#dark steve x black!reader

[cece693]

We Belong Together (DARK! Steve Rogers x M! Reader)

Just something that came to mind and couldn't help but write it. Please tell me if you like this style of writing more or prefer my original one. Thanx for reading!

Summary: Dating Steve Rogers was more difficult than you'd imagined. He was a man riddled with insecurities and, unfortunately, this affected your relationship.

tags: dark Steve Rogers, manipulation, the Avengers are no help, toxic relationship, not Steve friendly, gaslighting, no happy ending and ambiguous ending

Your relationship with Steve was rocky, to say the least. And you know it sounded stupid because you're dating Captain America, the epitope of male perfection and respect, but you weren't dating him. You were dating Steve Rogers, the man who was always beaten to a pulp behind alleyways before the serum took over. The man who did everything to fit in, but was neglected due to his health problems and scrawny appearance. And in a way, you sympathized with Steve—he was still the boy seeking acceptance from everyone, and you, who he'd let into his heart after the whole Peggy fiasco, couldn't desert him. But there was a line between what you would label as love and obsession.

It would be fine if Steve wanted to spend each weekend lazing about in bed, arms wrapped around you, not wanting to let you even use the bathroom, but it was another story if he had your location turned on and was texting you hurtful messages implying infidelity. You'd let it pass one time, but when it became a routine, and Steve became more suffocating to be around, you realized you'd fucked up. No breakup was easy, but when you're doing it to Steve Rogers, a man who was known for his determination and unwillingness to change his mind, it would be near impossible.

With his job as a full-time Avenger, there was never a good time for you to sit down and talk to Steve. He was either tired or stressed, with the latter making you squeamish to even interact with. No Steve was pleasant to deal with, as of late, but a stressed Steve was walking into enemy ground. If the damage to the punching bags was any indication. However, it seems whatever God above favored you when your boyfriend announced he'd asked for a week off to spend it with you. His smile was genuine, but you noted the strange twinkle in his eyes when he casually noted that it would be your anniversary.

"Who knows what surprise I have in store for you." He said, but those words, said with so much innocence had you fretting. You hated to do it, but it seemed you'd be breaking up with him before his plan could come to fruition.

"Steve, about that..." You trailed off, looking away from him to gain courage, but found none. "I don't think we're working out. I want to break up." There, you said internally, just like ripping off a bandaid. You risked looking up at Steve and instantly regretted it. He had a look of silent fury and violence??? but then it washed over with indifference. You expected yelling, even begging, but silence stung more. "I'm sorry, but I..." How would you broach the topic of his toxicity without sounding like a total asshole?

"Is there someone else?" Steve interrupted, quite rudely. He tilted his head, mind racing with every person who'd ever interacted with you. Who had convoluted your mind into breaking up with him? If there was another man, Steve would make them regret their existence. Taking what wasn't theirs to begin with. "Is it Thomas? I knew he wasn't just a friend."

"No!" You shouted, hurt by the implication. Thomas was a co-worker who you befriended—he was like a brother to you, nothing more, nothing less. "This is part of the problem, Steve. You think I always cheat, making me feel stupid for overreacting to your jealousy when it's unhealthy as hell."

"But you always seem so close to everyone else." Your ex replied, his voice wavering between anger and insecurity. "How am I supposed to feel when I see you laughing and talking with Thomas like that?"

You shook your head, frustration boiling over. "How are you supposed to feel?! You're supposed to trust me, Steve! You're supposed to know that if I'm with you, it's because I chose you. But you keep pushing me away with all this suspicion. It's exhausting."

Steve clenched his fists, struggling to find the words. "I only act this way because I care about you, because I don't want to lose you. You know how much I love you. If I didn't care so much, I wouldn't be jealous." He knew it was a stupid reason, but Steve was desperate. He wouldn't lose you over something he had no control over. Didn't you know how handsome, pretty, and unique you truly were? Didn't you see the hungry stares people throw your way? It was Steve's duty as a boyfriend to show them you were taken; his completely.

"That's another thing, Steve! You alienating me from my friends and co-workers."

Steve's face twisted in frustration. "So, what? I should just sit back and let whomever get close to you?"

"I can't control everyone's actions, Steve! Don't try to guilt trip me into thinking your behavior is normal...it isn't. Your reaction just reaffirms my decision." Not wanting to face your ex any longer, you stood up from the table and headed to the door. After all, this was Steve's apartment, and as much as he tried to encourage you to move in, right now you were grateful you stood your ground. But not even before your hand touched the doorknob, Steve's whimpers sounded behind you.

Steve panicked seeing you near the door. You had to understand—he never meant to make you angry, he just loves you so much that perhaps his behavior did come off as overbearing. But this was for your own good, Steve thought, you were too naive, too trusting of people who would only take advantage of you. With tears in his eyes, Steve began to whimper and make himself look half his size. "I'm sorry. I'll change, I promise, but please don't leave me. I love you."

It irked Steve that you didn't face him, but when he saw you pause, his heart rejoiced. Just for it to quickly fall again when you did open the door and told him you couldn't do this anymore. Unable to do anything as you finally closed the door, leaving him alone, Steve's anger made an appearance. Grabbing the closest thing to him, he flung it to the wall and continued to do so until every single item in his living room lay in thousands of tiny little pieces.

You're acting irrationally, Steve told himself. You'll soon come to realize the grave mistake you are making. I'm the only one who could protect and love you. I'll give you space to calm down, and then, perhaps you can understand me.

A week had passed since you'd broken up with Steve, and the man wasn't taking the news well. He believed you would've crumbled and ran back into his arms once the day ended, but when you hadn't called, much less answered his messages, the man grew furious. How dare you block his number and change the locks on your door? Did you have a visitor over, taking advantage of his absence to fuck whomever you desired? Didn't he mean anything to you? The week's absence had made Steve spiral out of control.

The reasonable part of him told him to move on, respect your wishes, and cease contact, but this was you. You weren't replaceable to Steve, oh no, he would make you stand by his side until death do part. Didn't you see you guys were meant to be? It also probably didn't help that the Avengers took his side and began feeding into Steve's delusions.

"I don't get it, man. You treat him right and love him unconditionally. How could he break your heart?" Was Tony's response once he heard of your relationship status. "He's dumb to break things off. I can only hope my relationship with Pepper is as strong as yours." Yeah, Tony wasn't really a help in calming Steve down.

Meanwhile, you were picking up the pieces of your life. Reconnecting with friends Steve had frightened off and taking a much-needed vacation from New York. You couldn't escape Steve when he was a public image—Captain America basically ruled over New York and had a place in people's hearts.

Sitting down at the little cabin you rented for the month, you sipped on your coffee and rethought your plans. Initially, you wanted to just start anew in New York, forget about Steve, and continue living your life, but that was thrown out the window. You could sense eyes wherever you went after breaking things off with Steve, and you might be crazy for saying such a thing, but you knew Steve. Knew he would pull strings to keep in contact and have an eye on you.

It also wasn't unreasonable to make such a connection when Steve was the leader of the Avengers—a team of superheroes with varying skills and resources. So your original plan of staying turned into you seeking residence as far away from the U.S. as possible. Yet, when you believe you've found the perfect place, something gets in the way—your bank is unable to transfer funds, the listing immediately reads as sold, the realtor not answering your calls. Every hindrance only makes you come to the same conclusion—Steve.

Yelling when the mug shattered in your hand, hot coffee burning your skin, you realized you weren’t alone. The front door of the cabin was closed, but standing next to it was Steve. The nearby lamp cast a dim, flickering light over his figure, highlighting his state of disarray. His once clean-cut appearance was gone, replaced by stubble, messy hair, and a simple t-shirt with jeans that looked like they’d been slept in. "Get out." You hissed, but the man only stepped closer, frightening you. "Get out! I don't want anything to do with you."

"I tried to be nice, and give you space, but nothing works." Steve said, ignoring your wishes as he advanced toward you. For every step he took, you stepped back twice. You couldn't help but fear for your safety when Steve disregarded your wishes and had this glint of madness in his eyes. "I need you. Can't you see that?"

Your back hit the wall, trapping you as Steve loomed closer. You never took your eyes off him, every nerve in your body screaming for you to escape, but there was nowhere left to go. "Steve, please." you begged, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation. "You're scaring me. This isn't love."

Steve’s hand reached out, brushing against your cheek in a gesture that once might have been tender, but now only filled you with dread. "You’ll see, in time. You’ll remember how good we were together. You just need to stop fighting it."

Before you could react, Steve's hand shot out, gripping your chin with a force that made you wince. In a flash, he pulled you closer and crushed his lips against yours, his kiss bruising and possessive. You struggled against him, trying to push him away, but his arms were too strong, locking you in place as he held you tightly.

Your mind raced, panic surging through you as you fought to break free. This was not the man you once cared for; this was someone consumed by a twisted obsession, willing to do anything to keep you. Tears welled in your eyes as you clawed at his arms, desperate for air, desperate to escape.

[syntheticavenger]

Fire We Make - Two

Where, oh where, is this muse coming from?

Previous

Warnings: 18+ ONLY - language, PTSD, manipulation, mentions of stalking/tracking, mentions of past drugging, brief mention of a pregnancy test but that's about it. I've dropped quite a few Easter eggs in here to lead up to the next chapter.

Word Count: 3.2K

Soft Dark Nomad! Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary | Separating from your husband is harder than you realize, despite warnings from your therapist that you need to give yourself closure and keep your distance.

The paper cup filled with coffee warms your hands, hovering near the assortment of cookies, finger sandwiches and chips. 

Your rain boots squeak lightly under the linoleum, watching others come in and embrace, some heading straight for the table as they load up their plates with food. You know that for some, this is the most food they’ll have today – maybe even this week – and you feel a twinge of guilt for even helping yourself to a cup of coffee.

“Hey.”

Sam Wilson stands behind you, cautiously looking at your face. It’s an embrace that you’ve needed, fighting back the tears as he holds you close. You’d had your line drawn in the sand once Steve had retired, no more Christmas cards mailed by Tony Stark or Rhodey. An invisible upheld law that you swore your allegiance to Steve, even if you had wanted to bring them back together to talk, to smooth over the past.

They’d done that for you.

Sam has been your only lifeline to that world that you barely saw, shielded from it much from Steve, who didn’t want to talk about work, especially when he would repeatedly tell you that you were the only place he would call home.

Home, he would tell you, meant that he didn’t want to scar you with the things he had seen and done. Shutting you out intentionally from that world meant that you had to talk with Sam to understand how to bridge that gap.

At your sigh of relief at his handsome face, he opens his arms to you, hugging you tight as he knew that was exactly what you needed.

“I know,” he affirms, so simple and yet poignant that it makes you squeeze your eyes shut to keep from crying.

When he pulls away, he looks around at the people milling behind you.

“This was a drive for you, right?”

He’s right.

Usually his VA meetings are in the city but you’ve been able to track down when he goes to the more rural areas, places where veterans are forgotten and assistance has faded away over time. Sam doesn’t speak about the Sokovia Accords, nor does he grant any interviews now that he’s firmly told reporters that he wants to be left alone. Rumors of Steve giving him the shield were true, one hanging up in his home that he sometime looked on with pride when you and Steve would visit.

For now, he seems at peace.

“A little bit of a drive,” you admit. “I guess I just… needed to see a friendly face.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Not for a week.”

Sam gives a low whistle, nodding his head. He had been the first person to approach Steve about his issues. For a time, Steve had been attending the meetings – sometime with you and sometimes without you – or so he told you.

“He stopped coming,” Sam informs you. “I guess I thought you’d been able to get him some more professional help.”

“He didn’t like the doctors,” you answer quickly, your brow furrowing at his first comment. “When did he stop coming?”

“About a month ago. He stuck around after a meeting, told me he felt like you and him were in a better place and that he felt that he could move on. I just assumed that you were both figuring things out.”

“I moved out.”

“I know. He told me. Last time I saw him, he mentioned that he was going to remodel the house. Something about keeping himself busy.”

You frown at the news.

“He didn’t mention that to me.”

Sam shoots you a careful look, eyebrow raising as he asks his next question.

“Are you okay?” he asks carefully.

“That’s a loaded question.”

“It may need a loaded answer. Steve isn’t okay. I know that,” Sam confides in you quietly. “He hasn’t been himself since all of this went down. I know he takes his hits and he moves on but this isn’t like anything I’ve seen. It’s obsessive behavior. That’s not healthy. Do you have people who are looking out for you?”

“My family. Friends.”

“You know you’re always welcome here. I mean that,” Sam emphasizes. “But I want you to be careful, okay?”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“He’s always been obsessed with you. He loves you. More than anything else in this world. But obsession is never a good thing.”

“That’s why we took a break,” you admit, looking down at your cup. “I… I can’t help him in the way he needs.”

“It’s like those airplane safety videos. Put your own mask on before you help others. I know you love him but right now, you need to love him at a safe distance. I’m not trying to scare you, I just know that you two have been together for a while and Steve can be a charming bastard. But I didn’t like what I saw that last month and I didn’t like the idea of him remodeling a house for both of you to live in. He didn’t even mention it to you.”

A chill takes over slightly, making you sip your coffee before you nod.

“I promise. I’ll take care of myself first.”

-

Mona turns up the volume on the TV, the news reporter standing in a wooded area.

“The man has zero recollection of how he found himself in the forest, let alone the last two days. Authorities are still investigating but it is believed the man had been drugged but he is expected to make a full recovery. More to come on this breaking story.”

Mona turns the TV off, making a face as she hands you a glass of wine.

“This world is shitty. I hope he’s turns out okay. Can’t even go have a drink anymore,” Mona sighs. “No more news for me, that shit was depressing. How about we order take out for dinner? What are you in the mood for?”

“I don’t know. My brain is all over the place.

“I can look. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Mona places her glass of wine down, her expression changing for a moment when she clears her throat.

“Look, I need to ask this and I know it’s going to sound crazy but I need you to hear me out, okay?” she warns gently. “It’s been bothering me for a while.”

“What?”

You’re confused, unsure of why this conversation has shifted so suddenly.

“The other night I tried to call you and it kept going to voicemail. I know you told me you were tired but you haven’t been sleeping lately.”

“When?”

“A week or so ago. You told me Steve had been trying to see you and then you didn’t answer your phone and I got worried. I know I saw your text that you were going to bed but…” Mona sighs, shaking her head. “I know it seems weird but the text didn’t even seem like you. You usually call me when you’re awake to let me know you’re alright.”

“I was just tired.”

You repeat the words mentally in your head, trying to remember the night that Steve had shown up at your apartment. You remember eating, Steve talking to you about trying to get back together. You don’t remember texting her, Mona’s hand reaching out to touch yours as your memories get fuzzy from that night.

“Was he with you that night?” Mona asks, a lump forming in your throat.

“For a little,” you confirm, Mona’s mouth tightening at your words.

“Do you remember anything from that night? Texting me back to say you were tired? You didn’t sound like yourself”

“I was tired, Mona, I -”

Mona grips your hand tight.

“I know your texting style. That wasn’t you. And the fact you can’t remember anything else about that night?”

“I told you, I was really tired.”

Mona doesn’t let go of your hand when you try to reach for your phone, to try to get some confirmation that you aren’t blacking out at your memory.

“I need you to listen to me. I think he drugged you.”

-

Your boss doesn’t bat an eye when she grants you a two-week personal leave. She’s been engrossed in the news, a recipient of a Stark grant and she’s been waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. The personal leave, she had told you with a sympathetic nod, is the first step in getting a divorce once you have a clear head.

You don’t have the strength to talk to Mona, to tell her that the test she had pressed you to take is negative.

You’ve cancelled your session with Doctor Maren, rescheduling for next week so that you don’t get a phone call. As it turns out, it isn’t just your friends who are worried about you. Court appointed therapy is a precaution, as you were told when you’d filed. Monitored to make sure you complied.

Dialing Sam’s number, you wait for him to pick up, which he does on the second ring.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” you respond, tears filling your eyes almost too quickly at his question. “I think… I don’t know… I -”

“Are you home? I can come to you or we can meet somewhere.”

“I’m not home,” you rush out. “I’m… I’m a hotel. I just… I can’t be there.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“I can meet you at the VA.”

“Sounds good, I’ll make sure you’re on the list.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

-

Steve pulls down his baseball cap, ignoring the woman standing next to him in the aisle, her overt bending making him look in the other direction. His cart is nearly full, stopping to look at the various colors of paint. The new room he is working on needs a lighter color of paint than he first thought, picking up two swatches as the woman clears her throat.

“That’s a pretty color.”

“It is,” Steve agrees, looking between both of them.

Your favorite colors have always been green or blue, various shades in between. The woman looks over, giving him a smile.

“I like the green,” she announces. “Very earthy.”

He notices her eyes settle on his wedding ring, her smile fading for a moment.

“Lucky woman,” she says with a nod in his direction. “Does she have a favorite color?”

“She does. It’s blue.”

“I’d go with blue then.”

He stops for a moment, grabbing the bucket of paint and placing it into his cart. The woman watches him carefully, as if trying to figure out where she’s seen him from before.

For a moment, he entertains the thought of her possibly being at the club that you had visited, wondering if she could place his face. Steve knows this is out of the question. He’d been the only one there to take him out.

He’s seen the news. It’s a pity that the man survived but Steve knows it was by pure luck.

Still, the idea makes him wonder what she’s thinking. He thought he would have gotten tired of the beard but it affords him the anonymity that he didn’t know he needed. It had taken some getting used to, especially the way you had first looked at him when you’d seen him when he’d landed from Wakanda. Clean shaven was now a thing of the past, gone with the hopes and dreams that he would be back to the man he used to be.

“Well, you have a nice day,” she calls out, admittedly defeated that he isn’t going to be baited.

“You too.”

He notices how short her skirt is, watching her turn toward another aisle. A woman on the prowl, looking for her next paramour. He knows you would never be like, stalking down the aisles of home improvement stores, batting your eyelashes at random men. Your loyalty is one of the reasons he was drawn to you, how trusting you were and devoted.

He looks down at the supplies in his cart, eyeing the various rolls of masking tape, zip ties and other things inside, including the thick pieces of lumber that he still has to pick up. 

By the time he gets to the registers, he’s already mapped out his plans for the next few days. He’s been back on a cleaner routine, working out in the early hours of the morning and late at a night when he isn’t working tediously on the house.

He smiles to the cashier, paying in cash as she returns it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Captain America?” she asks, handing him his receipt.

“You’re the first one. You have a good day.”

-

“What happened to Bucky?”

“Deprogramming in Wakanda. Steve took him there himself and when he came back… he was a different person. Made sense. You thought your best friend was dead for decades and he’s brainwashed. That would mess anyone up.”

“And Tony?”

“I wasn’t there,” Sam sighs, straightening up in his chair. “I just know the fight was brutal. I saw videos.”

“I know,” you respond quietly. “I saw them. He doesn’t know that.”

In Sam’s office, it’s a safe space, his degrees and certificates hanging on the walls, pictures in glass frames of his travels around the world.

Him, Bucky and Steve at your wedding.

“Do you ever reach out to Tony?”

“No,” you deny quickly. “Pepper sent me a letter once. Handwritten. She said she missed him. Missed us.”

“Did you ever answer?”

“No,” you swallow. “Steve found it. He wasn’t ready to respond.”

“But it was addressed to you,” Sam points out. “Did he tell you he didn’t want you to answer?”

“I called her. She didn’t answer and then texted me that Tony was around.”

Sam swears under his breath, a look of disgust on his face.

“You’re collateral damage.”

You try to shrug, the loneliness creeping up again. Chewing on a slice of pizza, your thoughts go to Mona and how you had promised that you would tell someone. You still haven’t told Sam why you’re there, the need to admit why you’re occupying a seat in his office rising like bile in your throat.

“When I saw Steve last week, I let him inside my apartment to talk.”

Sam’s head tilts at your admission.

“Go on.”

“He was still trying to get me to change my mind on the separation but.” Pausing, you aren’t sure if you can form the words. It doesn’t feel right, like you’re about to drown.

“What happened?”

“We were eating and I woke up the next morning. I don’t… I don’t remember what happened after we talked.”

Sam goes still, knowing he’s trying to process what you’ve just told him.

“He drugged you.”

“I don’t know,” you reply, Sam shaking his head. “Sam, I -”

“Did you report it?”

“No,” you answer quickly. “I can’t report him, are you kidding, he -”

“Drugged you. Did you get checked out?”

“Sam, nothing happened. I took a pregnancy test, it was negative. I was in the clothes I had gone to work in, no sign of a condom, no sign of anything. I just… slept.”

“As far as you know.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t what? Not get consent while you’re asleep? You’re right, that doesn’t sound like Steve. But the drugging doesn’t sound like him either and here we are, talking about it.”

Silence falls, Sam muttering to himself before he stands.

“Obsessive behavior,” he says to you. “Is that why you didn’t want to stay in your apartment? Does he come there often?”

“I haven’t seen him since I told you. Sam, I just need guidance. He’s hurt and he won’t listen to me. If he did… drug me… I can’t be alone with him.”

“He needs to be taken in.”

You shake your head sadly.

“He wouldn’t spend but a few hours there. And he doesn’t need to be thrown into a jail cell, he needs help.”

“That help can’t come from you.”

“I know.”

“Let me talk to him,” Sam offers. “I can get him into treatment, we can plan this out.”

“He won’t listen.”

“It’s that or jail,” Sam reminds you. “Do you understand the severity of what you just told me?”

“It was to help me sleep.”

“You can’t keep making excuses for his behavior. So, let’s say he was trying to help you out. Did you ask to be drugged? To be placed into bed?”

At your silence, Sam shakes his head.

“I’ll make sure you have an escort back to your hotel. But you have to promise me, and I mean promise me, that you won’t contact him or entertain the thought of contacting him until he gets help.”

You nod in response.

“I promise.”

-

It’s late when you get back, Sam’s right hand, Joaquin walking you to your hotel room, waiting for you to get inside.

Overly tired, you head into the bathroom to take a shower, stripping off your clothes and stepping inside, the hot water beating against your skin.

Stepping out and wrapping towel around your body and one around your hair, examining your face in the mirror gives you pause, noticing your sad expression. You force yourself to smile, touching the apples of your cheeks before you sigh, brushing your teeth in defeat. For that minuscule moment, you almost felt like yourself, finishing up your bedtime routine and slipping into a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt.

Stopping in your tracks, a bouquet catches your attention on the table. It’s red roses, beautifully tied together with a blue bow.

You hadn’t heard anyone come in, let alone the open and close of the door. Inching closer, you pick up the card, reading what it says in a typed font.

I miss you.

Swallowing hard, you’re unsure of what to say or do, taking a step back to look around the room. It’s comfortably quiet, even as you open the closets and look under the bed.

Calling the front desk, you hope that it was a mistake, getting ready to give them a piece of your mind about a flower delivery that was not authorized. For a moment, you relax. It’s probably for the wrong room and a mistake can still be fixed. You’ll double bolt your door tonight and check out and get another hotel.

“Hello?” you greet the front desk when a friendly voice comes on the line. “I’m in Room 476. I was in the shower when flowers were delivered and I had the do not disturb sign on.”

“Oh no,” the voice says, dismayed. “I am so sorry, let me look it up. I apologize, that is unacceptable.”

You can hear the sound of keys on the keyboard being punched, the line going quiet.

“I’m so sorry but it doesn’t appear that there were any flower deliveries in our system today. I’m going to send up our manager and security to address this with you if that is alright.”

“Yes. Please.”

When you hang up, you go back to the flowers, noticing the blue ribbon.

It’s in your favorite color.

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Hallows' Eve

Masterlist

Original Posting: 02 Oct 2020

MCU/DC Cross-over AU

Pairing: dark!Bucky Barnes, dark!Steve Rogers, dark!Clark Kent x Black Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, creampie, spanking, dirty talk, daddy kink, assault, non-consensual sex. Proceed with caution!

@mcudarklibrary​ entry for Dark MCU Kinktober

A/N: Ahh shoutout to my bff @titty-teetee​ for indulging me with this idea lol. I love ya >:D

October 30th, middle of somewhere, Texas.

Well, there was a house-- rickety as it was, the home stood in a clump of mesquite trees, accented with tufts of Johnsongrass, springing up through the cracks of the stone walkway and leaning against the stairs to the front porch. It had never looked darker than this night had. But even so, the jagged wood roof  rose high to a second story, long windows looked like eyes with the small front door for a mouth. A steady breeze moved through the trees, shaking and whishing the long thin branches, slicing through the air. The whispering of nature speaks to you, like God to man, invoking what has been and what was to come. An unexpected thin place perhaps, the house, having not been filled for quite some time looked like it could have been haunted. Maybe a part of you wished it was. Like the walls and foundation had the ability to make up its own people within, or remembered who once lived there. 

Bucky’s fingers nudged your lower back as you walked alongside him. The duffle bags zipper clinked against the fabric and you were suddenly aware of how quiet it was out here. The crisp autumn air, slowly contorted to that spikey chill of early winter lingered on your skin. So you walked closer to him for some quick warmth. 

“They should be--” said Bucky, lights glowed up from the dirt road. The paleness glowed over both you and Bucky, the house, the dormant land. “There they are.” he said pausing for a moment and then continued once again.

“You had to pick the spookiest spot huh?” you said under your breath. 

He shrugged as he stomped up the stairs. “I was here yesterday, I got it ready. It’s a perfect spot for a quick get away.”

“But did you have to invite company? I was looking forward to it just being you and me.”

Bucky rummaged for the keys in his pocket as a couple of car doors slammed behind you. 

“‘Come on babe, Steve doesn’t have anywhere to go really.”

“I’ll start the fire!” shouted Steve. 

You didn’t turn around, your eyes stayed on the shadows of Bucky’s face where his eyes should have been. 

“Okay, I get that. But what about the other guy? What did you say his name was? How do you know him?”

Bucky jabbed the key with the lock, he chuckled a bit before answering. “Clark Kent, his name is Clark.”

“So you’re picking up strays now?” 

“Get to know him, you’ll like him. He's a great guy, hardly a stray...”

You followed Bucky into the house slowly, he flicked on the switch flooding the living room with light. Okay, you thought, doesn’t look so bad. At least the furnishing appeared to be from within the last ten years, the walls looked newish, with sharp borders, and reasonably decorated. 

“Besides, I picked you up, remember?”

You dropped your bag flat on the ground. “Hey, now. Are you trying not to get lucky while we stay here?”

Bucky continued into the house with the grocery bags. “I’ll get lucky regardless.” he cut his eyes over his shoulder back toward you. It sent another chill, this time up your inner thighs. He wasn’t lying.

“Oh god, not that stupid-”

Bucky ducked in close, the flimsy plastic mask buckled under the pressure of nuzzling your neck. You gazed into the bathroom mirror at Bucky who’s rubber Michael Myers mask was staring lifelessly back.

“I know you wanted to try something different….but….”

His hands kneaded your sides, higher he climbed over your sweater to your breasts.

“You look ridiculous…”

One hand left your nipple and began tugging at the top of your leggings.

“Shh…” he tried to stifle a laugh. “..just go with it..”

And you did, by leaning your head back against the blue denim jacket as his fingers wondered underneath your underwear.

“..let daddy have a feel.” his breathy question muffled through the mask. Slowly he began to circle your clit, mouth hanging open your hand held the top of his black gloved hand and pushed him to press harder.

“Look at yourself...how needy you get.” he whispered.

You try to peer beyond the mask, the slits for eyes but there was nothing. Only darkness met you there. Bucky brought up his hand, held it in front of the mirror and you. He split his fingers, thick wetness strung between them like webs.

“Bend over-- hold on to the sink.” he ordered, with his hands disappearing behind you. The sound of his clothes ruffling you stared back at the mirror.

Bucky stepped forward, knocking your ankles apart with his shiny black boots and yanked your pants, underwear down and gently, he tipped into you. His long length traveled against your folds sinking further inside.

Ghostly scenes are made from the smoke casting up from the flickering fire being fed from lava colored coals. The metal chair underneath you feels cool on your bottom, because even though you are sitting on a blanket the cold night air hangs around you. 

Steve was ending his story. Though hardly a spooky tale, it didn’t have to be, for his tales were based on true events. Speaking of blood and gore the morbid tone grew in his voice and brought a shadow of delight in his eyes. You carefully watched him, observed his hunched over shoulders, his eyes turned to yours sometimes while he spoke but mostly stayed on the fire. 

You chugged from the bottle of hard cider as Bucky ate, that stupid mask was pulled up over his brows. But Clark Kent, this stranger, sat nearly directly opposite. You moved your eyes to him ever so often while Steve told his story. One of the two thought about food on the way here, chicken, you guessed was their craving. Clark leaned back, his black jacket bunched at his waist as he rose a hand to his mouth. The crunch of the crust of fried meat did not break Steve’s momentum. 

When he finished, Bucky nodded to the accuracy of the amount of soldiers, to why the only man left was brave and courageous. Clark’s eyes met yours over the flames, his skin pale, the wavy dark curls framed his face. He smiled at you as he chewed. You noticed it then, unsure why you wouldn’t have before, he held the grey cooked bone between his fingers and stuck the end in his mouth. You blinked, maybe you were seeing things -- this was your sixth cider for the night.

“Are you eating the bones?” you asked.

Clark continued to gnaw on it till it broke off in his mouth. “Waste not want not,” he said through a mouthful.

He continued to stare back at you and at the same time a chill coursed its way down your spine. Shivering in the gentle breeze the urge to go to the bathroom shot through you. 

“I’ll be right back,” and excused yourself from the fire.

Had to be a bit past ten p.m., though this was supposed to be a pleasant fall break, it didn’t truly feel that way. Not with two extra guests. You tried to not feel so desperate to be alone with Bucky. You finished washing your hands and opened the bathroom door. In the dark, lit up by the light of the bathroom a figure stood. You jumped so hard, grasping at your sweater, bent over grabbing your waist, the boogeyman mask simply stared back at you without moving.

“Bucky I swear to -- why would you? -- take that stupid thing off-” and you reached for the mask but his hand grabbed your wrist. Slowly he walked over the threshold, leaned over and flicked off the light. 

“Oh no!” you feigned a plea. “Seriously..--help..help.” you giggled through another.

The door slammed behind him trapping the dark inside. He pulled you close at first, residing to his strength, you let him touch, grab, pluck at your body. Backing you back up against the sink the rubber mask pushed against your neck, smiling in the dark you could hear him attempting to kiss you there. 

His hands ran around the waist of your leggings, one big hand gripped and caressed your ass, slipped toward your split and rubbed your asshole. You jumped again, this time wrapping your arms around his neck. Different, he had never done such a thing before, but you went with it. 

His finger crawled passed it, his other hand pushed down the front of your legging and circled your clit. 

“..help...a big bad man...help..” you chuckled under a moan. 

He jerked you away suddenly, pulled down your leggings and underwear, with a hand on your shoulder he forced you to bend over. The room filled with the sound of a smack to your back side. 

“Bucky!” 

The stinging lingered but white hot pain replaced it with another hit from his gloved hand. 

“Okay!” you rushed out. Maybe he was just being kinky, perhaps your pretending might have put him out of the mood. 

He hit you again making you grip the lip of the sink harder. “I’m sorry daddy..” you hissed.

He was back behind you again, his whole body pressed against you, scratching at the skin of your ass he plunged two thick fingers into your entrance.  Heavy breathing billowed from under the mask, hot air pooled over your shoulder and around the back of your neck. The weight of him bent you forward. He pulled out his fingers from within you and began to prod with something warmer, and far thicker at your slit as his other hand tangled with your fingers on the sink. 

And he pushed in, “..damn!” you moaned.

Jerky, irregular thrusts stretched you more than what you remembered. “Bucky!” you gasped, hoping he would slow the pace. But the other hand grabbed for your throat, squeezed tight and pumped you harder. 

“Daddy, please..” you half begged, half needingly whimpered. 

That changed his stroke, and soon the ache descended into bliss. 

“Fuck...daddy…”

His hand on yours returned to your clit, pushing hard and swiping steadily, your knees nearly buckled. Thicker for sure, veiny too, you thought, god what the loss of one sensory can do on a drunk mind. Your body bucked back against him as you rode out the orgasm. He squeezed harder, hissing and groaning under the mask you could nearly imagine him as someone else. And when he stilled inside of you, even his hiccups of pleasure could be thought of another. You shook the fantasy away as he stepped back. 

Before you could even turn around, the door opened, your eyes shot to his brown boots and then up to his back. And he left you there.

You stuffed pieces of a premade popcorn ball into your mouth. Bucky sat there weaving a tale of spirits walking through walls, of ancient gods embedded into objects best left to rest where they laid. Still buzzing hard you stayed captivated by his tone. It was something about the secretive way his voice projected that kept you staring at him, wondering if it could be true, but knew it mustn’t. 

It was still cool out, the shabby blanket thrown over your sore legs did little to keep the wind out. But it made for a good catcher, which is what you were doing toward the end of his story. Picking up pieces of fallen popcorn, and pizza flavored chip crumbs somehow made it to your mouth despite the only source of light was a waning fire.

“So if you ever hear your name called..don’t ever answer back, unless you can see it’s a actually living person.” Bucky finished and glanced over at you proudly.

“I hate that story.” you slurred your words a bit and shook out the blanket on your lap. “I hope you’re happy, you have to walk me everywhere until we return home.”

You picked up the last bottle off the ground and drank the last bit. The clash of flavors swirled on your tongue leaving a bitter after taste.

“Babe do you have any gum?”

“There’s a pack in the middle console--” Steve spoke up. “Back there in the truck..” he said hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes over in Steve’s direction. A smug grin, and a wrinkle on the side of one eye simply gazed back at you. 

“You’re fine,” he said finally. “You’ve got us here...nothings gunna get you.” he reminded smoothly.

And the moment was quiet, poised on the end of the gentle breeze blowing through the heat of the fire. The rustle of sleeping honeysuckle vines, somewhere near the old rotted out shack Steve’s truck sat was the only identifiable sound for a few seconds. 

“Fine.” you huffed and stood up to get that gum.

You walked down the dirt path the short way from the front of the house where Bucky, Steve and Clark sat. The tin roofing of the old shed rocked, and slapped against itself the closer you got. And of course Steve parked on the other side, out of the sight of the house and fire. But you walked quickly, or rather, as fast as two aching legs could in the cool weather. 

The knocking sound only got heavier, louder as you squinted in the dark toward the blackest corner of the area. Steve’s truck was within a few footsteps and you batted away any imaginings of spooky phantoms. You slipped passed the door, your hand flipped up the middle console and snagged up the pack of gum before slamming the door back. And when you turned around, just off from where you had previously walked was a figure. The white, deathly pale mask was the only part you could really see.

“Fuck!” you shouted, dropping the pack of gum. “Bucky!” you hissed and reached back down to retrieve it. 

The yellow fire light was at his back when he moved forward toward you. 

“Okay...no more mask!”

You stuffed the gum under your arms and went to yank at the mask. But he caught your arm and squeezed down like a vice grip. “Hey--easy there..” you said quietly. 

He pulled you toward the shed, but just outside of it, along the rotten wall of it a few old deep freezers were lined up against it collecting weeds, and dust. 

“Oh no, Bucky..those look super dirty..” you tried to jerk your arm away but he only pulled you harder. “...Really? You’re this committed to fucking in that mask?”

This time your hand grabbed enough of the back of the mask to rip it fully up over his head. At that same moment you were jerked forward between the rusty freezer and him. Your eyes now bulging and fighting for light to correct what you were seeing in the dark stared up at him. You blinked several times once more before you realized the angular features did not belong to Bucky. Thick curly hair, messy all over haloed around his face, and of course, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t noticed before, he was taller. It was Clark.

You made to quickly move away from him but he snapped you back, “Get off me!” Your voice shook, and so did your body. 

“Bucky’s right over there...all I have to do is scr--”

The air whipped out of your lungs so fast as Clark slammed his palm over your mouth and rushed your back down on to the freezer. 

“I’ve been waiting all night for this..” he whispered.

No amount of squirming could equal the might Clark welding against your struggling. It was like a man made of iron held you down, even when his other hand disappeared between your legs, the tearing of your legging, your underwear did not loosen his hold. And then the unfolding of his clothes paired with the gentle brushing of the vines against wood near your head sent you into hysterical kicking. Your legs on either side of him squeezed, and jerked to no avail. 

“-don’t act so innocent. You’ve already fucked two different men tonight.”

You stopped kicking, eyes wide above his hand you glowered at him through the dark. “You won’t mind..will you?”

Shaking your head you held your breath. The thick end of his cock began to push past your folds. 

“Slut.” 

He lowered his forehead on to yours, what you imagined was him staring back down at you but could see only the tip of his nose. A shuddering breath pulled through your nose as he sank further to his balls. “You’re wet from it still…”

He started snapping into you, hard and fast, slapping his lust into your unwilling cunt. Clark’s hand slipped to your chin, his lips hovering above yours. 

“Are you going to call me daddy too?” he asked, with his breath steadily huffing into your mouth. “..Say it for me baby..” 

“Let me hear that little desperate voice..” He kissed you, slipping his tongue along the inside of your lower lip and then against your face as you turned your head. “Come on..” And then he started jabbing, a feral thumping into you. Sharp pains up your thighs shot further into your core. You denied him and he lowered his head to your neck. He sucked on your skin, flicked his tongue around and inside your ear. “Say it,” he whispered. 

You whimpered in response as his teeth began to snag on the wet skin of your neck. He sucked hard, drawing out needle points of pain. 

You pray to god Bucky could hear this, you’ve been gone too long certainly either Steve or him could. Clark kept nibbling, and groaning in between thrusts. When you refused once again he shoved his palm back over your mouth, the other brought your wrist up and twisted it into a bone breaking angle. 

He stopped moving inside of you as his deep voice raked over clenched teeth, “What was that?” he asked. The warm palm slid down to your chin. 

“..daddy.” you shivered out.

You could hear the satisfied smile in his voice. “Good..girl.” he whispered. 

“That wasn’t so hard to say was it babe?”

The sound of Bucky’s voice from the darkest, most grown up side of the shed sent your eyes reeling in the dark. Clark put his hand back over your mouth and kept going. 

Bucky stood at the edge of the freezer, in the dark the features of his face were smudged. A gentle hand caressed the top of your forehead. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let Clark finish.”

At Bucky’s words, Clark released your mouth, he rose up and held your upper arms down as he continued to fuck you roughly. Your eyes stayed on Bucky’s silhouette, high pitch whimpering up at him did not go unheard. 

Bucky cupped your chin and head. “Shush,” he hushed down your sobbing face. 

Another pair of hands tore at the front of your sweater. To his right, another figure stepped to your side. The figures loomed over you while your breasts chilled, and peaked in the cool night air. A deft hot hand kneaded and groped at the nearest one. 

“You told us she was good….” Steve pinched your nipple hard. “She’s fucking outstanding.”

Bucky leaned over you, he grabbed for your thigh but you kicked away. Clark relinquished some leverage to pull your thigh up so Bucky could hold your ankle. “Yeah, get in there good.” Bucky’s voice rose above your strangled cries. Steve got your other leg, held it folded it in high and tight, that allowed Clark to pound you deeper. 

He grinded his hips into yours burning his stiff cock into your core. His grip tightened around your arms pinning you for good below him. “Where am I going to empty my balls?” Clark demanded on a puff of air. 

Tears slid down the corners of your eyes. They rolled from the darken outlines of Bucky above you to Steve at his side and then back to the man between your legs. 

“..in me.” you sniffled out. 

“And who are we--” Bucky asked softly. 

You didn’t bother to look in the direction of his voice, Clark’s head threw back, a deep moan started in his chest as his hips kept pumping. “Say it baby..” Clark whispered.

“..daddy.” you whimpered.

[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;))

[p3sephone]

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to break up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[blac-ivy]

Credit @reyenii on tiktok

Where y'all at?

[golden-ariess]

To The Moon & Back

Pairing: Stalker!Artist Steve

Warnings: Stalking, Manipulation 18+

His Muse Masterlist

| A/N: Surprise, surprise. I had inspiration for the first time in nearly two years. I hope y'all enjoy this ✨

-

You read the message again, each word feeling like it was scraping against your skin. How could the person you once loved so deeply become the one you feared most? It didn’t seem possible. You had thought, once, that your love was invincible, that it could weather anything. But Steve’s darkness was something you never anticipated, something that grew in the shadows of his mind until it took over everything else.

You folded the note in half, then again, and tucked it into the side pocket of your bag. You told yourself you’d throw it away later, but a part of you knew you wouldn’t. Even now, when you felt nothing but dread at the thought of him, the memory of who he used to be still clung to you, haunting like a ghost you couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just the notes, or the roses, or even the sketches—each one more haunting than the last. It was the feeling that he was always there, watching from the distance, just out of sight. You’d feel the prickling of eyes on your back as you walked through the parking lot at night, or the faint rustling of leaves outside your window when you knew no one should be there.

But the worst were the dreams. Dreams where his face would change, morphing into something unrecognizable—twisted, desperate. He’d reach for you, and you’d wake up gasping, sheets tangled around your legs as you fought to break free from the memory.

Once, you had believed in soulmates. Now, you were just trying to find a way to break the ties that bound you to him.

The police had told you that there wasn’t enough evidence to issue a restraining order. The flowers, the notes—none of it was explicitly threatening. “He’s just trying to get your attention,” they’d said. But they didn’t understand the fear that twisted inside you, the sense that each day brought him closer to crossing a line you couldn’t come back from.

You forced yourself to stand, trying to shake the unease that had settled deep in your bones. You had a life to live, a life that no longer included him. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over your apartment, and you decided it was time to draw the curtains, close the door, and block out the past.

But as you pulled the blinds shut, you caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye—just a flash, a movement on the sidewalk. Your breath hitched, your hands froze on the fabric. You peered through the slats, your heart hammering. Was it him, watching again? Or was it just your imagination, playing tricks on you?

You told yourself to let it go. You shut the blinds tight, locked the door, and turned on every light in the apartment. But even then, the shadows seemed to press in, whispering that he was still out there, waiting.

And somewhere deep inside, you knew that the storm wasn’t over yet.

Night settled in, and the apartment felt smaller, the walls closing in as you paced from room to room, checking the locks and glancing at the windows for any sign of movement. You told yourself it was just nerves. It had to be. You couldn’t let him control your life like this, not when you’d fought so hard to get away.

You had left everything behind changed your number, moved to a new city, even deleted your social media accounts. You told yourself that a fresh start was all you needed. But Steve was a shadow that clung to you, no matter how far you ran.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, and you jumped, your heart leaping to your throat. You grabbed it, hands shaking. It was only a text from Rachel, your best friend and the one person who had stood by you when everything with Steve fell apart. She’d always been the voice of reason, the one to remind you of who you were before him.

"Hey, how’s everything? You good?"

You wanted to lie, to say that everything was fine and you were settling in perfectly. But Rachel knew you too well.

"Just another night, I guess. I thought I saw him again. I’m probably overreacting."

She replied almost instantly.

"You know you’re not. He’s dangerous, and he’s obsessed. Just stay safe, okay?"

You typed out a quick response, feeling the familiar ache of longing for a time when things were simple, when you didn’t have to think about locking your doors or feeling your stomach twist every time your phone buzzed. Rachel was right; you couldn’t let your guard down. But the weight of it all felt heavier than ever.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence of the room. You tried to distract yourself, turning on the TV, scrolling through channels until you settled on an old sitcom—one you’d watched a million times before, back when laughter came easy and life felt normal. The familiar characters played out their scripted lives, oblivious to the messiness of the real world.

You lost yourself in it for a while, the laughter and the bright colors a brief reprieve. But when you reached for your glass of water, you noticed your hands were still shaking. The fear sat there, right under your skin, and no amount of sitcoms or bright lights could chase it away.

Then, there was a noise. It was soft—just a slight scraping sound, barely audible over the TV. You paused, holding your breath, the room suddenly too quiet. There it was again, like metal against metal. You strained to listen, every nerve in your body on edge.

It was coming from the door.

You felt the cold rush of fear, your body going rigid. You knew better than to ignore it. Slowly, you crept toward the door, your footsteps silent on the carpet. The peephole felt too small, like it couldn’t possibly show you the truth of what lay beyond. You hesitated, hand hovering just above the doorknob.

The scraping stopped.

And then, there was a knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps. Each one sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Your mind raced, a thousand thoughts crashing together. Was it him? Could he really have found you?

“Hello?” you called out, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would invite something in. No answer. Just silence, heavy and pressing.

You pressed your eye to the peephole, holding your breath. At first, you saw nothing but darkness—just the dim glow of the hallway light. Then, slowly, a figure came into view. A man, standing still, his face obscured by shadows. You couldn’t make out any details, but you knew.

It was him.

Panic surged through you, and you stumbled back, heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst. Your mind screamed at you to call someone—anyone—but your fingers fumbled with the phone, the screen slick in your sweaty grip.

Then, the knocking started again. Louder this time, more insistent. And you knew, deep down, that Steve wasn’t going to leave.

With a trembling hand, you typed a message to Rachel. He’s here. You pressed send, praying she’d answer, praying she’d know what to do, because you were out of options.

The door rattled as the handle turned, and you backed away, feeling the walls press in, the fear tightening like a noose around your throat. Steve’s voice, quiet and low, drifted through the door.

“I know you’re in there. We need to talk.”

You felt the world narrow to that single point, every instinct screaming at you to run. But there was nowhere to go. You were trapped. And as his voice filled the silence, you knew this wasn’t over—it was only just beginning.

You bolted to the kitchen, clutching your phone as you moved. You fumbled to find the knife drawer, hands shaking as you yanked it open and grabbed the first one your fingers touched. It wasn’t much—a small paring knife, its blade reflecting the overhead light—but it felt like a lifeline, a piece of steel against the terror thrumming in your veins.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down. It was Rachel. Call the police. I’m on my way. Relief flooded through you, but it was quickly replaced by dread as Steve’s voice echoed again from the hallway.

“Why are you hiding?” he asked, his tone soft, almost pleading, as if you were the one being unreasonable. “You know I just want to talk, right? We need to fix this. I love you.”

The words felt like poison, winding through your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning against the counter for support. You’d heard those words so many times before, when he still had a hold on you, when you still believed they meant something real. But now they sounded like a threat..

You dialed 911, your fingers trembling as you pressed the phone to your ear. The operator’s voice was calm, clinical, as you whispered, “There’s someone outside my door. I think he’s trying to get in.”

“Stay calm, ma’am. Can you confirm your address for me?” You rattled off your location, the words spilling out in a rush. “We’re sending a unit now. Stay on the line.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you, clutching the phone tighter as you crouched down behind the kitchen counter. Steve was still at the door, his voice a low murmur, like he was talking to himself now. You strained to catch the words.

“…always trying to push me away… like I’m the bad guy…”

You felt the burn of tears in your eyes, but you forced them back. You couldn’t let him see you cry. That was what he wanted—to see you break, to know he still had power over you. But you were done giving him that.

Minutes dragged by, each one feeling like an eternity. You clung to the operator’s voice, her calm instructions grounding you in the reality of the moment. You were no longer the person who used to cling to Steve’s words, hoping he would change, hoping he’d be the man you once thought he was. You were someone different now—someone who had learned to survive.

The pounding at the door grew louder, and you felt the kitchen walls closing in as Steve’s patience ran out. “Open the door!” he shouted, and the sound of his fist slamming against the wood made you flinch. “You can’t keep ignoring me!”

You gripped the knife tighter, crouched down as small as you could, the sound of his rage vibrating through you. You tried to focus on the operator’s voice, the promise that help was coming, that you weren’t alone. But Steve’s shouts filled the apartment, drowning everything out.

A loud crash came from the door, and your heart leapt to your throat. You peeked around the corner, just in time to see the wood splintering under his weight as he slammed his shoulder into it. Fear surged, your mind screaming at you to run, but there was nowhere left to go. You were trapped.

“Ma’am, are you still there?” the operator’s voice cut through the chaos. “Officers are only a few minutes away. Stay with me.”

The door buckled again, the wood cracking. You knew you didn’t have minutes. You had seconds. Steve’s shouts were growing louder, more frantic. You backed up, knife in hand, feeling the walls press in.

Then, a sudden burst of noise—a new sound. Sirens. You heard them faintly at first, then louder, echoing down the street. You watched as Steve paused, his face twisted in frustration as he realized what was happening.

“No,” he muttered, his hands still pressed against the door. “No, this isn’t over.”

But you could see the shift in him, the way he hesitated, caught between his anger and the fear of being caught. The sirens were louder now, and you heard the slam of car doors, voices shouting orders.

Steve turned, and you watched through the peephole as he fled down the hallway. Relief crashed over you, so strong you almost collapsed. You stayed where you were, heart still racing, until you heard the knock on your door—a different knock this time, firm and authoritative.

“Police! Ma’am, are you in there?”

You scrambled to your feet, rushing to the door and fumbling with the locks. You pulled it open, and the sight of the officers standing there—two of them, their hands resting on their weapons—made you sag with relief.

“He was here,” you breathed, feeling the tears finally spill over. “He was trying to get in.”

One officer nodded, stepping forward to guide you out of the apartment. “We’ll take care of it. We need you to stay with us for a moment, okay?”

You nodded, letting them lead you out into the hallway, your legs shaky beneath you. As you stepped out, you caught sight of Rachel rushing through the lobby doors, her face pale with worry. She sprinted toward you, pulling you into a tight hug.

For the first time in months, you felt a flicker of safety, like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. But even as Rachel held you, her voice soothing in your ear, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end.

Because as you looked back at your apartment door, the wood still splintered and broken, you knew Steve was out there. And he wasn’t going to stop.

Long time no see💛. I have so much to catch y'all up on. But in the meantime hit up my ask inbox. I would love to chat ✨

[mrsjellymunson]

Hey, Boss

A prequel to Hello, Stranger

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Jim Hopper, Raymond ‘Red’ Reddington, Mr Kaplan, Dembe Zuma

Pairing: None until the next part (where it becomes Eddie Munson x gn!reader)

AU: Stranger Things AU with elements of The Blacklist

Summary: Eddie falls into a new line of work…

WC: ~3.9k

CW: 18+ MDNI. This miniseries is SFW, depending on your tolerance for dark/violent themes, but most of my blog is 18+ so minors please be aware of this and DNI. Dark humour, black comedy. Allusions to drug use, alcohol consumption, violence, crime and murder. Weapons, bodies and death are discussed. No smut, no reader in this part. This is a Stranger Things AU, the upside down is very briefly alluded to but Eddie doesn’t know about it. No time period mentioned, so if events or technology don’t track that’s why that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. The characters don’t know each other like they do in ST.

A/N: This is the prequel to ‘Hello, Stranger’. The two parts can be read in either order. As in the original part, there are some Easter eggs in here, this time from The Blacklist (obvs), Stargate, and a deliciously niche one from John Wick. Let me know if you spot any!

A/N additional: I would never have believed that I’d be revisiting this story a year after publishing it to add a fun little prologue, but here we are! 😃 The original part was written for a Halloween prompt event last year and was the first lengthy thing I’d shared; I was SO ridiculously nervous about posting it, you have no idea 🫣 Reading it again now, would I change things in the original? Yes. But mainly things like punctuation and formatting, because I think over the last year my writing has become clearer, so I’m kinda pleased that I’d leave the story exactly how it is. For anyone discovering this for the first time, I hope you enjoy!! Please let me know with a comment/reblog/feral spewings in my inbox, I’d love it, srsly 😉🖤

I have an Easter egg reveal post planned for this miniseries, if you’d like to hear about it just ask to be added to my general taglist where you can get notified about all my writing posts ☺️🖤

My masterlist

It’s a chilly October night, close to Halloween, and Eddie’s blasted out of his mind. Gareth got hold of some super strong skunk from a cousin who was visiting from out of state, and that combined with a few cool beers has left him even more buzzed than usual.

Forgoing his van on the insistence of his friends, and wanting to get home to the relative warmth of the trailer sooner rather than later, he’s decided to take a shortcut across Merrill Wright’s fields.

High as all hell, he's staggering as he navigates the pumpkins, managing to avoid most of the obvious orange orbs but forgetting that their tendrils need looking out for too.

He’s already tripped a couple of times, and curses out the vines for both being invisible at night and clearly conspiring with each other to sabotage his journey home. He swears that at least twice he’s seen them move...

Pushing through a thin layer of trees separating one field from the next, he stumbles forwards as an impeding branch snaps and gives way. Moving too quickly to stop himself, he totters forwards, hoping to regain his balance once he’s free of the spindly foliage.

But surprisingly, his feet fail to connect with anything at all, the ground disappears, and Eddie falls face first into… nothing.

Though it doesn’t remain nothing for long, swiftly becoming the harsh smack of hard, and very cold, dirt against his knees, torso and face.

Shocked, confused and more than a little winded, Eddie grunts and rolls onto his side, groaning. 

“Oooooohhhhhh fuuuuuuuckk…. What the hell—?”

He spits out a few clods of mud, and possibly part of a worm (sorry, dude), and tries to work out what just happened.

His hair has fallen over his face, and he pushes the waves, now bedecked with a sprinkling of leaves and soil, out of his eyes and looks upwards. 

Instead of the expected expanse of the clear night sky, perhaps even a few constellations if he cared to look carefully, his vision seems to have tunnelled, a significant proportion of it now a deep black. 

Sitting upright, he briefly wonders whether he’s concussed, or worse, but then the sound of someone speaking garners his undivided attention.

A light, high voice cuts through the night. 

“Hey, do you hear something?”

Eddie freezes, eyes wide. He’s not sure whether he’s comforted or more freaked out to discover he’s not the only one in this field at this time of night. This dark, isolated, middle-of-nowhere, nobody-within-screaming-distance field.

Another voice, deeper than the first, replies, 

“Like what?”

“I dunno, a grunt maybe?”

“A grunt? Uhh, no.”

“Why am I asking you anyway? Your ears are shot after one too many sportsball encounters…”

“Hey, shut up.”

Eddie hears some shuffling and a chortle, like two people jostling each other, before the deeper voice speaks again, but it’s in no way comforting.

“Uh, this guy’s definitely dead, right?”

There’s a noise that sounds like thick plastic being prodded with something.

“Yeah, yeah, this guy definitely. But I’m sure I heard something from over there.”

“Are you trying to spook me? You know how much I hate Halloween.”

Eddie hears an overly dramatic brrr and the rustling of clothing, and he imagines the guy shivering, like he’s shaking off a covering of non-existent snow.

Eddie, terrified but with a new sense of urgency, and eyes adjusting to the new level of darkness, glances more fully around his environment, figuring out that he’s definitely below ground level and in some kind of a hole. He spreads his arms wide, moving them around, and notices he can feel the edges on two sides, but not all four, meaning it’s a long hole. Long enough for him to lay down in. A hole, long enough to fit a human being in, but not much else. Okay, so… 

Wait, this is a fucking grave! Fuck, he’s in a goddamn motherfucking grave!!

Eddie stands, wobbling a little, and notices his eyeline is still below ground level. He reaches up, grabbing at the soil at the edge of the hole, but it’s dry and loose and crumbles in his hands. He tries to jump, grabbing at anything he can find on the ground, but to no avail. It’s tilled earth and there are no branches or roots, not even grass, that he can grab to pull himself out. He mentally takes back everything he said about pumpkin vines…

Suddenly he hears a dull thud, the sound of dragging, muttering, and two people grunting. 

Shit, they’re getting closer. And now there’s a large package wrapped in blue plastic at the edge of the hole, and they’ve just dropped two shovels, and—

Feigning nonchalance, Eddie leans a muddy shoulder against the raw earth, one hand on his hip and the other swiping through his hair as two faces, backlit by moonlight, hove into view. His voice cracks with,

“Hee-eeey guys, how’s it goin’?”

What the hell?? He’s literally standing in an open grave, that these two have probably just dug, and that’s the best he can come up with?

The figures regard Eddie, then turn to each other, then look back at Eddie. They both frown and in unison cock their heads sideways in the same direction, and Eddie, stoned and in shock as he is, has to suppress a giggle. 

Fuck, that weed really was strong… Damn you, Gareth’s cousin!

One of the figures, the slighter of the two, gestures into the hole with a muddy, gloved hand, asking, 

“Is he one of yours?”

The other guy looks both startled and mildly offended.

“What? No! Of course not!”

“Well, there was that one time where you, y’know, missed the mark, and we had to spend an hour chasing the guy before we put him down.”

The taller of the two flaps his arms exasperatedly, trying to point an index finger in the air but failing, the heavy duty gloves he’s wearing making him look more like he’s holding up a fist.

“One time! The one time I miss a goddamn artery and you’ve never let me live it down. Jeez man, gimme a goddamn break!”

“Okay, okay, I’m just sayin’”

“Well don’t! I don’t appreciate it when you criticise my abilities and undermine my self esteem.”

The slimmer figure speaks again, resting the knuckles of one gloved hand against their waist.

“Did your therapist tell you to say that?”

“Hey, don’t knock it. She’s helping me process my intergenerational trauma and internalised lack of self-worth.” 

The tall figure says the words like he’s reciting from a book, but he says them with conviction. Eddie briefly wonders whether he should ask the guy for the title. He finishes with, 

“Anyway, I don’t know who the fuck this asshole is.”

Hands now on his hips, he turns his attention back to Eddie, who, whilst they’d been talking, had been surreptitiously clawing at the back edge of the hole, trying desperately to lever himself out.

The figure with the higher voice turns to their compatriot, and with a somewhat sardonic tone to their voice remarks,

“Well, I suppose we’d better try and find out who this asshole is, and where he came from, huh?”

They lean forwards into the hole and brace themselves with their hands against their knees.

The skinnier figure begins the interrogation with,

“Did Andrea send you? Was it Annie?”

The taller guy continues,

“Wait, was it Red? Cuz if it was Red you can tell him it’s not fuckin’ funny…”

Eddie stammers,

“N-n-o, man, no. I don’t know who any of those people are. I’m, uh, I’m nobody, literally! I was just stoned, and walkin’ home and I, uh, just kinda, fell into this… whatever this delightful arrangement is.”

He gestures around him, attempting to convey that he neither knows, nor cares, exactly what this is.

Tall guy regards him down his nose.

“So, if nobody sent you, then nobody knows you’re here. But now you know we’re here. And I’m guessing that you’re guessing what we’re about to do here. So, I’m guessing the best thing all the way around is if you, y’know, stay here…”

Eddie, in his inebriated state, didn’t completely follow what this guy just said, but when the guy reaches behind him into his belt, and Eddie hears the unmistakable metallic clink of a gun being retrieved, he gets the message pretty damn quickly. 

The shovels, the ‘package’, the gun… oh god!

“Nonononono! Waitwaitwait!!”

He extends his arms and frantically waves his filthy hands in front of him in supplication. 

Think, Eddie, think!! What would you encourage the sheep to do in such an impossible campaign situation? Thiiiiiiink!

The guy levels the gun at Eddie’s head. He still can’t see their faces clearly, but he can most certainly make out the end of the barrel as it glints in the moonlight.

Eddie scrunches his eyes up tight, grimacing, every muscle in his body tensing in expectation of the horror to come.

Abruptly, his mind fills with the most bizarre and inspired creative idea that he thinks he’s ever had.

Fuck, that weed really was strong… Thank you, Gareth’s cousin!

“What if I told you I could help make your job easier? Maybe more enjoyable? Or, at the very least, more interesting?”

He sees the barrel of the gun lower ever so slightly. 

Oh good, now it’s not aimed at his head. Just at his chest. Progress?

He presses on.

“Your bosses want you to make people disappear, right? Boring, efficient, sure. But not that interesting. Probably doesn’t pay all that well either, huh?”

The two figures look at each other again, frowning, and Eddie’s pretty sure they're deciding whether they should let the guy in the hole keep talking, or just shut him up for good, drop the other package in and cover them both over.

“How about we give ‘em a little something extra first? Like a show? A demonstration. An exhibition, if you will.”

Eddie’s got into his stride now, and is walking up and down the length of the six foot hole waving his arms in wide arcs, as if he’s delivering one of his lunchtime diatribes on a canteen table.

“Say there’s some guy who’s been messin’ with your patch. Goods are goin’ missing, or his funds are coming up short. Sure, you could just pop a cap in him and stick him in the ground,” 

He glances nervously at the tarp-wrapped bundle, 

“But wouldn’t it be more satisfying to really teach him a lesson. Bury him at the four corners of the state? Spray him all over this field? Dissolve him ‘til there’s nothing left? Now that really sends a message, don’tcha think? Plus, it’d sure be entertaining for your bosses to watch. Must get pretty boring for them. Y’know, pop a guy, wrap a guy, pop a guy, wrap a guy…”

He regards the two heavies carefully, trying to judge whether he’s made any impression on them whatsoever. They’re looking at each other and then back at Eddie.

Eventually the bigger figure speaks.

“Whaddaya think, Rob? Shall we take him back to talk to—“

“Fuckssake Steve, don’t tell him my name! Ah, fuck, Jeez…”

Sighing, the figure turns back towards Eddie.

“Yeah, okay, if this is as revelatory as you say it is, then fine. But it better be. Don’t make us come back out here for a second time tonight.”

Eddie takes this threat very, very seriously. 

“Okay, okay, whatever you say. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, I swear.”

The figure pauses for a moment, contemplative, before puffing out a long breath from between their lips.

“Well, for a start you can help us finish up with this guy. Steve, get him out of that hole and pass him my shovel...”

Eddie’s only thought is, great, I’m not gonna die! At least, not right now…

———

An hour later, freezing, muddy, exhausted, still terrified and, incongruously, still a little stoned, Eddie walks between Rob and Steve back to their vehicle, an SUV that he notices has “Buckley & Harrington, Landscaping Services & Specialised Waste Disposal” emblazoned on the side. 

‘Specialised waste disposal’ indeed… 

They bundle Eddie into the back, Rob grousing the whole way, and make him lie under yet another blue tarp so he can’t see where they’re going. He doesn’t much like being on this side of the plastic, and dearly hopes it’s the only time he has to experience it.

After some time, and a number of bruises acquired from sliding around the truck bed, the truck stops and the two figures start to bundle Eddie out of the back.

Still partially under the tarp, Eddie sees the lower half of a large, heavy set man in military fatigues and combat boots join them outside. Still shaken from the evening’s events and disoriented from the uncomfortable journey, Eddie can’t quite make out their entire conversation. He does hear what the hell and let me explain, plus a lot of grumbling in what could be a West African accent.

Finally freed from the tarp, Eddie is grabbed by the shoulders from behind by a pair of very strong hands, dragged off the truck bed and shoved, stumbling, forwards.

The three figures walk him into an old warehouse, the huge shutters open to the night and the entire place brightly lit and remarkably active given the hour. It’s crammed with pallets, shelves, crates, people and machinery. There are forklifts lifting things in and out of trucks and people carrying paperwork and speaking on phones. Many seem to have ominous-looking bulges in their waistbands and jackets that Eddie really doesn’t want to become any more closely acquainted with.

A large man is barking orders and holding a mug that says coffee and contemplation on the side, but judging by the subtle wince that happens each time he takes a swig, Eddie suspects it contains something stronger than his favourite Java. His voice is gruff, and to his great surprise, Eddie recognises it. 

“Uh, Hopper, is that you?”

The man turns, frowning at first, but as he clocks Eddie his free hand flaps dejectedly at his side and his eyes roll up into his skull. 

“Oh Jeez. What the hell is he doing here? What have you two idiots done now?”

Eddie's new acquaintances look sheepishly at each other. The one named Rob ventures,

“Uh, he has a proposal for Red, something about a novel business idea?”

“Goddamnit, I know this guy! And now, thanks to you two bozos, he knows me too!”

Steve interjects this time,

“Just give him five minutes with Mr Kaplan, boss! Honestly, I think Red’s gonna love this.”

Hopper doesn’t look convinced, but he grabs a guy with a clipboard as he scurries past and asks him to find whoever Mr Kaplan is. Eddie doesn’t like the sound of this. The dude sounds pretty scary.

After no more than a minute, a small, tweed-clad lady appears. She’s older than everyone here, and her face is pinched, but somehow also looks kind. Eddie imagines she’d look far more at home in a library than… whateverthisis. He wonders if she’s Mr Kaplan’s secretary, or something.

“Come on then you two, spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

The two stammer and splutter their way through an explanation, trying to justify why they not only spared this guy, but also brought him back to their base of operations. Eddie finally comprehends that this is Mr Kaplan. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved, or even more terrified.

At various points Mr Kaplan sucks in her cheeks, tilts her head and folds her arms, reminding Eddie of every disapproving teacher he ever had, and more than once he considers how far he might get if he hightailed it through those large doors and made off into the night. But then he remembers how he got here, who he’s with, the amount of hardware everyone appears to be carrying, how often he skipped PT at school, how much he’s smoked this evening (not to mention over the last however many years), and, not least, the fact that he has less than no clue about where he actually is. 

Finally, the two cronies stop talking, and Mr Kaplan’s focus turns entirely to Eddie. Despite being significantly taller than she is, he feels about two feet high under her gaze, and that this moment could be about to define his future, his fate.

“Well, dearie, it’s certainly a unique proposition. And one I’m intrigued to see if you can pull off. But ultimately, it’s not my decision. All I can do is get you a meeting with Red, and then you’re on your own.”

Steve seems thrilled by this outcome, his eyes wide and a grin on his lips. He shifts in place excitedly and jovially taps his elbow against Eddie’s upper arm. Eddie side-eyes him, guessing the guy is pleased that he isn’t going to suffer any repercussions for going ‘off script’ by bringing Eddie here like this, but he does wonder what on earth makes him think they’re ever going to be friends.

Mr Kaplan nods to Hopper, who takes this as his cue and disappears out of sight. Mr Kaplan doesn’t see it, but Eddie notices his weary-looking eye roll.

Eddie finally gets a good look at the guy who ‘helped’ him off the truck and brought him inside. He’s tall, huge, shaven-headed and intimidating. Eddie doesn’t look for long.

After a few minutes, the shaven-headed heavy motions for Eddie to step into a somewhat more private area of the warehouse, sectioned off by some disturbing-looking medical curtains on rusting rails that offer visual, if not much auditory, privacy. Eddie figures the noise of vehicles and machinery elsewhere likely drown out any talking that goes on in here anyway.

There’s a screen set up that’s displaying a fuzzy, low quality image of a man sitting in what appears to be a lavish sitting room. There’s a picture of a landscape, or maybe sky, hanging to his left, and the audio quality is marred by a low rumble. Eventually, Eddie’s brain catches up and he realises it’s not a picture at all but a window, and what Eddie can see is clouds and what he can hear is the roar of an engine - the guy’s on a plane. All he can think is, Jeezus, this guy must be loaded.

As the image comes into better focus the figure looks oddly familiar. Eddie’s vaguely reminded of a sci-fi film he saw that had Kirt Russell in it and something about pyramids, but he brushes it aside, more important things on his mind. 

The man is clad in a fedora and an exquisitely tailored suit, and as Eddie is positioned in front of what he presumes is a camera the figure removes his hat and lifts a crystal tumbler containing a deep brown liquid to his lips.

Hopper fills Eddie in.

“This is Mr Reddington. You can speak when he says you can.”

The well-dressed man speaks first, in a voice that’s even more imposing than that of the tall heavy who brought Eddie in here. 

“I understand you have a business proposition for me, young man. I’d like to hear it directly from you, if I may?”

Eddie thinks quickly, describing possible scenarios that he’s come up with. He reiterates the ideas he had earlier, and adds a few more, getting inspiration from horror movies, comics, and even some of his D&D campaigns.

“That does all sound very interesting. And heaven knows we need some levity in this business. But I do need to confer with my colleagues. Chief, what do you think? Does this kid’s idea have legs?”

Hopper and Red have a moment of eye contact, before Hopper sighs loudly and admits, reluctantly,

“It is kinda novel. And he’s basically a good kid, don’t kill him yet, huh? He can be annoying as fuck, but goddamnit if he goes missing we’d have to do at least some kind of an investigation. The amount of people I’d have to interview, the press… The paperwork alone would be hell…”

He pinches the top of his nose, and Red purses his lips, apparently conceding that Hopper’s time would be much better spent doing whatever it is that he does for him rather than wasting it on unimportant matters such as police work. His expression suddenly brightens, and the formerly imposing figure on the screen turns disconcertingly jovial.

“Well, I think it sounds like fun. I’ll tell you what, we’ll try him out for a couple of months and see how he does.”

Hopper turns to look at Eddie.

“Okay, Munson, we’re gonna give you a try. You’d better keep it interesting though, or so help me…”

He makes a small but unsubtle slicing motion across his neck with his thumb. Eddie takes it at face value, knowing he means it.

Red addresses the whole group now.

“You know, this reminds me of the time I was playing miniature golf in Andalucia with the Sultan of Brunei and Jimmy Hoffer. Richard Pryor walked up and asked if any of us knew anything about llama farming. We all looked at him askance, I mean, do any of us look like we did? But then, to my great surprise and delight, the Sultan said…”

The burly dude holds Eddie around the shoulders again, but more gently than before. At least, Eddie assumes it’s gentle. The guy’s stature suggests significantly more physical ‘prowess’, which Eddie’s grateful he's not been on the receiving end of. He’s steered away from the screen and back towards the main area of the warehouse.

Nervously, just before they leave the curtained off area and afraid this might be seen as an offense, Eddie stammers,

“Where’re we- Shouldn’t I…?”

The man’s deep, caramel voice carries easily to Eddie’s ears, as he remarks,

“Trust me, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of any more of Raymond’s epic tales than you absolutely have to be. You can thank me later.”

Eddie looks back over his shoulder, just in time to see Chief Hopper’s brow crinkle and raise in what looks to be a poor facsimile of engagement, and he takes another, deep, swig from his coffee mug. He, apparently, knew he was in it for the duration.

They reach the area where Steve and Rob are still standing, apparently playing some kind of thumb war game. The big guy extends a powerful-looking hand towards Eddie, clasping his own in an iron grip. There’s a soft smile on his face as he looks down and says,

“Welcome to the team. I’m Dembe, by the way.”

Mr Kaplan finishes up a conversation she’s having nearby with another pair of guys with clipboards and conspicuous gun holsters, and as she’s making her way out, she remarks to Eddie,

“You’re in luck, you can start tonight. We’re expecting another package, so you can help these two clowns. God knows they need it.”

Steve frowns, and Rob emits a quiet,

“Hey—”

Mr Kaplan continues,

“No need for anything elaborate right now dearie, save that for next time. But we do need some supplies. Dembe, get him some cash from the office.”

Eddie’s conflicted. He’s confused, excited, relieved, and, yep, still a little wasted.

He does have his typical nervousness about how well he’s actually gonna be able to “perform”, and how long he can keep up the interest in what he’s suggested. Following a brief discussion with Steve and Rob, a few crumpled bills are shoved into his overly-sweaty palm.

Of course, his main thought is, great, I’m not gonna die! At least, not tonight… 

But his overriding concern soon becomes:

Where the hell is he going to find rope, duct tape and a shovel at this time of night??

Next part, ‘Hello, Stranger’

My masterlist

I really hope you enjoyed this little prologue! Please reblog and leave comments, your support means everything to writers 🖤🙏

Tagging my ‘everything’ list, ILY @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @sassidykassidy @richter-raccoon @1deverland

Also tagging those who commented on/reblogged the first one, just lemme know if you’d rather not be! @bakusquadobsessed @mewchiili @bettyfrommars @pedroschka @transparent-enemy @ali-r3n @fracturedarkness @tinytyphooncloud @alverdekote @elegantkoalapaper @ddaydreamdelusionss @ramona-thorns @vitzi9 @lurkingprincess @cherrysabbath @pullingattheroots

[saber-monet]

made these a while back. they look so cozy!!

[littlemelaninfics]

So, I really want to get back into Dark! Writing..👀 18+ ONLY

That was honestly the whole reason I created this account, to separate my darker pieces from the more socially appropriate, if you will.

I don’t want that to be the focus of my page, but I do think I’ve deviated away from it a bit too far, so I just want to start incorporating it again!

If you have any requests, send the in!

Here are a few examples of my Darker writings:

TRIGGER WARNING

1.) Dylan O’Brien

2.) Steve Rogers

3.) Chris Evans

[xsapphirescrollsx]

D*ck pic Steve Rogers

Written: 2020 I think, lol.

Dark! Steve Rogers x Black!Reader

Anyways this was based on a post I reblogged! Remember this one @titty-teetee?

Anonymous asked:

Now I wanna know what dick pic Steve is planning to do? Don’t leave me hanging please! *grabby hands*

“See you in a little bit ;)”

You handed the phone over to your roommate and waited for shock to spread across her features. What should have been an appropriate reaction to the Captain America texting a picture of his penis to you a week ago, and then following it up with such a vague message, instead the woman began to chuckle.

“It’s a fuckin’ joke, okay?” Your roommate began to thumb through your phone. 

“--But let me see it one more time…”

You grabbed the rag and began to wipe off the kitchen counter in a huff. “That’s not the point!” you yelled. “I don’t want to see his dick, the man’s a fucking jerk.”

Silence swelled between the space, turning back to your roommate she was staring at your phone. Slowly, tilting her head along with the phone. 

“Damn.” she said. “If that really is his dick, “ she pointed at the screen, her head turned in your direction but her eyes remained glued to the screen. “I mean...if this giant pecker right here really is Steve Rogers ---” she sucked at her teeth.

“Then you’re in trouble.” The roommate didn’t even try to contain the giggles. “It’s been what - two years?” 

You snatched the phone out of her hand. “Fuck off.”

“Okay, alright. Well...I’m going out.” The roommate picked her purse off the counter, gave her hair a final check at the mirror opposite the island counter. “Don’t wait up.”

“I never do.” you didn’t even bother to turn around. 

The door slammed behind you while putting away the last of the dishes you cleaned after dinner. A minute passed, and then maybe five more when the door knob twisted. It was a familiar sound met with an eye roll that your roommate most likely forgot something on her way out. Armed with sharp words, even more piercing cutdowns about her vapid mind you jerked the door open. 

“You dumb biii-” Your voice died like some balloon having the air let out at an agonizing pace.

“That’s no way to address a guest Miss.”

You blinked a few times. Steve Rogers stood on the other side of your threshold looking like the man you had seen so many times on your television screen, the papers, magazines...and your phone. Perfect blonde hair combed back, up and away from his face made for the striking angle that his beard brought out along his jaw. His eyes, different, somehow colder than you could have imagined glared back at you. 

Steve stepped forward, pushed his way past the door. His commanding, straight edge presence made your resolve crumble back out of his way from the door. 

He couldn’t help but grin as the fear began to pool in your eyes.

“I told ya,” he said as he stopped a few inches in front of you. “That picture was for you.”

With a few fingers on the knob he slammed it shut behind him. “Shame you couldn’t believe me.”

“How was I supposed to know?” you tried to speak up, gain some perspective on the situation but it didn’t help that Steve was now advancing once again. “We were in a forum with fifteen other people. It was for volunteer work! As far as I could tell you were just another perv who scooped up my information.”

You bumped up against the counter, Steve kept walking until he was within a few inches of your body. 

“What do you want?” 

Steve let your question linger in the air long enough to see the first trembling shakes in the tips of your fingers.

“Get on your knees.” he said, he moved so fast you flinched. Steve began to unbutton his jeans right there in front of you. “I think you should get a closer look. Maybe you would appreciate what you are about to receive.”

“No way.”

Steve snatched you by the jaw. “And you’re gunna swallow what I give you.” With his other hand he pushed down to kneel. He swiveled his hand underneath your chin and jaw as he worked with the zipper of his jeans.

“Since I saw you, “ he shoved his jeans down to his thighs. “I’ve thought about nothing but you.”

You didn’t want to look, and you tried. Your eyes stared up at his nose, his lips, chin anything but the long, thick member currently being rubbed on from your peripheral. 

Your heart beat drowned out his voice a bit, but not as much as you wanted. “So fuckin’ sweet.” Steve whispered, he squeezed your jaw hard forcing you to open your mouth and the second it did he stuck two fingers through your lips, over your tongue and down your throat. 

The first wretch was hard, felt like it was going to cave in your chest. “Good…” Steve said in a pleased hush. “It’ll be me that gets to break this throat in then.”

Steve kept thrusting his fingers, with every gag more saliva gathered. “And after this I’ll plant some seeds, what’dya say?”

“Remember you said you always wanted to be a mother?”

Your mind fell back to the passive remarks said over an open forum. It was a slip really, you were trying to make a fellow volunteer feel better. You tried to shake your head away from him but he kept your jaw there even when you pushed back on his thighs.

Steve pulled his fingers out of your throat and smacked you hard across the face with his wet hand. “Do you want your hands tied?” he shouted in your face.

And when you started to cry Steve stepped back up, he shoved your hands off his thighs, he grabbed both sides of your face and brought your lips to the tip of his cock. 

“You’re a hero…” you said before Steve pushed the thick head past your lips. Stretching the corners of your mouth around the girth of his flesh. 

“That’s right sweetheart,” his voice shuddered at the sensation of soft skin at the back of your throat. And when your eyes rolled back, the hair stood up at the nape of his neck and Steve nearly fell apart right then and there. But he calmed himself and tilted his head back while closing his eyes as he began to bob your head back and forth. 

A moan deep in his belly crawled up the back of his throat in a groan. 

“I’m your hero, aren’t I, honey?” he whimpered. “A strong man just for you…”

Steve pushed you down harder, thrusted in farther until he was over more than half way in your mouth. “A little woman just for me.”

Steve rolled his head back down and stared at the mess he was making around your mouth. “That’s it sweetheart.” He pushed more down into you. “Don’t--” your hands went back to his thighs as he continued. “Don’t push me off...it’s good for you.” he insisted.

“I’ll tie you up…” he grunted under another moan. Your hands slipped from his jeans, and balled them up in your tee shirt. 

“Good girl, now loosen that jaw….so tight.”

Reluctantly, you did as instructed. “Stick your tongue out, let Daddy feel your whole mouth.” he growled low. 

Still holding the sides of your face, Steve kept you there, gagging and struggling to breath beyond the warm, long cock stuffed in your mouth. 

For a moment, your eyes swirled back up to his. Steve was staring down at you, his mouth was open a bit, the corner started to pull into a wicked smile and your eyes went blurry. 

“I bet after today you won’t ever ignore another text from me again.”

[ramp-it-up]

The Sweetest Nectar

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader. Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Steve is pining for you and the fact that you are Sam’s girl doesn’t mean a thing.

Word Count: 1K.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT, 

Warnings: Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Soft Dark Subby Nomad Steve Rogers. Darkish reader. Mention of pre-serum Steve, Lap dance in public, voyeurism, masturbation, mention of drugs and alcohol, pining, angst, teasing, exhibitionism (on reader’s part), possible non con exhibitionism (on Sam’s part). Oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up), sloppy seconds, possible cheating. All errors my own.

A/N: Thanks for this ask! It streched me.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were giving your boyfriend a lap dance on Steve’s couch, and it made the host irrationally happy. 

Steve was glad that Sam had someone, especially someone as sweet as you. Damn, you were probably so fucking sweet.

Steve licked his lips as he watched your hips undulate in front of Sam’s face. This was the perfect opportunity to watch you and ogle your body, because everyone was a little tipsy and a little high and doing it too. 

It was all in fun, right?

You glanced at Steve upside down as you gyrated on Sam’s lap now, and bent backward all the way over, your braids touching the floor, giving the room a view of your luscious tits. 

Yeah. You were perfect. And this night was the highlight since Steve came out of the ice.

You winked at Steve and his face grew red, but he played it off by taking another drink and rubbing his beard while flipping his long hair out of his face.

It worked on countless other women, but you just sat back up and pulled Sam’s face into the valley of your breasts, gasping as he motorboated your clothed breasts and grabbed the glorious globes of your blue-jeaned ass. 

People laughed, but Steve’s mood changed; he started plotting dismemberment and where to scatter body parts when Bucky came up to stand beside him and watch.

“Hold it up a little higher, buddy.”

Steve didn’t tear his eyes away from you as he took another drink and replied.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That torch you’re carrying. Maybe she’ll see it if you hold it up higher, Lady Liberty.”

Steve just scoffed and drank some more, not denying anything that Bucky had said.

Bucky laughed and went to get another beer, as Steve practically cried in his, his heart silently aching for you.

—-

You and Sam were in Steve’s bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that everyone else was doing body shots in the kitchen.

“F-f-fuckkkkk! Samuel T-t-t-hom… fuck, Samuel Thomas W-w-wilsonnnnn.”

You were grabbing Sam’s ears as he skillfully ate you out, looking down on him between your legs as he sucked and pulled and played with your clit.

“Fucky, Baby… where did you learn to do … goddamn…”

You panted to try and catch your breath as he inserted three fingers inside you and spread them out.

“Holyyyyyy Shhhhhhh!!!!!!!!” 

You came like a freight train, your knees clamping down around Sam’s head. Sam’s large hands pried you from around his face and came up for air, a triumphant smirk on his face. He held your legs open and gazed at the pretty dark, wet lips of your cunt and the creamy liquid oozing out between them.

“Learning new techniques every day. Just to keep you satisfied, darlin’,”

Sam shook his head and watched as your pretty pussy lips sheltered your still quivering folds.

“It’s a beautiful view.”

Steve silently agreed from the closet, watching your beautiful cunt shine in the dim light from the street. He had his hand wrapped around his cock, fisting himself brutally at the sights, sounds, and faint smell of you. Steve silently willed Sam to action, wanting to hear how that wet pussy sounded when it was fucked good. 

It was just like before the war, when he watched Bucky…

“Hmmmm, Daddy. Give me some. Please? Pretty please. Will you give me some of that thick dick?”

You leaned back, legs still open, looking up at Sam, who was standing now, in front of you.

Your face, fucked out and glowing, looked up at his friend as you licked your lips was everything in the world to Steve Rogers right now.

Steve imagined it was him you were begging, and he didn’t know if he wanted you to suck Sam off or let him fuck you senseless. He just knew that wanted to bust this nut.

“Assume the fucking position then.”

You whimpered, and Steve nearly bust in his hand.

“Yes, Daddy.” 

You got on all fours on the bed and that view was even better than before. Oh, how he’d eat that ass, Steve thought.

Sam smacked both cheeks three times, and your moans and sighs alone were enough to make Steve cum. He watched his friend line up his thick dick and swipe it through your folds, and could almost feel your beautiful wetness. Stevehad to bite his lips to hold in his own grunts as Sam slowly, wetly, and solidly sank into you. 

“Ohhhhhh… shit….DADDY!!!”

“Fuuuuuccccckkkkkk!”

Sam’s head lolled back on his shoulders as he bottomed out and Steve’s eyes practically rolled back in his head as he witnessed the ecstasy. 

Then, Sam looked down and smacked your ass again. Steve watched, rapt, as Sam slowly pulled almost all the way out, then plunged quickly back into your wet goodness. He bet you were so warm. Sam did it again and again and again, faster and faster, and faster. Steve stroked in time as you moaned louder and louder and louder, oblivious to the others at the party.

Steve watched your back arch, and your flesh shake and ripple with every back shot delivered. He was so fucking close.

“Daddy? Daddy? Please Daddy.. I wanna, I wanna….I neeeeeed to…”

“Cum, Darlin’... give it to me. Fuck yeah!”

Sam’s voice was a growl and as you started shaking, Steve’s cum started spilling into his palm and the sock that he was using to contain it.

“Shhsshhhhittttttt….” Steve’s whisper was not silent, but quiet enough that you two wouldn’t hear it over your own noises.

You and Sam collapsed on the bed..

“That was great, Darlin’. You shouldn’t tease me like that in public. ‘S not gonna stop me from giving it to you.” 

Sam kissed your nose.

“I am well aware of what that does to a man. Makes it that much better, Daddy.”

Sam laughed, and then moved toward the bathroom.

“We better get outta here, before Steve catches us in his bedroom.”

You looked toward the bathroom and then sat up on the edge of the bed, legs open again.

Steve saw your wrecked pussy, the combination of you and Sam seeping out, and his cock swelled again. He nearly yelled when he saw you playing in it again. It was like you were doing it just for him.

But you stopped when Sam came back out to get dressed.

“I need a little more time to get cleaned up. You go ahead.”

“Ok Darlin,” Sam leaned over and kissed your forehead and you reached for a peck on the lips.

“You made me hungry, took all my energy. I’m going to go eat some food.” 

Sam winked and left the room smiling and happy.

When the door closed, you stared straight at the closet.

“Well? Are you going to stay in there and jack off again, or are you going to come out and clean me up?”

You leaned back on your hands, legs wide.

“Now’s your chance Steve. I know you’re in there. Are you going to come out Captain?”

Steve gulped. Then he couldn’t help but comply.

“Fuck…”

Steve emerged from the closet, the tip hard cock glistening and stiff at the opening of his undone pants. He walked toward you and dropped to his knees.

You threaded your hand in his hair, brushing it away from his forehead as he closed his eyes at your touch. You guided his head toward your throbbing cunt.

“You get sloppy seconds, but I bet that’s what you like…”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Steve nodded vigorously as his tongue collected the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted.

[mariaxxxxx]

Welcome a Masterlist of Masterlist

Hello, I'm Maria E, She/They. Just a Brazilian girl who loves to write. I hope you enjoy my stories and forgive my bad English. My stories are for people of legal age (18+) Pay attention to warnings, please; Some themes can be sensitive and trigger triggers.🩷🩷

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Namor/K'ul'ku'kan

🐍 Love under the sunset (in progress)

🐍 Underneath the waves (in progress)

🐍 Dragon fruit (completed)

🐍 Fantasize ( completed)

🐍Gods Falls Sometimes ( completed)

🐍 I Wish Under The Same Roof ( completed)

Baron Helmut Zemo

🫐Blueberry (shortly)

🟣 The love you offer me ( completed)

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

🔫Cherry (completed)

🔫 Boy, I want your attention (completed)

Steve Rogers/Capitain America

🗽 Blackberry (completed)

[fastlikealambo]

EDDIE SABOTAGING THE CAR OMG

Could we see how the decision to get reader went down? Half of me thinks that they came up with a gameplay to seduce the reader, but the other half of me feels like they're semi-flying by the seat of their pants to get her

Also I'm devouring all of this AU, I love it!!

I'm having the best day with this au omg thank you <3

So it was both actually!

Nancy sat her lovers down after the first time Reader spent the night, after they all agreed that there was something about reader that they all felt in that short time in her presence. Nancy told them that they had to be careful, that reader was still so guarded, they couldn't just throw themselves at her feet or she'd be lost.

At that kitchen table, they all agreed to let reader slowly come to them, to draw her out in a slow seduction in their own ways with assistance from Nancy whom Reader already trusted. They agreed that while they couldn't be outright with their romantic intentions for Reader, they could still watch out for her.

They started their own individual plans; nancy convinced the editor of the newspaper to give reader a sports article about the swim team and guess who's on the swim team? Steve. Eddie is failing french 101 and guess who's a french minor? Reader. Reader's favorite campus coffee shop is hiring, guess who wants another part time job? Robin.

In their own little battle stations, they slowly start to get to know reader individually and fall just as hard as nancy, reporting back to each other on how their alone time with reader is going.

But then something happens, the outside world starts to creep in their relationship with reader. Steve overhears someone on the swim team talking bad about reader, someone spills their coffee on reader on purpose in Robin's presence, Eddie notices that Reader isn't smiling and laughing as much during their tutoring sessions, and Nancy sees Reader falling asleep in journalism class.

Nancy does a little digging and finds out in the beginning of the semester, some rich kid cheated off Reader during a test and reader went to a dean about it who let it slide with barely a slap on the wrist since their building was named after the kid's great great grandfather. the rich kid and their friends have been targeting reader ever since, even more since she's fallen in with the aloof foursome of hawkins that the rich kid can't pay for access to.

Reader mentions to Eddie that she's going to help him find a new tutor since she'll be transferring at the end of the semester AND ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE

This is when they start to go to the lengths explained in the last post, just pure chaos, and their more dark impulses start to make their way to the surface because not only is reader not supposed to leave, no one, and they mean, no one, is supposed to harm reader. there's a reason why people think nancy, robin, steve, and eddie are dangerous and someone's about to find out why....

[chixkencxrry]

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

[saber-monet]