpered and he slapped your ass again. "Don't fight me, princess. Just let go and enjoy it. You're already mine, and now you're going to have my baby. We're going to have a family, Y/N. You're not leaving me."

You gave up, your body submitting to him. He was in complete control and there was nothing you could do. He kept fucking you, going even faster and harder. "There you go, baby. That's it. Let me take care of you."

Your pussy started to contract and you screamed, a wave of pleasure rolling through you. "Yeah, fuck. I knew you'd like this. Fuck, you're squeezing me, that's it. Take it, take it all, be a good girl and take it."

He moaned and pumped into you harder, until his hips stuttered and his cock pulsed.

"Ahhhh!" You cried as he spilled his seed inside of you, filling your insides. He groaned at the feeling of you, warm and wet, squeezing around him. He let go of your wrists and wrapped both his arms around your waist. 

When he was finished, he stayed inside of you, breathing heavily. "Fuck, that was great. Best sex I ever had."

 When he pulled out, you felt his come dripping down your leg. "We can't waste this, can we?" He thrusted his finger into you, gathering his come. You were still shaking, not able to comprehend what just happened.

He shoved his finger into your mouth. "You'll be a good girl, won't you? Now clean my fingers.”

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, you were too exhausted to do anything, just opened your mouth and let him shove his fingers down your throat.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you and the baby." He whispered. "You'll be the perfect mom."

"Oh, no. We're not done yet." He grabbed your face with his clean hand, and pulled you into a kiss. He pushed his tongue inside of your mouth, tasting his cum. "You're such a good girl. Now, I'll give you a reward."

He got down on his knees and pushed your legs apart, then leaned forward, licking your clit. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive skin, but quickly bit your lip, trying to keep quiet.

He looked up at you. "Don't worry, honey. I love the sounds you make. So sweet. Keep making those noises for me." He moved his tongue over your clit, slowly, teasing.

He licked and sucked at your clit, while you moaned, the sensation almost too much. "I know you're sore, honey. But I wanna hear you come on my tongue. Be a good girl and come for me, can you do that?"

"Yes."

He continued sucking your clit, and moved his hand down to your pussy, pushing his fingers inside. He moved his fingers in and out of your pussy, slowly, but it was still too much.

"Please, Steve, make me come."

"That's my good girl." He moved his fingers faster, sucking harder, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your moans were louder, your whole body felt hot.

"Steve, oh god, oh god, I'm coming."

You felt him smile against your clit, his tongue moving faster, sucking and licking. Your moans became screams, your legs were shaking, you felt the pressure building in your belly, your whole body shaking. You came hard, squirting on his face.

"You taste so sweet." He got up from his knees, his cock hard again, and pressed it against your pussy.

"Please, not again. It's too much. I-I'm too tired. I can't...I don't have any more energy." 

"I can give you energy, princess" He pushed into you, and you screamed, the feeling too intense. He pulled out and then slammed back into you, setting a brutal pace. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and moved his hips in a circular motion, the pressure in your belly building again.

You sighed, you didn't have any energy left. Steve had been non-stop ever since the day he took you, he didn't give you a single moment to rest. You were always filled with his cum. "You'll enjoy it, princess. You always do."

He started to thrust up into you, and you felt your orgasm building. "Oh, God, Steve!"

"That's it, baby, scream my name."

"Steve! Oh, God, Steve!"

You came, clenching around his cock. He groaned, and you felt him spill inside you, his hot cum filling you up. "Fuck, baby, you're so good."

He kissed you, and you could feel him getting hard inside of you again. "No, Steve, please. I can't..."

"Yes, you can, princess. I know you can."

He started to move again, and you knew you were in for a long night.

You couldn't help but moan, you could feel his thick length filling you up. His cum was still inside of you and it was a warm feeling. You were so tired and he could tell, "One more time, princess, and I'll let you sleep."

He was so big, and he hit all the right spots. You couldn't help but moan, it felt so good.

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his cum, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You moaned as he thrust deeper into you. He was so big and it felt so good. You were lost in the pleasure, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered was him and the way he made you feel.

"Say you want me to come inside of you."

"I want you to come inside of me, Steve."

“Beg me.”

“Please, Steve. I want your cum. Please fill me up.”

"Good girl." He kept his rhythm, the feeling of his cock inside of you was too much, but it was so good.

"Come for me, be a good girl and come for me."

Your body was shaking, you felt his cock throb and fill you up again, and then you were coming, your legs trembling, your moans loud.

"Fuck, yeah. You're such a good girl, so sweet, coming for me. So tight, fuck. Such a good girl."

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you. He held himself above you, watching your face, while he fucked you. His cock was still inside of you, twitching, the feeling so intense.

"And don't you forget it. You're mine, and no one else is gonna fuck you. Cause you're mine, and I'm gonna keep you pregnant, giving me all the babies I want."

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his mark and seed, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You didn't have a choice, he wouldn't let you go. He'd fuck you every day, until he had knocked you up. You didn't even want a baby, and he didn't care. He'd do whatever he wanted. You had no choice but to obey him. But he made you feel so good and gentle with you, you couldn't help but enjoy it.

You had given up, the police weren't going to find you. No one was. You were his prisoner, his plaything. And he was going to keep you forever.

But, in a twisted way, you didn't mind. Because he was always there for you, taking care of you, fucking you, loving you. You had never felt this way about anyone before. And deep down, you knew you were falling in love with him.

"I love you, Y/N. And I'm gonna take care of you, and our baby. Forever."

"I love you, too, Steve."

FIN

A/N : So what do you guys think? Let me know in the comments, I want to know about your thoughts! 

[mercurial-chuckles]

Hi! For your smutty September fest I'd like to request 6) marathon session (they just fucking keep going, babyyyy), and the pairing Steve Rogers x reader, please 🥺

Thank you for sending in the ask 🩷Apologies for how long it took, love!

Pairing: Husband!Steve Rogers x F!Reader Summary: Steve has gone feral, and you are the only one who can calm him. Warnings: Minors DNI | Feral Steve | Slightly dark Steve | Possessive husband Steve | Smut galore | Semi public smut | Stuntish smut | A load of fluff in the end | Language | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: I've refurbished and rewritten this fic for SMUT-BER FEST | It was originally part of Steve Rogers Bingo Round 3 with the prompt: Multiple Orgasms. But this fit perfectly for your ASK. Hope you enjoy it! @nekoannie-chan 🥹🫂✨

Read Berserk Captain Rogers!

PS: I'm whimpering in shame at the filth I've spewed. 🤭

[highonmarvel]

Hi there! May i please request a mob!steve x reader where the reader used to be with him but when she found about his mob life she left him so like the HR he decided to ruin her life and one day he just shows up in her now downgraded apartment and manipulates and gaslights her into coming back to him, and she just goes back because she’s just in a vulnerable place

Feel free to add your own spin to it btw love your work soo much! Especially the biker!bucky 🤗

oh, i like this! and thank you so much for the love! i hope you enjoy. and i apologise for taking over a month to get back to you, shit’s been wild for me. okay, here we go:

Easy Luxury

Steve Rogers: You find out how your suspiciously wealthy boyfriend makes his money, and have to start over without it.

content warnings here!

It was never manipulation, it was a deep understanding that enabled him to know what you needed before you even opened your mouth, a symptom of being the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy next door type. Naturally, he knows what’s best for you, you’d never have to question him. And you didn’t.

Steve was suspiciously wealthy for such a humble and down-to-Earth guy, but you didn’t question it; his expensive car, his shiny watch, his high rise penthouse, his seemingly endless cash, you didn’t read too much into it, you just enjoyed his presence, and his luxury didn’t hurt either; anything you wanted, and things you didn’t, Steve gave to you, and you accepted gratefully. He even insisted you live closer to him until he didn’t have so many people coming in and out of his apartment for something he never quite explained, and then you could move in with him. You live in a nice ass building a block down from him, making for easy visits, curtesy Steve.

You sigh as you place your bag down in the lift on the way up to the top floor, excited to surprise Steve. You had head to see your parents for what was supposed to be two weeks, but after just one you’d had enough, and you missed Steve.

You excitedly bounce on your toes as you pick your bag up again, the elevator numbers just a few ticks from the top. With a wide grin, you stare straight ahead as the the doors open, and that smile immediately drops.

Right in the middle of your living room, Steve is ripping the teeth out of a guy tied to a chair. Even the back of his shirt is bloodied, and there’s so much blood on the floor you have to assume there have been many other people in this man’s position in the time you’ve been away.

“You fucking rat,” he grunts as he pries the man’s mouth open again and sticks an adjustable wrench into the back of his cheek. It clasps onto one of his wisdom teeth and Steve pries it out, and you can tell he’s satisfied despite his back facing you. The man lets out a bloodcurdling scream and Steve tosses the tooth onto a pile of at least five others.

“Workin’ for the Starks, huh?”

The Starks are a well known mob family in New York, and if they’re Steve’s rivals then…

You gasp out loud.

Steve whips around, and his face, though covered almost entirely in crimson, goes pale.

“Baby! You’re back early.”

You finger flies to the close button for the doors, pressing furiously as if that’s gonna make it happen faster. Steve races towards you, calling your name as you anxiously push the button at lightning speed. At the very last split second, just before Steve can stick his hand between the doors, they shut, and the lift begins to descend. You hear Steve’s frustrated “Fuck!” and banging above you as your stomach sinks with the elevator.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what can you do? Steve had convinced you to quit your job, you pretty much lived exclusively off of him, but you can’t possibly stay with him, yet you’re rendering yourself homeless if you leave.

Once you get to the ground floor, you race out the door, leaving your bag behind and ignoring a concerned look from the doorman as you dart out. You phone buzzes in your pocket, and you know it’s Steve. You ignore the vibrating phone call and run towards your apartment. You’re sure you have some money cobbled together from Christmas cards over the years. No way in hell you can pack your things, and you know you’ll have to get rid of your phone, but you need at least a little bit of cash.

You’re sure you’re on the verge of dying from a lack of oxygen as you make it to your apartment and slam the door behind you, locking it, too, though you doubt that’ll keep him out.

You’re furiously rummaging through drawers when a gentle rap at the door makes your soul damn near leap out of your body.

“Honey?” Steve calls, voice calm as ever, as if he didn’t just commit such unspeakable violence, and who knows what fucking else he’s done that you’ve never seen? And how did he get here so quick? Is he still covered in blood and spit and flesh and evidence from his torture?

You try to tune him out as you look for the last of the envelopes to add to your small pile, but you can’t ignore his gentle voice trying to coax you into a state of relaxation he would soothe you into when your anxiety became too much to bare.

“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.”

“Go away!” you manage to shriek through hyperventilation.

“Don’t do something stupid,” he warns, voice low in a way you’ve never heard him use before, and if you were terrified before, you were on the verge of a heart attack now.

With a few envelopes and no way to escape, you run to the window and peer down; you’re three floors up with some soft patches of grass beneath you. You don’t have time to even calculate it, surely adrenaline will get you through the pain if you’re severely hurt. You’re working up the nerve, and just as Steve busts the door in, yelling your name, you jump, luckily landing on your feet, but falling soon after, and briefly wondering if you’ve dislocated your knee as you scramble to stand and start running.

Steve shouts your name from the window but you don’t even look back, just running to God knows where. You’re sure you’ve run full speed for more than half an hour when, by such luck, you stumble across a really cheap looking motel. Just as you throw some cash to the guy to give you a key, you feel around in your pockets for your phone, panicked, and for the first time in your life, you’re glad to have lost it. He can’t find you now, at least not by tracking, you hope. Though you might have expected to be plagued by insomnia due to your stress, you pass right the fuck out as soon as your head touches the crusty pillow on the room’s stained mattress.

***

The sun isn’t out when you snap your eyes open, it couldn’t have been more than six hours since you ran away, then, but there’s no sign of Steve, and you let out the biggest breath of relief there ever could be. You head to the bathroom to shower and think of your next move, but it’s so filthy you wonder if you’re only making yourself dirtier by stepping in. You’re sweaty, and your body is physically tired from the sprinting. You flop onto the floor as you try to consider your next move. You’ve got an old friend living in Queens! You haven’t spoken to her in years, literally since high school, but since then she had practically been living on her own and raising herself and her sister, you can’t imagine she’s moved since then.

You have to walk a ways before you manage to get to an area you can hail a cab, and that takes a little more effort than you would have liked to exert. By some grace you manage to remember the address, and as you pull up, the house looks pretty much the same as all those years ago, giving you a glimmer of hope.

You drag yourself to the front door and manage to knock despite your weak body.

The door opens after a few moments to reveal the red hair you haven’t seen in forever, yet still, she looks virtually the same.

“Natasha!” you say as you collapse into her arms.

“Oh my God!” she cries, but she catches you with ease, “What are you doing here? What happened?”

You can barely speak, but she seems to somewhat understand as she leads to you to her living room and gently sets you down on the couch. Her blonde sister comes running into the room, eyes wide and panicked.

“Yelena!” Natasha calls, and hurriedly says words in Russian you could never understand. Yelena leaves and returns with a cup of water, which you gratefully accept, not realising just how thirsty you actually were. You gulp down the water like a dying fish and Yelena immediately leaves to get you another.

Sitting down and not on the verge of dehydration, you can speak, but your voice is still hoarse.

“I’m sorry for dropping in like this—”

“Don’t ever apologise for coming to me,” she cuts you off sternly, nearly angrily, like she’s irritated you thought you could ever bother her. She was this way in high school, but still, you haven’t spoken in years and years, and you feel bad for that. You know she can help you, or she’ll try to do everything in her power to do so, but you can’t let her get involved in mob business… like you were, unknowingly.

“I’m just in a rough spot,” you say, nodding thanks to Yelena as you take the second cup of water and down it even quicker than you did the first one. She sits down next to you, concerned, as Natasha is seated across from you on the opposite couch, leaning forward, forearms on her thighs as she listens attentively, “Don’t have a job or a place, or anyone else I can go to. I’ve got a bit of money, can you help me find a cheap place?”

“Just stay with us,” Yelena says, sitting up straight.

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees, “It’s clear there’s a lot going on, please, don’t be alone right now. You can stay here, I can help you get a job.”

Even after all this time, she treats you so beautifully, but you can’t let her get wrapped up in this; if Steve finds you, he might hurt Nat and Yelena, and you’d never be able to live with that (and maybe you won’t have to if he kills you too).

“No!” you say, a little louder than needed, causing the pair to give you strange looks, “Please,” you say, speaking softer now, “If you want to help me, can I just use your shower and you help me get a place? I know you know a lot of people.”

You can tell she wants to protest, but Nat only presses her lips into a thin line and exhales through her nostrils, nodding before standing up.

“Okay,” she concedes, “Yelena will get you some fresh clothes and I’ll make some calls.”

“Thank you,” you say, with more sincerity than you ever have in your life. Yelena helps you up, and you want to protest, but realise you’re a lot weaker than you thought, and you can’t tell if it’s mental or physical exhaustion.

You have to sit down in the shower, rinsing the stickiness off of you and watching it float in the few centimetres of water before being whisked down the drain.

You’re steadier on your feet once you’re clean and dressed, and you pop into the kitchen just as Nat hangs up her phone.

“Okay, I’ve got somewhere $95 a month, but it’s not great.”

You shake your head, “It’s perfect, thank you.” You counted around $650 in your cash, but if you get a job you can make it work.

“But you’re not leaving before you eat.”

Eating breakfast with Nat and Yelena takes the weight of the world off your shoulders, the three of you laughing about events from a decade ago with the same vigour you did when they first happened. But you can’t shake the feeling you have to leave, quick.

You’re nearly done helping the pair clean up when Nat comes up to you.

“Hey, what’s your number? We should stay in touch, even if just for a few months, just so I know you’re okay.”

“I lost my phone,” you sigh.

“I’m drop in every once in a while then, okay? And you can’t fight me on this. I’m honestly really worried about you,” she throws her dish rag over a chair and walks up to you, holding your shoulders as she looks into your eyes, “But I’m so glad you came. I’m always here for you. So is Yelena.”

You look to the doorway Yelena’s leaning against and she gives you a smile, but it’s a little sad.

“Thank you, Nat. I love you, so much. And I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

“These things happen, it’s fine. I’m just glad you’re in one piece. Looks like you had a hell of a night.”

You laugh shakily and nod, “I did. I’m surprised I didn’t dislocate a knee.”

“Oh my God… okay, conversation for another time, let’s just get you into your place. Do you have anything we need to take?”

You literally have no earthly possession with you at this point besides the envelopes, which you tuck into the inner pockets of Nat’s biker jacket she’s lending you. You refused to take any clothes other than one other pair of pants and a t-shirt, but Yelena promised she’d wash your others and bring them back, though you’re not even sure you want them anymore.

“I’ll be back with them tomorrow,” she says as she closes the door, leaving you alone in a flat you’re sure has mould.

There’s only a couch, a mattress, and a clock you’re not sure if displays the correct time, which is more than you were expecting. You flop down onto the slightly dirty couch and run your hands over your face. Now fed, hydrated, and somewhat rested, you can’t think of anything else to distract you from thoughts of Steve…

Okay, you’ll try to find a job tomorrow, for today, there’s nothing more you can do but try to sleep, even though it’s not even midday yet.

***

As promised, Yelena drops off your clothes the next morning, with the tears poorly sewn up, but you thank her for the effort and encourage her to leave the building before you do, in case Steve is watching, but you don’t cite that reason.

Half an hour later, you stride out, taking a walk down the dodgy streets, and luckily, you come across a bakery with an “URGENTLY HIRING” sign in the window. Your little streaks of luck would mean much more if it wasn’t overshadowed by everything else, and your luck ends when you’re half way into the interview.

“What?!” you gasp, trying to lean over to get a better look at the computer screen the interviewer (who’s just some teenager, probably a temp) is trying to shield from you.

“Ma’am, you have a charge for robbery, we can’t hire you.”

You exit in a daze, nearly numb at the realisation Steve would go this far. Why not just kill you? If he was worried you’d go to the police (the thought had never even crossed your mind until this moment), he’d just fucking kill you, or kidnap and torture you, he wouldn’t just leave you to rot out in the real world, that’s too risky.

You sadly make your way back to your flat, and who’s there when you open the door?

Steve stands with a crisp blue shirt in the centre of the room, and what can you do about it.

You fall to your knees and sob, face in your hands as you try to take in your fate. What did he want with you? You want to say you swear you’ll never tell anyone, that you haven’t told anyone, but you can’t speak through your gasping sobs.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, slowly making his way over to you, like he’s worried he’ll scare you off, “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’d never hurt you, baby, you weren’t supposed to see that, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I didn’t want to hurt you, ever, but I have.”

He sighs, and you manage to look back up at him, a somber coat over his blue eyes.

“And look at you,” he gently raises your arm to trace a finger over scrapes and scratches you guess are from darting through narrow alleyways and through thick bushes, “Baby, and look at his,” he gestures around him to the damp flat, and you sniffle, “You can’t stay here, come back, I’ll take care of you, like I always have.”

“Th- the arrest—”

“I had to do that, baby, I’m sorry. I just had to. If you were with me that never would have happened, see? And it can all go away. Honey, I’m offering you the world, all you have to do is come with me.”

With teary eyes you look around. You can’t live here too long or you’ll get some kind of mould poisoning, you can’t get a job, you can’t endanger Nat and Yelena…

“Okay,” you sigh, defeated, and just as Steve starts to smile, there’s a knock at the door. Natasha calls your name and you tense up, Steve looks down at you with his head cocked to the side.

“I think you better answer that, sweetheart. Tell her you’re not gonna be here anymore.”

He pulls you to your feet and you gulp as you lean your head against the door.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Let me in.”

If Steve sees Nat, he’ll know who to look for if you try anything like this again. But he’s sitting patiently on the couch, and he nods towards the door, beckoning you to open it. You take a deep breath and crack it open a bit.

“Hey, what’s up?” you think you say, but you can barely hear your words over the pounding of your heart.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, and you shoot a glance behind you, which you immediately regret when Nat bounces on her toes to get a look.

“Yeah,” you block her vision and bring her attention back to you, still trying to keep the door as close to closed as possible, “I… I have to go…”

“What?” she asks, “You just got here, what’s changed?”

“Things have worked out, it’s all good now, don’t worry—”

You freeze as you feel Steve behind you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you and Nat. You shut your eyes, willing this to be a trick of light or a hallucination due to stress, it can be anything but real.

“Hi. Steve Rogers,” he extends his hand, and Nat tentatively takes it, in only a way you know — to everyone else, she wouldn’t seem cautious, but you saw the clench in her right knee that gives away her switch to defence.

“Natasha Romanoff.”

Fuck, Nat, why did you say your name!?

“Nice to meet you. Don’t worry about her, she’s in good hands with me.”

She nods.

“Steve, could you go get my clothes for me? I think they’re in the bathroom or the bedroom, they’re the only two other rooms.”

He nods and turns away. Once he’s out of sight, Nat’s expression turns panicked as she scans your face, noticing tears welling. She doesn’t say it, but you can tell she’s pleading “Come with me.” You shake your head and quickly wipe away the tears before they fall, just as you hear Steve’s approaching footsteps again.

You shut the door just as he exits the bedroom with your neatly folded clothes from your recent run.

“Natasha washed these, I assume? Or was it Yelena?”

⍟

[taglist; @cjand10]

[glorystark]

His Saviour | Part 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You disobey one of Steve's orders in a mission but you don't think about the consequences...

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING!) mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of killing and torturing, pure Angst no happy ending, mentions of injures, dark!Steve Rogers, swearing, minor spoilers of Black Widow, Steve being an asshole in general

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Featuring: The original 6

Disclaimer: please don't read this if you're not comfortable with any of the topics below or/and if they trigger you. This is just a fiction and it's never ok to act like this. I'm not romanticizing any of these topics and this behaviour!

You are sitting in the Quinjet, observing everyone who is injured in different ways. Natasha has been stabbed in her right thigh, Clint’s left ankle has been twisted, and Bruce, although not injured, appears exhausted due to a significant code green call, during which Nat almost lost him trying to retrieve him. Thor has a few scratches on his face. Everyone’s faces show bruising in different areas, and their bodies are still aching. But you, you have been injured the most. Your right wrist is broken, and you have been shot in your left leg, though the bullet wasn’t deep and didn't cause major damage; otherwise, you probably would have passed out by now. You still have trouble breathing, and your voice is sore because one of the HYDRA agents almost choked you to death. Your face is bruised, you can only open your right eye halfway, and your lips are swollen. The numbness has made it so you can barely feel any pain. When everyone saw you upon returning to the jet, they were extremely worried. You didn’t possess inhuman powers and weren't a super soldier, but you used to be a well-trained assassin and spy in the Red Room, closely partnered with Natasha Romanoff before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. So, it was surprising for the team to see you so battered, though they understood the mission was challenging.

Everyone needed a break upon returning to the tower. Initially, everyone thought it was a straightforward mission: infiltrate a high-security HYDRA base, get two flash drives containing vital and dangerous information, and exit. What no one knew was that it was a trap, with far more agents present than expected. Eventually, you managed to escape, but only securing one of the flash drives.

As everyone settled back in the jet, Bruce finished removing the bullet from your leg and bandaging Nat’s thigh. Thor bragged to Tony about his usual lack of injuries on missions, joking that he could have taken down all the HYDRA agents that day if he hadn’t been 'unlucky', which elicited laughter from Tony. Clint checked on Nat while she recounted a memory from Budapest. Meanwhile, you contemplated going home for a long shower until you noticed Steve, whose eyes were fixed on you with intensity. Confused, you assumed he was lost in thought, but you were wrong.

“How could you be so reckless?!" Steve's voice boomed through the jet as he stood up from his seat, his gaze piercing into yours. Everyone stopped what they were doing, surprised by his uncharacteristically loud tone, given his usually calm demeanor, even when upset. You looked at him, uncertain of what to say. You understood why he was angry; you had disobeyed an order. However, if not for your 'disobedience,' you wouldn't have acquired half the information you have now. To you, this seemed like Steve Rogers throwing a typical Captain America tantrum.

“Well, are you going to answer, or are you too stupid to respond to a simple question?" he growled, advancing toward your seat.

“I wasn't being-" you began to mutter, only to be interrupted by Steve.

“Speak up," he demanded, his voice cutting you off. You met his gaze, puzzled by his demeanor.

“I wasn't being reckless; I was being thoughtful. The-" you tried to explain, but Steve interrupted again.

"Thoughtful?! You call that thoughtful?! Really, Y/n? It's clear you don't understand the difference between stupidity and thoughtfulness.” he retorted.

“Will you stop interrupting me?" you interjected, your voice growing louder as you rose from your seat. You locked eyes with Steve, standing almost chest to chest in front of each other.

“I wouldn't have interrupted you if I knew any useful words were going to come out of your mouth," he countered, finally yelling, causing everyone but you to flinch.

“You have no right to yell at me like this, Steve.” you asserted, standing up for yourself.

"I have EVERY right to yell at you, you-" he began, but you cut him off this time.

"Why are you making it seem like I committed a crime? Yes, I agree it was wrong for me to enter that room alone, but I retrieved the flash drive we needed, didn't I?" you challenged.

“That is not the point right now. The point is, I'm your captain, and I gave a strict, direct order not to enter that room, and you disobeyed me.” he stated firmly.

That was all true. When you disobeyed his order, you knew he would be angry, but not to this extent.

You sprinted down the hallway, incapacitating every HYDRA agent in your path. You tried not to use your gun too often, knowing there would likely be guards in the room.

"Steve, I found the room," you said through your earpiece. You subdued the agent guarding the room where the flash drives were, and as the door swung open, more than twenty HYDRA agents stood before you, blocking your view of the drives on the computer table.

“Y/n, what did you just say? Get out of there now! Do you even know how many agents are in there?" Steve's urgent voice echoed in your ear.

“I do now," you replied, still facing the agents, who were also eyeing you cautiously.

"Y/n, this is an order. Get. Out. Of. There. Now.” Steve commanded, his tone almost a shout.

“Sorry, Steve, but people's lives depend on this.” you declared, charging toward the agents, disregarding Steve's pleas for you to retreat.

“Steve, I really don't understand what the big deal is. I got one of the drives, and yes, I went alone, but at least I obtained something that will help us.” you reasoned, taking a seat.

“Alright, y/n, I'm definitely sure now that you are deaf. You entered a room with so many HYDRA agents-" he began, only to be cut off by you.

“They were like 10 and they were really weak-" you defended.

“They were 27 trained assassins!” he corrected, making you widen your eyes.

"And do I need to remind you that your leg has been shot, and you can barely keep your eyes open, not to mention the rest of your injuries." he added mockingly.

“Okay, Steve, I get it, and I'm sorry for being reckless. Can we let this go now?" you pleaded, sitting down.

“Let this go?!" he started laughing, though his laugh lacked any humor. Everyone looked at Steve, unable to believe his behavior. They never expected him to speak to you this way, especially in front of the whole team.

You and Steve had been friends since meeting during the Battle of New York. You had a lot in common and quickly connected. A few months later, at one of Tony's parties, he kissed you, and the following day, he asked you out. It had been six months since then, and Steve treated you like a princess. He called you his savior because you helped him adjust to life after being thawed from the ice. He adored you. You had a few minor disagreements, but they were hardly fights, more like disagreements. You could never stay mad at each other, and now you couldn't believe the man who was laughing at you and humiliating you was the same person.

"Steve, I think that's enough," Nat finally intervened, her voice calm yet firm.

"Is it really? I think baby y/n hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Steve retorted sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Steve. You can't speak to me like that. I'm not a kid. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have that one drive, and god knows how many people could have died. But you can't even realize that because I disobeyed ‘Captain America's orders,' and no one is allowed to disobey America's 'hero.' The only kid between us is you!” you shot back, your voice rising, though not as loud as Steve's had been.

“I'm a kid, y/n? Really? And what are you, a hero? Do you expect me to thank you now? Do you expect all of us to be on our knees thanking you?!" Steve challenged.

“That is not what I said!" you finally snapped.

The tension in the room escalated, and the team grew more uncomfortable by the second.

Steve smirked at your angered state.

“What's the matter, y/n? You seem a little bit defensive. I thought you liked being a hero. You know, because of the guilt, since you started killing and torturing people at the age of 8.”he said, still wearing the hurtful smirk on his face.

The whole team gasped, especially Natasha, whose story paralleled yours. You looked at Steve, unable to believe what he had just said.

“You seem shocked, Agent y/l/n. Oh, and Natasha, don't take this the wrong way. We all make mistakes in our life, but at least after we realize our mistakes, we try to make them up as soon as we can and not run away like a coward.” Steve continued, ignoring your reaction. You and Natasha widened your eyes, understanding what Steve was referring to."Steve..." Nat began, but Steve cut her off.

“I'm not done yet. Some of y'all look confused, well, let me explain it for you," Steve said, addressing the rest of the team.

"Steve, don't." you murmured, your voice weak now. You weren't even sure if anyone heard you, and you were right. No one heard you, but Steve who chose to ignore you.

“Our dear y/n y/l/n was a well-trained assassin back in the years with Natasha Romanoff in a place called the Red Room, which I'm sure you've heard about. Before even Natasha was out of there, Agent y/l/n found a way to leave the Red Room, a way to save every girl, from children to adults, who were mind-controlled into killing, and even worse. But do you know what she did instead?" he turned around the room, looking at everyone as if it was a show. No one said anything; they just kept looking between you and Steve. It was getting harder for you to focus on your breathing.

“Well, in case you haven't guessed yet, she just left everyone who could've been saved, even her best friend who is sitting right here with us.” he said, pointing at Nat.

“And even though she could've killed Dreykov, who was the leader by the way, with her genius plan, she didn't because she was a coward.” he said, emphasizing the word coward.

You've never felt so small and betrayed. You couldn’t believe he was using your awful past against you. When you confided in him, he comforted you, assuring you it wasn't your fault. That you’ve been through a lot and you took the only chance you had to save yourself. And now… now he was a different person.

“Cap that’s enough, it’s not our business what she did in the past. We all did something in some point that we aren’t proud of. She made up for that mistake many times now, since the battle of New York until today’s mission. I’m sure she still feels guilty and you’re just making it worse.” Tony looked at your trembling sight, standing up from his seat and walked towards Steve. The rest of the team nodding along, glad that Tony stood up for you because they were frozen themselves.

“Oh yeah Tony, you’re right I’m sure she feels guilty, don’t you y/l/n?” He looked at you as if you were a kid

Everything about him was hurting you right now. His voice tone that humiliated you in every way, his eyes that sent daggers to your way, his body that was intimidatingly towering yours, his smile which always made you happy and now it was only mocking you. Your throat is dry, your eyes are wet and you feel like your heart is going to come out of your chest in any second. You were hurt and unwell, and everyone could see that, everyone but Steve.

“Agent y/I/n do you feel guilty about your past?" He repeated his sarcastic question.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much since you have a good way to cope with your guilt right?" He continued.

You looked up at him frighteningly, understanding where he was going.

“Steve don't you dare." you whispered, finally being able to say something.

Everyone was confused since they had no idea what you both were talking about.

“you seem scared agent." Steve smirked at you sending shivers down your spine. It hurts so much more that he wasn't even using your name anymore, he felt like a stranger to you.

“SHUT UP!" you had never yelled so loud in your life, the whole jet shook. Everyone flinched but Steve. It seemed like he was waiting for this.

“Come on y/n are you that afraid of everyone knowing how you used to deal with your problems, or do you still do it?"

Everyone was quite once again, something in them wanted to know what Steve was talking about but they also didn't because of the way you reacted.

You looked at him not saying anything but your eyes were begging him to stop. You've never been in such a vulnerable position, especially considering everything you’ve been through.

“oh don't tell me you're gonna cut your wrists open again because you feel guilty you didn't get the second driver."

Everyone froze and widened their eyes, silence filling the jet. No one knew that you used to harm yourself until you started dating Steve, he was the first person to ever know. You felt so comfortable around him that you didn't want to have any untold secrets.

You thought about what if you guys break up but you convinced yourself that even if you guys separate your ways from each other at some point, you're definitely going to stay friends and he's never going to tell your secret to anyone because you believed he was a good man. You trusted him more than yourself and now he proved you all wrong.

You didn't cut anymore, because you found a way to save people. If it wasn't for Nick Fury, making you join the team you'd be long gone by now. But you didn't have a reason anymore, you were happy you had a new family and a new job, everything was perfect for you. Now you felt alone all over again and you didn't even blame Steve, you blamed yourself. You failed.

You started trembling more and started to see black spots. The team walked towards you to see if you were okay. Thor pushed Steve away, "Stay away from her," he warned, before walking to you. You heard Tony and Natasha yelling at Steve, Clint trying to calm them down but looking angry himself, Bruce and Thor asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was so loud, but you only heard annoying mumbles. You let out a sob before passing out in the strong arms of the god, the last thing you saw being Steve's worried eyes…

A/N: This was my first (published) fan fiction. I apologise for any writing and/or grammar mistakes considering that English isn’t my first language. Feel free to correct me! If you enjoyed this, please let me know and let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming posts! (This fic will make a twist;))