#dark steve x reader

[sosa2imagines]

Yours, ours, mine.

Imagine you are Bucky's wife. Steve has retired. He came back, after returning the stones. He gave Sam the shield. Steve lives with you and Bucky.

The more Steve sees you and Bucky, the more he pictures such life for himself. He fucks around with random girls. But all he can imagine is your face. Moaning your name, everytime he comes.

You roam freely in the house, having no clue about Steve's fascination with you.

He has set a camera in your bedroom. He jerks himself to the sight, of you and Bucky having sex. He is obsessed with your curves and figure. He loves seeing you naked.

When Bucky is out for work, Steve gets all touchy with you. You try to maintain distance. So he comes with a solution. He adds sleeping pills in your tea. Once you are knocked out, he sleeps next to you. Gently undresses you. Paying extra attention to your pussy, sucking your breasts like his life depends on them. Hands exploring your body, like he is worshipping you.

But he wants more. He wants to be balls deep buried in you.

He starts to gaslight Bucky. Picking up on his insecurities. "What if she gets bored of being alone for months, when you are out on missions?", "what about her needs?", "what if she finds someone else?".

Bucky pleads to him to stop. Steve assures him, he'll take care of you. Steve makes Bucky say that "Bucky himself is okay with Steve taking care of your his needs."

Bucky leaves for the mission happily, relieved his best friend will take care of you.

Steve is happy, to finally make you his.

You have no clue about this.

Good news lovelies, I have finally wrote this fic. The longest I have ever written.

Yours, ours, mine.

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[darkserenity24]

𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝒎𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂

Soft Dark! Steve Rogers x Reader

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘺, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 6.5𝘬

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙣𝙤𝙣-𝙘𝙤𝙣, 𝙙𝙪𝙗-𝙘𝙤𝙣, 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙧, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙞𝙩, 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙚𝙭 𝘼𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘈/𝘕: 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘦𝘢 ;) 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨!

Your smile grew wide as you felt a familiar pair of brawny arms wrap around your waist, enveloping you in a warm embrace. The hug was tight but not too tight, as your husband was highly aware of his strength and would never want to cause you harm.

Setting down the large wooden spoon you were using to stir the pot of vegetables, you turned away from the stove and settled into the embrace of your loving partner.

You tilted your head up for a kiss which he eagerly granted you, and when you pulled away you were met with radiant crystal blue eyes that held so much love for you. You reached up to run your fingers through his short dirty blonde locks as he rubbed a sizable hand down your back.

“Smells good in here, honey.” He complimented with a sweet smile. “How long do we have?”

You hummed, “I’d say about ten more minutes but realistically it could be more like five if you let me finish cooking this time without any distractions.”

His eyes darkened and a smirk appeared on his smooth pink lips. “Now how can I do that when you look just as delicious as the meal you’re making?” His hands slowly trailed down the back of your dress and toyed with the strings of your apron.

“Steve,” You sent him a playful yet cautionary look. “Give me just five more minutes. We’ll eat dinner and then I promise I’m yours for the rest of the night.”

He sighed dramatically before reluctantly letting you go and slowly backing away. “If you must.”

You gave him a teasing smile and waved him off with the wooden spoon before returning to your culinary task.

Your husband was always this way, loving you and wanting to be with you at any moment of the day. There have been way too many times in the past when you fell for his sweet charm and suggestive touches, letting him sweep you off your feet and take you away from your cooking. This resulted in many burnt dishes and ordering takeout for the night.

It’s not like you didn’t like it, in fact, you loved how much he wanted you. You just wished he had a bit more self-control so you could function more properly.

Steve was your world. He made you complete. He cared for you, doted on you, and protected you. He always made sure you were comfortable, well-fed, and hydrated. You never had a need for anything. Whenever you’d start having those rare moments of fear and anxiety, he would brew a cup of your favorite tea, give you a massage, and run a warm bath for you. It always did the trick in calming you down and allowing you to gain your more rational thoughts back.

Your relationship wasn’t out of the ordinary but it wasn’t very common nowadays. It was special. You were the one taking care of things in the house while Steve was the protector and breadwinner, and both of you were perfectly fine with that. 

You didn’t go out very much, preferring to stay at home with your various plants, books, and attentive husband, but when you did venture out into the world it was sort of strange. Most people seemed to look down on your traditional relationship, asking you very personal questions that confused you, and in turn, caused Steve to be upset. 

He never seemed to like when people spoke to you like they were familiar with you. He would quickly remove you from the situation and take you back home. You and Steve rarely ever argued, but when you did it was always about those situations. You’d tell him that he didn’t have to whisk you away from people at the first sign of discomfort. You could take care of yourself and you thought it was a bit much. He on the other hand thought it was perfectly reasonable.

Steve Rogers wasn't just your husband, but he was also Captain America. America’s golden boy and the first-ever Avenger. He’s experienced the world more than you ever have which was both a blessing and a curse. Steve was a hero but he also had been traumatized, and he didn’t want you to get caught up in anything that could potentially harm you. Even if it was just your feelings being hurt.

He treated you like you were the most precious thing on Earth. You were the most precious thing to him and so was he to you. Though, he was a bit more extreme when it came to protecting you. Anytime you left the house he would be right at your side. At the grocery store, the doctor’s office, picking up packages, wherever. He was basically your second shadow. Your guardian angel. 

Luckily for him, you were a homebody, so most of the time you stayed in your comfortable cute little house while he left for work every day. Though you liked to think of it like that, your house was anything but little. It was quite expansive and was at least three stories high including a basement and a four-car garage.

You had no idea why it was so large as it was only the two of you living there, but Steve loved the place and so you did too. You had more space for your various projects and paintings to lounge about, but you knew that would not be for very long. It was no secret that Steve wanted to have children, and the five extra rooms in the house told you that he wanted more than just one or two.

You both were trying to get pregnant for a while but it still hadn’t happened. This was something that haunted you. Steve gave you everything and you weren’t able to even produce one child for him. He pretended to be okay with it but you could see through his earnest facade, he was disappointed. Not in you of course, but that didn’t make it any less heartbreaking.

It wasn’t from lack of trying, that’s for sure. Almost every single night your husband made it his life’s mission to be deep inside of you, making sure you came around him several times before spilling his hot seed inside of you with intense determination. 

How you were not pregnant yet was a mystery to both of you. Your first thought was that your own body was rejecting him. Something was wrong with you and it was unfixable. Then you thought it was the super serum running through his veins that was the problem. It wasn’t heard of for a super soldier and a normal human to be able to produce offspring. However, Dr. Helen Cho had ruled out both possibilities, saying that there was no apparent reason for you and Steve not to be able to conceive.

Regardless, both of you continued to try, and no matter how sore you were or how many bruises and marks he left on your sensitive body, you were just as eager to lay underneath his strong, muscled frame and wrap your legs tightly around him.

And that’s exactly what you did after dinner.

You allowed your husband to push his length inside of you slowly, hearing him groan as your head fell back onto the pillow in complete bliss.

It was game night and Steve invited some of the team over.

You thought it was quite funny to see the world's most powerful heroes lounging around on your couch and eating nachos while animatedly yelling at the flat-screen TV. It was something you’d never get used to and something you also admired about them. How cool it must be to be an Avenger.

While Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Thor watched the New York Mets in the living room, you were preparing snacks in the kitchen with Natasha. She was leaning against the island watching as you fluttered around the kitchen in your pretty flowy dress and apron, heels clicking along the tiles as you went. You had pinned your hair up out of your face since you knew how hot you could get while trying to make several dishes at once.

“I would offer to help you, but we both know how that would end up. Everyone would go home with either an empty stomach or food poisoning.” She snickered.

You smiled at her, waving off her comment. “You know I don’t mind at all, Nat. It may not look very fun, but I actually enjoy cooking. Plus, I love the way it makes Steve’s eyes light up whenever I make something new for him.”

She crossed her arms with a slight frown. “I remember the days when you absolutely hated cooking.” She muttered under her breath, but you heard it, turning to her with a confused look.

“What?” 

You never remember a time when you didn’t enjoy cooking. Steve said it was always something you loved to do for him, even when you were just friends.  

She looked at you with wide eyes as if she herself was surprised at what she was saying. She quickly shook her head and cleared her throat. “Uh, nothing really.”

Her eyes flitted over to the countertop where jars of herbs sat. “Hey, are you still drinking that weird tea that Thor gave you?”

You nodded, continuing to move about the kitchen. “Yep, all the time. In fact, I’m drinking a cup now.” You pointed over to the lavender mug that held the hot beverage. “It was such a great gift and I’m obsessed with it. Steve makes sure to remind me to have a cup every day if I happen to forget. He knows it relaxes me and makes me happy. He’s sweet like that.” You shrugged with a smile.

“I bet he is,” was her reply. Something about her tone felt off but you didn’t mention it. “You do know where that tea was created, right?”

You shook your head lightly, focusing on the hot dish you were pulling out of the oven.  

She continued. “It’s some foreign concoction Thor brought back from Asgard. I’ve never heard of it before but one day, after Steve took you home from your… accident, Thor came back from his realm with a ton of it.”

Your mouth dropped as you glanced at her. “Wait, so you’re telling me I’m drinking tea from another realm? Asgardian tea? Space tea? That’s so exciting!”

You always wondered how you never seemed to run out of the floral and robust tea, the jar of herbs and leaves somehow magically replenishing itself anytime it was getting low. 

Natasha looked like she wanted to say more, but simply sighed, looking like she was contemplating something before digging into her pants pocket. She fished out a small bottle that looked to be filled with pills before walking towards you.

You raised an oven-mitted hand, stopping her in her tracks before swallowing hard. “Natasha…”

“Just hear me out, okay?” She whispered, quickly glancing near the kitchen doorway before bringing her attention back to you. “I know you don’t like when I give these to you but–.”

“No, I don’t.” You interrupted with a frown, sliding off your mitts. “They… they make me feel weird. Strange and not like myself. Plus, you’ve told me to hide them from Steve which is not okay. He’s my husband and I don’t like keeping secrets from him.”

“But they’re good for you, and you know that. That’s why you’re still taking them, right?” 

You said nothing, only avoiding her eyes. She was right. Anytime you took one of the mystery pills you felt... different. It was neither bad nor good, you just felt more aware of things and it frightened you. The first time she gave you the pills you started having nightmares and unusual dreams. 

She told you they weren’t dreams, that they were memories. 

Natasha was a cryptic woman, and she never flat-out told you why she was giving you these pills. She only said that they were to protect you, but protect you from what?

In a split second, you snatched the small bottle out of Nat’s hand and stuffed it into the pocket of your apron.

“You ladies doing alright?”

You nearly jumped when Steve’s familiar timbre cut through the kitchen. You turned your head to see his hefty body leaning against the doorframe as he eyed you both with a raised brow. 

His intense cerulean orbs were planted on Nat for a few seconds longer before sliding over to you.

Nat spoke first. “Yeah, I was just telling your wife here that she needs to get out more. She’s always with you or stuck in this house. She needs a break.”

Steve continued to stare at her, brows furrowed with something akin to annoyance before he straightened to his full height, making his way over to you.

“My baby loves being at home, don’t you?” 

He grabbed your waist and pulled you into a searing kiss, one a bit too inappropriate to do while Nat was observing.

Releasing you from the kiss, he slyly looked over at Nat who stared back at him unimpressed. 

“But you have nothing to worry about. I take care of her very well. She’s happy and safe, just like I said she’d be.” 

There was a slight edge to his voice which made you a bit uncomfortable. You had no clue what was going on between Steve and Natasha but they never really seemed to get along outside of work.

Nat hummed while backing away. “Like I said, she needs a break.” She looked over at you before heading out of the door. “I’m gonna go. Call me soon and we can figure out our next hang.”

You nodded, and once she was gone Steve released his tight hold on you. 

“Everything okay?” you question, rubbing his arm in a soothing manner. 

“Yeah, everything’s good. I just… don’t want to lose you.” He admitted. “You mean everything to me, you know that?”

“You won’t lose me, Steve. There’s no reason why that would ever happen.”

He nodded, embracing you in a hug as he rested his chin on top of your head. “I’ll do anything to protect you, anything to have you here with me.”

When the game was over, you found yourself back in the kitchen cleaning up your mess. You were making your way towards the living room to collect the leftover dirty dishes but slowed as you heard voices mentioning your name.

“Jeez, Cap, what did you do?” This voice sounded like Sam’s. “She’s like a complete one-eighty of the girl I used to know. She went from badass to housewife in a matter of days after that mission.”

You narrowed your eyes in confusion and slight offense.

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You brainwash her or something?” Bucky joked halfheartedly. “You took no time in marrying her after she was released.”

“Tea is the way to a woman’s heart.” Thor chimed in with a chuckle. “and Rogers here has lots of it.”

You didn’t hear Steve’s reply, only backing away and returning to the kitchen in complete mystification.

When you and Steve went to bed that night, you waited for hours to make sure he was in a deep sleep. Hearing his slow, heavy breathing, you carefully peeled his solid arms from around your body, leaving the bed and taking quiet steps to the bathroom down the hall.

Opening the small hidden compartment inside of the bathroom mirror, you shakily removed the bottle of pills before opening it and popping one into your mouth.

You chased it down with a tall glass of water and left the bathroom, returning to bed and falling into a deep sleep.

You woke up with a start, Steve’s worried blue gaze the first thing that greeted you.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” He asked and you frowned in confusion.

You looked down at your sweat-covered body, noticing how fast your heart was beating and how heavy your breaths were.

“I-I don’t know. Um, just another nightmare I guess.” You answered shakily.

Steve frowned in concern. “Alright… let’s get you cleaned up.”

He carried you to the bathroom, filling the tub with warm soapy water before settling you inside.

As Steve gently washed your hair while you sat in the water, he questioned you more about your dream. He wanted to know what had you waking up in a panic.

“It was strange.” You began softly, closing your eyes at the soothing feeling of his fingers on your scalp. “I was at some sort of base, trying to sneak around the place before I was caught. T-they attacked me viciously. There was blood everywhere, and I was blindfolded before I suddenly couldn’t breathe. They had submerged me in some sort of water tank and I was drowning…” you trailed off when you felt Steve’s hands pause in your hair.

You turned around to look at him and he was staring at you with a faraway look in his gaze. 

“Steve?” you called out to him.

His gaze focused back in on you as he looked at you with a serious expression, firmly grabbing your chin.

“Those are just dreams,” He said to you, voice heavy with conviction. “Nothing more, nothing less. Don’t think too hard about them, okay?”

You gave a slow, unsure nod, causing the softness to return to his eyes.

“Now, how about we get your mind off those silly dreams and onto something much more interesting…”

He stood up to strip off his clothes, and before you knew it, he was also in the water with you, lying on his back while his massive hands tightly gripped your hips as you rode him straight to heaven.

Steve’s behavior was getting odd.

He had been acting weird for the past week or so, stalking around the house in silence as if he were looking for something. Whenever you asked him about it, he’d say nothing and simply changed the subject. 

You had been having sex much more frequently, several times a day now and you were getting tired but Steve had unending stamina. You slept later than you used to, only waking up to the sound of him calling your name. You also started feeling more nauseous, and not liking the sound of any of these symptoms, you called Natasha, asking her to pick up a few items from the store and drop them off to you.

You were unable to go yourself because Steve was currently out on a long mission, meaning he couldn’t drive you to the store. You thought about leaving your house and walking but you knew that would just make him upset. Plus, you didn’t want to get his hopes up if you were wrong about what you were dealing with.

Once Nat arrived with the small bag you let her into the house. 

“You don’t think your…” She looked down at your stomach before meeting your eyes with an apprehensive look. 

You shrugged. “I have no idea, that’s why I asked you to buy these tests. If I am that would be great. Steve wants us to have a baby.” You said with a small smile.

She raised a dark red brow at you. “Do you even want kids? Because you sure don’t sound like you do.”

You pursed your lips. “I think so. I don’t know why I wouldn’t want them. It’ll make Steve happy, which in turn will make me happy.”

Nat said nothing at that, eyeing you as you left for the bathroom. 

Closing the door, you took a deep breath before opening the box. You did your business and sat the small stick down on the bathroom counter before washing your hands.

Taking a seat on the side of the tub, you stared at the floor for what seemed like forever. You waited five more minutes for the completed results.

Picking up the test, you took a closer look at it, breathing out a surprising amount of relief when you realized there was only one line that appeared on the pink and white stick.

You hurriedly wrapped the small stick in toilet paper before throwing it in the trash. You exited the bathroom, meeting Nat’s curious gaze. 

“I’m not pregnant.” You breathed. Pushing aside the small pang of guilt you felt, you allowed yourself to smile at the comforting news.

“Nat, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

You glanced around the club full of people as the bass of the music vibrated through your body. 

“Relax,” She said before winking at a passing guy who was eyeing her up and down. The club lights were shining off of her jet-black wig, and you were glad that she was in disguise. You weren’t in the mood to take a whole crowd of people gathering around you to get the Black Widow’s autograph.

“Not being pregnant means you have a ton of liberties you can take that you wouldn’t have been able to otherwise. You’re young and you need to have some fun around other people, not alone in your big empty house. Besides,” She shrugged lightly with a smirk. “your warden’s on a mission for another day or two so you don’t have to be so uptight.”

“Steve’s not my warden, he’s my husband who would probably lose his shit if he knew I was at a club right now.” You defended, giving her an unimpressed look.

“Look, I’m not trying to cause anything between you and Steve, I just want you to have fun. I don’t care if I have to threaten every guy that walks up to you for you to stay.”

As soon as she said that, a random guy walked passed while whistling. “Hey, that chick looks familiar, doesn’t she?” He said to his friend while pointing at you.

Natasha gave them a harsh glare. “Beat it dirt bag, before I rearrange your organs.” 

The guy and his friend swiftly did as they were told and you stared back at her for a moment before your shoulders dropped in defeat. She was right. You needed to learn how to be around other people and unwind. 

“Fine, but we have to get home before Steve finds out.”

“He’s never gonna know.” She granted you a devious smile before waving to the bartender.

“You know what else is great about not being pregnant, besides the having to grow a whole human part?”

You raised your brows at her and she smirked. “Being able to have a nice drink.”

You shook your head at her. “I think I’m gonna start with a couple of mocktails first.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your funeral.”

You both sat at the bar for what seemed like hours. The night was getting late and there were more drunk people dancing all over the club. Lights flashed and the music blared even louder. 

You were surprised that you were still able to hear Nat’s voice over all the commotion. 

“...so that’s when I jumped from the plane and landed on the tarmac. I took those hydra agents all by surprise and shot them down one by one.” She took a sip of what was her fourth drink since you’ve both been here. “But don’t worry, I didn’t kill them. Just injured them enough for them not to be in our way. We captured them right after.”

“Wow,” you said, truly mesmerized by her story. It was so vivid as if you could picture being there with her. “That’s insane! It must be so damn cool to be an Avenger. I mean, you get to travel the world while kicking bad guys' asses, and you get to work with people like Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Name a cooler job than that.” You shook your head in awe. “Sometimes I find myself being jealous that Steve has such a cool job and I’m just stuck at home all the time. I love him, but I just find myself wanting more sometimes, you know?”

Nat’s expression turned sad as she stared at you before setting her drink down on the bar top. “You used to… you used to have that too.”

You blinked, not understanding her. “Have what?”

She looked into the crowd of bodies, expression sobering up before her eyes met yours again. 

“You used to be one of us. An Avenger.”

You stared back at her for a moment before laughter bubbled up in your chest. However, it died down once you realized she was being completely serious.

“You were one of the best. We all admired you. Steve admired you.”

“Nat…”

“He used to love going on missions with you. Back then, you two were the best of friends. But then one day, things changed. Every single time you came back from a mission injured, Steve was right there helping you. He was the one carrying you, the one that got more and more angry as time passed.” Her jaw clenched. “It’s part of the job, right? You go out to save the world knowing that you’ll probably get hurt. Knowing that there’s a small chance that you may not return the way you left. Knowing that you may not return at all. And Steve couldn’t handle that. Not when it came to you. You both had a big fight the day you left for Siberia. That’s when you’re accident happened.”

She searched your eyes with a frown. “He’s attempted to rewrite your whole life after that. I don’t know what he’s told you but you got really hurt that day. You tried to prove a point to him by leaving before the rest of us. By the time we caught up to you at the base, you almost drowned which resulted in a substantial amount of memory loss.” She let out a humorless laugh, picking up her drink again. “And that’s all it took for Steve to take advantage of the situation, whisking you away to brainwash you. Molding you into the perfect little wife you are now.”

Your hands shook as your hard gaze focused on the drink in her hand. “Nat… you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, maybe so, but I’m not a liar.” She retorted. 

You shook your head, facing contorting into a look of disgust. “If Steve is taking advantage of me like you say he is, why did you just allow that? Why did anyone allow that? The team is over our house all the time and no one’s said a word.”

Guilt appeared in her green eyes as she looked down at her lap. “Steve… convinced us. Most of us, at least. He said he would take care of you and we believed him. We almost lost you. We were scared for you and let him take you away, trusting that he wouldn’t cause you any harm. We all knew he cared for you, we all knew he loved you. Though, we didn’t think he’d go to this extreme.”

You swallowed hard. “And the pills?”

“They counteract the effects from that Asgardian tea Thor’s been sending you to keep you in a pliant state of amnesia. The pills have a formula that helps your brain form more memories, and they are also a form of birth control that doesn’t show up in your system. Medical professionals can’t see it.” She looked at you sadly. “You didn’t want children and from what I can tell, you still don’t.”

You felt like you were going to throw up as you tried to comprehend what she was saying. “Steve’s been giving me the tea to keep my memories away?”

She nodded. “Yes, Steve convinced Thor that it would be good for you. No one wanted to see the traumatic state you’d be in when you eventually remembered everything. We all cared for you and we still do.”

Your jaw clenched. “If you cared for me as you say you do, you wouldn’t have let him just… just take me!” You exclaimed. “If everything you’re saying is true, then you’re just as bad as Steve. Don’t try and pretend like you’re saving me just because you slipped me a bunch of pills.”

She slowly nodded her head. “I know, I’m not a good person, but I’m trying to fix that. I really am. I wanted you to gain your memories back yourself. If I had told you without showing you any proof, you wouldn’t have believed me. Steve has his claws stuck so deep within you that I had to do something drastic.”

You shut your eyes, turning your head away from her. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

She gazed at you long and hard before looking away. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be telling you this anyway.”

She pushed her drink towards you, gesturing down to it. “Here, you’ve had enough mocktails for the night. Have a real drink,” She patted your arm before hopping out of her seat. “I think you need it more than I do.”

She strolled off in the direction of the ladies' restrooms, leaving you alone at the bar with just your thoughts and a glass of alcohol. You warily glanced down at the drink before slowly picking it up. 

It was barely a centimeter away from your mouth before a strong hand harshly snatched it away from your grasp. You gasped as it was thrown onto the hard floor, shattering into a million pieces. The few people around who noticed were staring at you, but they quickly left to mind their own business.

You slowly looked up from the floor, meeting a familiar pair of furious blue eyes. 

“S-steve?”

He glared at you intensely, dark brows deeply furrowed and lips pressed in a tight thin line.

“I-I can explain-”

“How do you think I felt when I arrived home early to surprise my wife and to be met with an empty house,” His voice was deep, anger carrying in his words. “only to find her dressed like a slut at a fucking bar out of all places.”

You swallowed, never having witnessed Steve be this upset with you. He never cursed at you no matter how mad he was.

You shook your head. “It’s not what you think,”

“Oh, I know exactly what this is,” he said, slowly nodding his head. “You’re coming home with me. Now.” 

He reached out to grab you but you backed away. “No, I-I don’t want to.” Everything Nat had drunkenly confessed to you was finally setting in.

He said nothing at that, simply taking hold of your arm and dragging you out of the club so fast that you stumbled in your high heels. 

Annoyed by your slowness, he tossed you over his shoulder and carried you to his car. He quickly buckled you in before getting into the driver's seat and driving off.

The car ride was filled with a deafening silence but once you got home, you stomped into the house with Steve right on your heels. He grabbed you, spinning you around to face him.

“What the hell was that back there?” He asked gruffly. “Why are you throwing a tantrum? Is this your way of saying you want to get out more? All you had to do was say so.”

“Yeah, what would you say, Steve? Tell me that it’s too dangerous for me to be out in the world and that I’m safer at home? I’ve already heard that excuse a million times.”

He took a slow, deep breath, eyeing your tired face. “This is Natasha’s doing, isn’t it?”

You scoffed, throwing a hand in the air. “No, it’s your doing! You basically kidnapped me Steve!” you yelled at him and his eyes widened. He looked to be taken aback. 

“You lied to me about how we met and what I was doing before my accident, brainwashed me into thinking that we’re this perfect loving couple.” Hot angry tears built up in your eyes. “Y-you tried to get me pregnant even though you knew that I never wanted kids.”

He shook his head, inching closer to you. “I didn’t try to get you pregnant,” He stated before pulling out a small object from his pants pocket. You blinked away your tears, getting a better look at what was in his hand. 

The small object was a pregnancy test. Your pregnancy test that now showed two prominent lines instead of one. “I did.”

You were at a loss for words, gaping at Steve as he looked at you with so much hurt in his eyes. “And there you were at the bar, trying to poison yourself, trying to harm your body, trying to kill our child.”

More tears spilled down your face as you started backing away from him. This was it. He got what he wanted.

“You didn’t think I’d notice your little happy pills in the bathroom cabinet? I took the liberty of switching them to placebos weeks ago. You were consuming sugar pills, baby, ” He sneered.

“You’re mistaken if you think you can ever hide anything from me. I knew that Nat was snooping around, telling you things that she had no business telling you. I knew those nightmares you were having were memories of your last mission. Do you remember now? The one where you stupidly ran off without me and almost got yourself killed?”

“No..”

“And guess who saved you? Who got to you first? It was me! I’m the one who had to hold your cold, lifeless body as I tried to breathe air back into your lungs. I’m the one who wrapped your wounds and carried you back to the compound.”  He sniffled, tears building up in his beautiful crystal blue eyes as he pointed to his chest. “I’m the one who was there when you first opened your eyes and didn’t recognize who I was. You didn’t remember me, and that was the second worst day of my life.”

You shook your head at him. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am, but I’m not the woman you’re trying your hardest to turn me into. If I didn’t want to be with you then, then I shouldn’t be with you now.”

His face sobered up at that and a strange glint appeared in his gaze. “I did all of this to protect you, to keep you safe. You almost died. Do you know how badly that affected me?” He shook his head, nostrils flaring. “You’re insane if you think you’re just going to walk away from me. You’re my wife. I have you and now our child to care for, and I’d happily die before I’d ever let you go.”

You let out a shaky breath, nearing the stairs. “You're crazy, Steve.”

He let out a humorless laugh and shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s all for you.”

You bolted up the stairs, Steve hot on your tail. You barely reached the bedroom before he caught you. 

You thrashed around in his firm hold. “Let me go!” 

He ignored your constant pleas, only pushing you further into the room before closing the door and locking it. With one arm around you and the other on the doorknob, he crushed it with just a squeeze of his hand, deforming the lock.

He was doing everything in his power to make sure you didn’t escape.

He placed you onto the bed and you were flat on your back as he sat atop you. Letting your arms go, he held your face in his hands, searching your eyes as if he were looking for something that wasn’t there. 

“Baby, you have to calm down. Let me show you how much I love you. Let me take care of you, everything will be okay.”

“No!” Your palm sharply met his cheek, the sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberating in the room.

Steve’s head was slightly tilted to the side as he blinked, his mouth forming into a thin line. He no longer looked like the happy, caring husband he was pretending to be before. He looked unfamiliar. Darker. 

You warily watched him as he turned his dark gaze towards you, pupils larger than you’ve ever seen them before. “That didn’t hurt me, and you know it, but it’s about the principle of it.”

You let out a shaky breath as he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. “I tried to go the easy route, tried to make things better for you, but you didn’t want that, did you?”

“Steve, no…”

“It’s too late, baby. You’re in our bed and pregnant with our child, and I couldn’t be happier.” His voice was husky, sounding anything but happy. He leaned down towards you, lips lightly brushing against your trembling ones. “Let me show you.” He whispered.

Before you knew it, your dress was being torn off of your body, Steve clawing at you like a wild animal. You whimpered as he stripped off his dark henley and jeans.

“Steve, stop! I don’t want this!” His hands were all over your body, groping and caressing you. You closed your eyes as calloused fingers grazed over your clit.

“It doesn’t matter what you want anymore, not if you were planning to leave me.”

Those were the last words you heard before he slid his cock into your embarrassingly wet core. You gasped as he slowly thrust into you, keeping a steady but mind-bending pace. You didn’t know if he was being gentle because of the baby inside of you, or if it was because he knew you liked it that way. The answer was probably both.

You wanted to claw at his back, but he held your wrists down above your head. You renewed your struggle and he gained his pace, hips slapping into yours while he buried his face in your neck, moaning your name.

“There’s no one better than me. No one can do what I do for you. No one else can take care of you like I do,” He whispered harshly. “Or fuck you like I do, and you know it.”

It was hard to deny his claim as he pounded into your g spot over and over again, causing you to mewl out his name.

He lifted his head, gazing down at you. “I’m going to continue to show you how much you need me. Every single night, until it's branded in your mind. You won’t ever try to leave me again, right?”

He pinched your nipple, causing you to let out a satisfying gasp, back arching as your body rocked with every slam of his hips against yours.

“Right?” He repeated more firmly, bass in his strong voice.

As you looked into his dark and determined gaze, you had no choice but to nod your head, walls squeezing around his cock like a vice.

“Y-yes, Steve.”

“Good girl.” He purred. “After I fuck some sense back into you, I’m gonna give you a nice hot mug of your favorite tea so you can calm down.”

He nodded as if he was trying to convince himself, “but for now you’re gonna take my cock like the good little obedient wife you are.”

DarkSerenity's Masterlist

✦ 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰. 𝘙𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 ;)

✦ 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘒𝘰-𝘧𝘪 ✨: 𝘩𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘴://𝘬𝘰-𝘧𝘪.𝘤𝘰𝘮/𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺24

[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.

[mariaxxxxx]

Blackberry (Steve Rogersx fem!reader)

Summary: You shouldn't have had too much to drink at that party, honey. (+18)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, virgin!reader, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, good ending, somnophille, slight degradation, duvious consent, menstrual sex, pregnancy, arranged marriage, inexperienced reader, abortion commented, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words.

series masterlist

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

A/N: The following chapter has graphic descriptions of non-consensual sex. I ask that you carefully observe the warnings to avoid triggers.

The party at the Stark mansion was a success as always. The cream of society was made up of businesspeople and new candidates for a seat in the American Congress. Dresses and hats fluttered in the cool spring breeze. You devoured a bowl of sugared blackberries, leaning against the bar counter, while watching your parents talk with friends animatedly about some topic involving economics and money. For God! You were so bored not even one of your friends decided to join you in this den of ostentation and hypocrisy.

And nothing, no matter how exciting it was to be in a superhero's house, could appease the enormous boredom that consumed his insides. Not even alcohol could keep you company at this point, your father would die before allowing a drop of alcohol to wet his tongue, so you were left with sugary blackberries that proved to be a good aphrodisiac on a hot afternoon.

You swallowed the last blackberry and left the empty bowl on the counter. He walked to his mother and whispered ‘’I’m going for a walk’’ in her ear and left the room before his mother could retort. You easily dodged the hundreds of guests and headed to the farthest drinks tent where an efficient bartender was juggling. The tent was outside, near a clump of trees, away from the watchful eyes of his parents.

“A blackberry margarita, please.” You asked, leaning slightly over the ivory surface.

"Identity." He asked.

“I didn’t bring it, but I guarantee that I’m of legal age.” You smiled as convincingly as you could, but he didn't seem inclined to help you. You rolled your eyes. “I’ll give you 100 bucks for the drinks.”

The bartender looked at You in disbelief. You felt internally angry; The childish features still hadn't left his face like the cute cheeks and plump lips, and that always got him into trouble.

“Not happening, girl.”

"Please! This party is a big mess, if you know what I mean. I need to stuff my face or I’m going to go crazy.”

Again he looked at her in disbelief. He was probably one of those people who only saw parts published in gossip magazines about young heirs who got into trouble.

"It went badly."

You sighed. Your father didn't even let you bring your cell phone. It was not polite, in his opinion, for a rich girl to interrupt an important conversation because of a message.

“A straight whiskey, please.” The deep voice next to him. “And a blackberry margarita.”

Without having to present ID or leave a tip to guarantee efficient service, the man, the damn Captain America, got both orders at incredible speed. The only thing You could think about was how tall and handsome he was.

"Here." He handed her the drink. “I got the impression that you forgot your identity and are being massacred by the damn bureaucracy.”

You smiled; by the drink and the wording so changing coming from a man considered by many to be an American God.

“Thank you, Captain.” You said as you took a sip of your drink.

“Steve. Just Steve.” He said taking a generous sip of his own drink. “I hope he really is of age. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

"Right. Steve. Just Steve.” You repeated with a mischievous smile. “I promise I will show you my ID as soon as possible.”

“What’s your name, pretty girl?”

You found yourself smiling and blushing at such a flippant compliment coming from such a divine man. You told him your name.

“A beautiful and delicate name. It suits you." He took another generous sip of his Whiskey and you took advantage and drank some more of your drink. It was sweet and went down as light as water.

“How can I thank you for the drink?” You asked.

"Talk to me."

You drank more of your blackberry margarita.

"About what?"

"Anything. Just… entertain me at this boring party.”

“Anything…” You took another sip. “As long as we can help ourselves to one more of these.” You got ready for your now empty glass.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Steve said, finishing the whiskey with a hint of a smile on his lips.

At some point, between conversations and glasses of margarita, Steve convinced you to show him every corner of the mansion. You accepted, looking excited about taking a tour with such a handsome man by your side. You and Steve left the tent, avoiding curious glances and boring conversations. He showed you the room where the Avengers met, the works of art that Tony insisted on buying, the training room and finally a long corridor with similar doors. He opened one of them and you entered a large room without windows, with a large sofa in the center, a minibar, a large TV that took up the entire wall and a strange device that you thought was a stereo.

It was large, clean and richly decorated. It felt like a sanctuary for leisure time. Steve pointed to the sofa and you sat down, he went to the minibar and returned with a bottle of reddish liquid. He sat down next to her.

  “Do you want to drink more”? He reached out his hand, wrapping his long fingers around the bottleneck. He extended this to You as if it were not a trap that You were about to willingly fall into. “It’s a liqueur made with blackberries. I got it from a senator at a party at the White House. I noticed how much You like the fruit and I would like You to try it.”

You had already had too much to drink. There were glasses and more glasses of margaritas, and you already felt your body a little soft, but you couldn't refuse the proposal of a man as beautiful as that. The man who sacrificed a lot for this nation. It's just a drink, You thought. Getting drunk next to Captain America, who is a hero, is a much better idea than getting drunk alone in a mansion. And you loved blackberries.

"Yes please." You mumbled, and Steve looked so proud of your response. He poured you a generous dose of drink. You drank. It was strong and very concentrated, very different from your sweet and light margherita. You didn't care you just drank more while Steve looked at You with a big smile. Beautiful. It was a beautiful smile.

One drink turned into two, then three and four.

“You’re blushing.” He smiled, he said drinking some of the liquor. “Your first kiss wasn’t that bad.”

You didn't notice. But You started sharing very personal things with Steve; You told him how your first kiss, as a child, was a disaster with a classmate you liked. You said how it was drooling and clumsy.

"It was horrible". You made a cart.” I did it because my friends wanted it. I should have waited longer.”

You don't feel it, but your knees spread of their own accord as a warm hand, not yours, lifts your dress a little and exposes the inside of your thigh and begins to massage in gentle circles as you finish another glass, laughing hard. , the heat growing whenever he got closer.

“A girl as beautiful as you should have someone.” He says in a reprimanding tone. He was close, very close. You drank more.

“No” You laugh, louder than usual, You feel so good, so light. But you feel a wave of disappointment wash over your body when you remember that you had no one. She couldn't even remember the last time she was touched or praised by the opposite sex.

“With such a beautiful face like that, it’s hard to believe.” He smiled. “Such a beautiful body and...”

He pauses.

“And…” You encourage him to continue.

“With breasts as beautiful as yours, I’m sure everyone…” He stops, looking embarrassed, his hand on your thigh about a little more. "Forgive me. This is inappropriate.

"No." You say quickly, urgently, although more slurred than usual.” I don't mind. You can praise them.”

"No?" He asks, his voice perfectly steady, with fake surprise behind it. Had you and he already had so much to drink because he didn't seem any different? “Would you mind showing them? I would love to see."

You shake your head and mumble no. With one hand, the other held the glass of drink, You released the bows on your dress that held your breasts, You didn't wear a bra, you didn't need them to make your breasts look beautiful, something you were secretly proud of. Her breasts bounce out towards him.

Steve reaches out his hand and gives it a nice squeeze. You let out a small moan at the intimate touch.

“I want to suck your six.” He blurts out.

His smile disappears, mostly in shock at such a bold revelation. But a part, a big part, of you feels flattered that Captain America wants to play with your breasts and all you wanted at that moment was for him to touch you.

"All good." You mumble in a slurred, broken voice.

Steve pushes your body until his head is between your breasts. You feel him take a deep breath, smelling you, his right hand grabs one of your breasts. He tilts his head and wraps his lips around your closest nipple.

The sensation is strange, it tickles, cold, but it warms up quickly. You had never felt someone do it like this before, it was much more like a brief lick or a clumsy and seductive suck like many boys did. But with Steve it was different. He was grasping as if trying to extract fluid that will never come out. He moans lewdly. You drop the glass and place your hand under his blonde locks, pressing his head against your breasts.

“Steve.” You let out a moan as he takes a long nip before releasing your breasts in a wet pop.

  “Where is your glass?” He asks.

You don't respond, because you're too oblivious to pay attention to his words. His body was hot, his vision blurred and his nipples hard and sensitive. You were oblivious when you felt Steve put a full glass in your hands, he mumbled a drink and you obeyed, wanting to leave him satisfied.

You drank more. Maybe four or five or six more glasses. You do not remember. The last one ended up kind of spilled because you couldn't hold it while Steve helped you take off his dress. You feel his head being placed on a soft pillow or perhaps a cushion, You couldn't tell; his vision was blurred and his senses were weak. Warm hands slide down your legs to your panties and gently remove them. Your blurred vision is bathed in the sight of Steve shirtless on top of you. Beautiful. He was so beautiful.

You're moaning and shaking with nervousness, or at least you would be if his grip wasn't holding you in place. Her pussy burned with heat and desire, it was like rough sandpaper that moved in and out, swinging a seesaw from hell.

“It hurts.” You mutter. You were a mess and you know it, the words come out slow and slurred. Humiliation rises deeper than pleasure can reach, and disgust crawls over your skin with a sheen of sweat. He had touched her before. Stimulating your clit until you came on his long fingers, but it wasn't enough, it never would be. He was big and thick, with powerful hips that caused her great pain with each thrust.

You weren’t expecting it when he tilted his hips just to rub the fat head of his cock against your aching pussy. You moan at the small shock waves caused by the brief contact with your clit, but he smothers your moans with a wet, hot kiss, taking away your oxygen. He shoved his cock back inside her ripped hole.

He moaned against You, his mouth open panting, as if he was feeling something that You didn't. The intrusion not only stretches, but burns and hurts. Dry fiction mixes with rough movement. The tears flow, You feel the wet trail they leave on your cheeks. The disorientation left You dizzy and contained, a prisoner of your own body, but that didn't stop Him from exerting his strength against You. He was heavy. Upon noticing your whimpering, the hand that was on your hips goes up to cover your mouth, spreading tears and saliva everywhere.

“It’s okay, my love.” He said between moans. “You are so beautiful and as sweet as berries.”

The blackberries. The damn blackberries were the ones who brought her here. Steve gives another powerful thrust, preventing any further thought. You scream into his hand. He begins to fuck with desire, with strong thrusts, riding his own release. You moan, writhe, scream when a sensation begins to blossom at the tip of your toes that rises to your abdomen causing your muscles to contract slightly and then relax. Steve doesn't stay far behind, he pulls out of your pussy and with one last thrust spills all of his semen inside of you.

You are sleeping too deeply to understand, but not too deeply not to hear. You hear some loud footsteps, a door closes, before you feel someone approaching.

"Mommy." You speak as you sit up, try to open your eyes, your mind is still spinning. A great light hits your eyes and you close them quickly. Little by little you open your eyes slowly until you get used to it.

You wish your mother had killed the man who enchanted you with smiles and drinks so that you would give yourself to him, you may fear that strange conversation and the lectures, but you longed for your mother's safety and her lap. But it wasn't his mother who was sitting next to him. It was him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He says as he brushes the strands of hair out of your face. “Your parents are a little upset now, but they will get over it little by little, you'll see. They will be happy for their little daughter who has won over the national hero and is about to walk down the aisle.”

"What are you talking about?" You say roughly, trying to get up, but the quick action made your body weaken. Steve picks you up and sits back down on the couch.

“I will take care and spoil you a lot, my love. You will see. I will fill you with gifts and love. We're gonna have a lot of fun." Steve says with a scary look on his face.

"You are crazy." You say in tears. “My parents will...”

"Do not worry about a thing." He pulls away and stands up, walking over to the minibar counter where a red bowl awaits him. He pities her and returns to You. “I'm already taking care of everything. All You need to do now is eat.”

Fear flooded your body You had already trusted that man and look what happened, but You had already seen too many documentaries and police series to know how much this type of person hated being contradicted. Maybe being his sweet, obedient girl would provide you with some benefit. With your body shaking, you stretched to see the contents of that bowl. A sound of disgust escaped his mouth when he realized they were blackberries.

[allherfuckingtears]

Got a secret, can you keep it?

Summary: Certain news leave you devastated as you walk into the hands of your not so gentle husband.

Characters: dark!Steve Rogers x wife!reader

Warnings: non/dubcon elements, allusion to sexual content, violence, (forced) pregnancy, power imbalance, dark elements

This story contains dark elements, be aware. 18+

Note: Just a little something for @cockslutpadalecki 15 sentence challenge. Haven't written anything in a long time, so bare with me.

__________________________________________

Soft snowflakes dance down the sky, landing on three inch blankets of snow covering once pristine green gras. The suns shines proudly, making the snow glisten like the 24-carat diamond resting heavy on your ring finger. But even the beautiful scenery doesn't reach you. A picture that once would have made you smile like a child on Christmas, now only suffocates you further. Fingers play with the tiny charm on your necklace, a nervous habit picked up when you were younger, as you stare out of the window of your prison, trying desperately to keep the tears and screams inside as the two blue lines mock you. 

You refuse to accept your fate. It can't be true. Not again. 

Tiny hands grab onto your forearm. "Mommy, Mommy", the voice startles you. "What is that?", curious fingers fish for the plastic stick sitting next to you. 

"Nothing, Jay", you push the test out of his reach, as it disappears in your back pocket. "Don't worry about it, baby." 

"Mommy, you've been crying! Why have you been crying?"

"What…" Your fingers meet wet cheeks. - You have been crying. "No, no", you stumble on your words, desperately wiping your face. "I'm okay"

"But you… you've been crying!" The blue eyes looking down at you start to glisten as James' voice turns shrill. 

Panic rises as you desperately try to placate the little human in front of you. You sush him as you pull him down on the floor and into your lap, "Mommy's fine - see", you force a smile on your lips. "Everything's fine, baby. It's okay", you whisper into his hair as tiny arms wrap around your throat. "Have you seen the snow? It's crazy, look", you turn him towards the window. 

"So pretty…" he mumbles, eyes gleaming. "Maybe we can go out and play?" Excitement rises and he's out of your arms and in front of the window before you can even blink. "Please, Mommy!"

"Sure, Jay. But you'll have to wear something warm, okay? It's very cold outside" Standing up you brace yourself on the wall as your head spins.

"Not Jay, Mommy. James. Daddy doesn't like it", he scolds you, voice serious.

A shudder crawls down your spine at the mention of his father. You swallow as you look at the blonde toddler, his spitting image. "Daddy, doesn't have to know".

"Daddy doesn't have to know what?", a deep voice echoes. You jump turning around, heart beating as Steve stands in the doorway. 

"Daddy!", the little boy in front of you squeals, running into the arms of his father. Steve scoops him up off the floor as his cold eyes meet yours. You gulp. 

"Steve…", the whisper escapes you before you can think of what you actually want to say. He's not supposed to be here. Not for the next four hours. Bile rises in the back of your throat as the plastic stick stabs you in your lower back. You're going to vomit, you're sure of it. He looks at you expectantly, gaze turning sterner when you don't move. When you don't greet him like he trained you to. 

"Y/N", his voice snaps, jaw ticking. "Now." 

But you can't. You can't. If you go to him now, if you give him the kiss he wants from you, he'll feel it. He'll feel the test. He'll know and there will be nothing you can do about it. No escaping your fate. Just like the last two times. You know you're done for when he lowers Jay on the ground, gaze still on you. 

"Go, check on your brother, James." He dismisses the boy. Jay looks at you before turning and running through the door. Leaving you alone. To unknowingly suffer at the hand of his father. 

"Kneel", the command comes as soon as his son is out of sight. "Before I fucking make you." You know you have no choice. If you don't do as he says, then he'll make you. This way, you might at least get a chance to hide the doom lingering in the back of your pocket once you inevitably have to ready yourself for your punishment. 

"Steve, please…", you plead as your knees hit the floor. You resume the familiar position, eyes down, palms up. You know exactly what to do. At this point it's basic instinct, a second nature forced onto you for the last four years. A barely audible whisper leaves your lips, a final entreaty before you inescapably have to give into his perverse fantasies, "Please… I'm sorry".

Colds hands find your chin, making you look at him. His thumb catches on your lip, pushing into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, tongue swirling around the digit. Eyes pleading with him. His thumb presses on your tongue before he releases it with a loud pop. "Go on, baby. You know it's more fun for me when you beg."

[shybluebirdninja]

MASTERLIST

James 'Logan' Howlett (The Wolverine)

Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier)

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 1

Started a new AU called Affectionate Obsession, with Steve Rogers as the first Character Story Series to be told I hope you all enjoy and don't be afraid to tell me what you think.

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Warnings:

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

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

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

Story Masterlist

The low hum of the factory machinery buzzed in my ears as I sat in the breakroom, staring at the sad sandwich I’d slapped together this morning. How did I end up here? After years of hard work and late-night study sessions, my Finance degree didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Instead of crunching numbers and living the life I’d dreamed of, I was here—packaging cardboard boxes and watching my future slip away.

I glanced down at my phone, a knot forming in my throat. Rent was coming up in two weeks, and I had no idea how I was going to scrape the money together. The thought of moving back in with my parents twisted my stomach in knots. No way could I go back to their judgmental looks, the snide remarks about my life choices, or their constant need to belittle everything I’ve done. I'd rather sleep on a park bench than deal with that.

My phone buzzed on the table, jolting me from my thoughts. I looked down at the screen and felt my heart sink a little deeper.

Sharon.

Of all the people who could be reaching out, she was the last person I expected—or wanted—to hear from. We hadn’t spoken since graduation, and that was by design. Things between us hadn’t ended well, and the fact that she was contacting me now couldn’t mean anything good.

With a sigh, I swiped to answer. "Hello?"

"Wow, you actually picked up," Sharon's voice dripped with that same smugness that always made me grit my teeth. "I wasn’t sure if you were still alive."

I rolled my eyes, immediately regretting answering. "Yeah, still kicking. How are you?" I shot back, not even trying to hide my sarcasm.

"Fabulous, of course." Her voice was so sugary sweet it made my stomach churn. "Anyway, I’ll get to the point. A few of us are going on a trip—Maldives. One-month private villa. You should come."

I blinked, trying to process what she’d just said. A month-long vacation in the Maldives? Out of nowhere?

"Uh… I don’t think I can," I muttered, the discomfort rising up my spine. "I’m working right now, and I can’t afford a trip like that."

There was a brief silence, followed by Sharon’s familiar, annoyed huff. "Steve’s paying for everything, so don’t worry about that."

As if money was the only issue. I shook my head, feeling my frustration rise. "It’s not just about money. I can’t take off from work for two months."

"Why not?" she snapped, sounding genuinely confused, like the concept of having to work to survive was foreign to her. "Just quit."

I almost laughed at how ridiculous she sounded. "I can’t just quit, Sharon. I need this job. Some of us actually have bills to pay."

"Whatever," she sighed, clearly losing interest. "Look, if you change your mind, you’ve got three months to figure it out. We’re leaving in July."

I clenched my jaw, fighting back a smart remark. "I’ll let you know."

And with that, she hung up.

I stared at the phone, my mind spinning. Why now? Why was Sharon suddenly interested in inviting me on this extravagant trip after all this time? After everything that happened?

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I shook off the nagging feeling. Whatever she and her clique were up to, I wasn’t about to fall for it. Not this time.

I had more pressing things to worry about—like making it through the rest of my shift without falling apart.

***

Three weeks after Sharon’s call, I found myself standing in the manager’s office, trying to make sense of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Budget cuts,” Diane said flatly, as if that explained everything.

“But I’m the only one being fired,” I pointed out, confusion mixing with anger. “How does that make sense?”

Diane shrugged, clearly uninterested. “It’s just how things are.”

I knew better than to push back too much, but it still gnawed at me. Budget cuts? No way. This factory wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, but I’d seen plenty of new hires lately. So why me?

As I walked out of her office, I thought back to the time I’d corrected Diane on… well, something trivial. She’d been going on about a new process we had to follow, and I’d pointed out a mistake in her instructions. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. I remembered she’d gone all red in the face, tight-lipped, and I could tell she didn’t appreciate being corrected, but it seemed like she was over it.

Did she have something to do with this? It didn’t make sense. I was practically invisible at the factory. Why would she care?

Still, it stung. Whatever the real reason, I was out of a job.

A few weeks later, my luck hadn’t changed. I spent every waking moment job hunting, praying something would come through before the end of the month. But it didn’t.

When it became clear I couldn’t afford my rent anymore, I had to make a decision: drown in debt or swallow my pride and move back in with my parents.

I hated the idea. But bills were piling up, and the pressure was too much, so I chose my parents.

The moment I walked through the door with my boxes, my mom took it upon herself to help me unpack—which, of course, meant a nonstop commentary on all the poor decisions I’d made in life.

“I told you this would happen,” she said, folding one of my shirts with military precision. “You never listen. You should have stayed closer to home, gone into something practical. But no, you wanted to follow your dreams.”

I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to snap. It was always the same speech: how I should’ve done this, should’ve done that. As if I didn’t feel bad enough already. But I stayed quiet, nodding along while she reminded me just how incapable I was.

I’d been living with my parents for a month and a half now, and I was at my breaking point. Their constant nagging, the tension, the way they hovered over me—it was driving me insane. I needed out.

One week before Sharon and the girls were set to leave for the Maldives, I caved. Desperation took over, and I found myself texting Sharon, asking if there was still space for me on the trip.

Honestly, I didn’t expect her to respond. But then, there it was: a yes. Along with a list of things to pack and an address of where to meet them.

I stared at my phone in disbelief for a second. I was actually going to do this. Anything to get away from my parents.

When I told them about the trip, their reaction was immediate approval. Of course, the second they heard Sharon and Steve would be there, they were practically pushing me out the door.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” my mom beamed. “Sharon’s such a successful young woman. You should really try to get back on her good side.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course they loved Sharon. She was everything they wanted me to be—successful, put together, and always in the right circles. And Steve? They practically worshiped the guy. The heir to a tech empire. Who wouldn’t?

“Just make sure there’s no more falling outs this time,” my dad added, like I’d ever intentionally ruined things with Sharon.

I remembered the first time I told them about our fallout. They acted like I’d told them I was addicted to drugs, and they never really forgave me for it.

Now, it seemed I was being given a second chance to make everything “right.”

And honestly? I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but at this point, I’d do anything to get away from here.

***

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole trip might be some elaborate prank. I half-expected to show up and find a hidden camera crew waiting to embarrass me. But here I was, standing in front of a private jet, struggling with my heavy luggage.

“Need a hand?” a man’s voice cut through my thoughts. Before I could even respond, he was already taking my bags, prying them from my grip with an ease that felt almost dismissive.

"Uh, thanks," I muttered, watching him haul the luggage up the steps of the jet. Was this even real?

Inside, Sharon was waiting, her bright smile as fake as I remembered. “Kiwi! Oh my God, look at you!” Her eyes swept over me, lingering on all the wrong places. “Still… you,” she added, her tone too sharp to be anything close to nice.

“Yeah,” I replied, biting back the instinct to roll my eyes. Same old Sharon. Still poking at me for being shorter and curvier than the rest of them. “Still me.”

I looked to Natasha, Jane and Pepper and waved before following them into the Private Jet.

Sharon smirked, gesturing toward the jet's sleek interior. “Welcome aboard. I bet it’s been a while since you’ve ridden in anything like this?”

I didn’t bother with a response. There were a million reasons why I didn’t fly on private jets, one being that I couldn’t afford too, but it wasn’t worth the energy. I followed Sharon inside, catching sight of the group lounging around like they belonged there.

Steve was the first to greet me, his golden hair practically glowing in the soft light as he flashed that easy smile. “Hey, Kiwi,” he said, patting the seat beside him. His tone was friendly—maybe a little too friendly—but I hesitated. Before I could move, Natasha grabbed my arm and steered me toward a different seat.

“We saved you a spot over here!” Natasha chimed, squeezing my arm with just a bit too much excitement. She shot a quick glance at Steve, then back at me, like there was something I wasn’t picking up on.

Peter was already seated across from me, leaning back with a casual confidence that made me uncomfortable. His dark eyes met mine for a split second, and he gave a small nod. There was nothing awkward or out of place about him—if anything, he looked like he belonged here. Like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Glad you could make it,” Peter said, his voice smooth and low. There was something about the way he said it, something that felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The conversations around me were light, but every now and then, I’d catch something—a quick glance between Steve and Peter, a soft chuckle from one of the boys, or Sharon’s eyes sparkling with something that wasn’t amusement. It felt like they were all in on something, like the air was thick with an inside joke I wasn’t a part of.

I tried to brush it off, joining in on the small talk and ignoring the strange tension. But with every shared look between the boys, every lingering gaze from Sharon, that unease just kept creeping back.

It was like they were waiting for something.

Something I wasn’t in on.

***

I stirred awake to the gentle shake of my shoulder and a soft voice calling my name. “Hey, Kiwi, we’ve landed,” Natasha said, with a small grin, wiping her own hands on her lap. “You’ve got a little drool there.”

Still groggy, I wiped at the side of my mouth, feeling my face flush as I tried to erase the evidence of my nap. I sat up, blinking a few times, trying to get my bearings. When I looked around, I noticed the plane was emptier than before.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.

Natasha stretched, her arms raising above her head. “They already headed to the villa. I guess they didn’t want to disturb you.”

I glanced over at Peter, still slouched in his seat, eyes closed, completely knocked out. The soft rise and fall of his chest made him look so peaceful, like the weight of the world wasn’t even a concern. He hadn’t noticed anything either.

Natasha smirked, shrugging. “I felt bad leaving you two alone, so I stayed back.”

I looked between Natasha and Peter, my stomach twisting. “Oh… right,” I muttered, feeling a familiar awkwardness settle over me. My head dropped slightly. It wasn’t the first time I felt like an outsider with these people, but moments like this seemed to make it worse.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but she gave me a look, one that spoke volumes without needing words. Then she moved toward Peter, giving him a nudge. He jolted awake, eyes wide as if he had no idea where he was. “Where is everyone?” he asked, his voice a little too casual.

Natasha repeated the same thing she told me, though this time, there was a teasing edge to her tone. “They left for the villa, but I didn’t want to leave you two sleeping on the plane.”

Peter ran a hand through his messy hair, giving a lazy stretch before standing up. I wondered if I was overthinking things, but Natasha’s earlier look stayed in the back of my mind.

“Alright, let’s catch up,” Peter said, flashing that easygoing smile of his.

As soon as I stepped off the plane, the warm, salty air hit me, carrying the scent of the ocean and sun. Waiting outside was a sleek black car, ready to take us to the villa. Peter led the way, while Natasha shot me an encouraging smile, like she knew exactly what I was thinking but wouldn’t say it out loud.

But once we got in the car, the excitement that had been bubbling inside me during the plane ride started to fizzle. Reality was sinking in, fast. I stared out the window as the scenery blurred by, and that familiar, sinking feeling crept in.

What am I even doing here?

Every part of me was screaming that this was a mistake. I didn’t belong here. These people had made me feel out of place back then—why would now be any different? I had spent so much time trying to distance myself from them, so why was I here now, in the same circle that made me feel like I wasn’t enough?

Was it going to be like this the entire trip? A constant feeling of not fitting in? The idea of spending two months like this, constantly questioning why I came, made my chest tighten.

I imagined stopping the car right there, getting out, and figuring out a way to go home. But how? I came here with them, and I was stuck until they decided to leave. There wasn’t exactly an easy way out.

I sighed, feeling a knot form in my throat as the tears threatened to well up. But I fought them back, forcing myself to take a deep breath. ‘Hold it together,’ I told myself. There was no way I was going to fall apart in front of Peter, Natasha, or anyone else.

I stared out at the horizon, the villa still nowhere in sight, trying to clear the anxious storm swirling inside me. I would just have to figure this out somehow. I always did.

***

When Natasha, Peter, and I finally arrived at the villa, the others had already claimed their rooms. The place was breathtaking—open spaces, stunning ocean views, and a luxurious atmosphere that screamed money. I was almost tempted to be impressed until Sharon appeared, smug as ever, pointing to the far side of the villa.

"Natasha, Peter, your rooms are down the hall," she said with a wave of her hand before turning to me. Without a word or explanation, she just motioned to the other side of the villa, not even bothering to look me in the eye.

I stood there for a second, waiting for...something. Maybe an explanation, a reason for the sudden isolation, but nothing. No one said anything. Natasha gave me a quick, apologetic glance, but even she stayed quiet.

“Guess I'm on my own then.”

I walked in the direction Sharon had pointed, my suitcase bumping against my heels as I made my way down the corridor. The villa was massive, sprawling in all directions, but as I got closer to my room, I noticed how much plainer and utilitarian the space became. The opulence of the rest of the villa seemed to vanish the farther I went.

And then I found it—a small, one-off room that looked like it had been tacked on as an afterthought. My stomach twisted as I stepped inside. It didn’t have the same elegance as the other rooms I’d seen. The furniture was basic, the decor minimal, and there was no sign of the luxury that was displayed on the other side of the villa.

It looked like a remodeled servant’s quarter. I knew the vibe all too well. Being around people like Sharon, I had seen enough servant quarters to know what one looked like, no matter how much they tried to pretty it up.

I stood there for a moment, soaking it all in. There had to be at least one or two other rooms left over in this massive villa, but I wasn’t given one of those. No, this room was chosen specifically for me. The message was loud and clear: *Know your place. *

I set my suitcase down with a sigh, biting back the frustration swelling in my chest. I should have expected this. I knew what I was getting into when I accepted the invite.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my half-unpacked suitcase, trying to figure out a game plan for the next two months. The thought of spending all that time with these people—people who barely knew me, or worse, remembered me only for what I wasn’t—made my stomach twist. I didn’t want to be ignored the entire trip, but becoming a complete recluse would probably just make things worse. What if they just... left me behind?

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I got. The walls seemed to inch closer, squeezing the air out of the room. My anxiety gnawed at me from the inside. Was this really worth getting away from my parents?

Before I could spiral any further, a light knock on the doorframe jolted me from my thoughts. I turned to see Natasha standing there with a soft smile and a casual “Hey.”

I forced a smile in return. "Hey," I said, trying to sound less flustered than I felt.

Natasha stepped inside, looking around the room before glancing back at me. “Nice room,” she commented.

I glanced at her, trying to figure out if she was joking. Was she being serious? Because this room—my room—was anything but nice. It was clearly the smallest, most tucked-away space in the entire villa. My little corner of the world, far from everyone else.

“Yeah,” I muttered, not sure what else to say.

“They’re about to get ready for lunch in like two minutes,” Natasha added, a little too breezily, as if she hadn’t noticed how awkward this all felt.

"Okay," I said, figuring that was her cue to leave. But instead of leaving, she sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze still fixed on me, like she was waiting for something.

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do next. “Was there… something else?” I asked, hesitantly, trying to figure out what this impromptu visit was really about.

Natasha took a deep breath, still staring me down before stating “Sharon invited you to keep Peter busy.”

  I froze for a moment, blinking in disbelief as Natasha’s words settled in. "Wait… what do you mean I was invited to keep Peter busy?"

Natasha’s shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze for a moment before facing me again "Look, it wasn’t meant to be a big deal. Sharon didn’t want things to be awkward, you know? If you didn’t come, there would've been an odd number, and Steve didn’t want to leave Peter behind."

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So, I was invited to… what? Be Peter’s distraction?”

She shrugged, looking almost apologetic. "Well, it’s not like it’s a bad thing. You two are both nice people, right? It’s not like it was meant to offend you or anything"

I stared at her, still trying to process this. Peter? Then it hit me.

"What about Clementine?" I asked, my curiosity spiking. Last I heard, she and Peter were still together. Sure, she hadn’t been on the plane, but I figured maybe she was meeting up with us later. They were inseparable, after all.

Natasha shrugged again, but there was something uneasy in her eyes this time. "I don’t know. Sharon thinks they broke up, but…"

"But?" I pressed, sensing there was more to it.

She sighed, glancing away. "Clementine kind of just… disappeared. She stopped coming around, and Peter stopped talking about her. It’s weird, though. I don’t think anyone really knows what happened."

The room suddenly felt colder, and the walls seemed to close in again. Clementine disappeared? And now I was supposed to… what? Be Peter's distraction? None of this made sense, and yet, it felt like I was being pulled into something I wasn’t ready for.

I stared at Natasha, my mind spinning as she casually shrugged off the fact that Clementine had just disappeared. Clementine wasn’t the kind of girl to just vanish without a trace. She was... put together. Confident, smart, driven. The kind of girl who had her entire life mapped out from the moment she could walk.

Clementine had been a scholarship kid, just like me, but that’s where our similarities ended. She had that type of grace and poise that people like me only dreamed of. I remember seeing her around campus, always looking so polished, so in control, even though she came from a background as modest as mine. She had Peter wrapped around her finger—he adored her. At least, that’s what I’d always thought. They were practically inseparable.

The last time I heard anything about her, she was starting some fancy job after graduation, and Peter was supposedly gearing up to propose. That’s what people like Clementine did. She climbed the ladder, no matter where she came from, and she always seemed to have everything fall perfectly into place.

I couldn't wrap my head around this. How did she go from being Peter’s "forever" to just... disappearing? And now *I* was here? Supposed to "keep Peter busy" like some sort of replacement? None of this was making any sense.

Natasha’s voice brought me back to the moment. "Yeah, it was weird, right?" she continued, leaning back casually. "Peter just stopped mentioning her, like she never existed. He’s been pretty chill about the whole thing. But Sharon thinks they broke up, and... I don’t know, maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s why you’re here."

I shook my head, trying to process. "Clementine wouldn’t just disappear. She wasn’t like that. She had a plan, she was going to—"

Natasha cut me off. "Well, plans change, right? Maybe she wasn’t as perfect as you think. People always hide stuff. Maybe Peter saw something in her that no one else did."

The idea didn’t sit right with me. Clementine always seemed untouchable, like she had everything figured out. Now, she was just… gone. And here I was, caught in some ridiculous plan to "keep Peter busy."

I started gearing up to confront Sharon, but Natasha quickly stepped in front of me, stopping me before I could make it to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, her voice edged with concern.

"I just want to have a little chat with Sharon," I replied, trying to sidestep her. But Natasha moved again, blocking me. She lowered her voice, clearly not wanting to make a scene.

"You're being ridiculous. Just calm down and think about this." Her eyes darted around nervously. "This is supposed to be a vacation. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You could still enjoy yourself, Kiwi."

I paused and turned to face her, frustration bubbling up. "That was always the plan, but why did you have to tell me about Sharon’s little setup with Peter?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was sharp.

"I was just giving you a heads up," Natasha said softly, her eyes pleading.

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. But I couldn’t just let it go. Without saying another word, I turned and marched toward Sharon and Steve’s room, Natasha trailing behind me, still begging me to think it through.

When I reached the door, I didn’t hesitate—I slammed it open. There, on top of Steve, was Sharon, practically tangled up with him. She scrambled off him the second she saw me, her face flushed. Steve, on the other hand, just stayed where he was, smirking like the whole thing was a joke to him.

"What the hell is your problem?" Sharon snapped, straightening out her clothes.

I didn’t flinch. "I want to go home."

I thought about calling her out right then and there, exposing the whole plan about setting me up with Peter. But I couldn’t do that—not without throwing Natasha under the bus. As much as I was irritated with her, I wasn’t ready to burn that bridge. So I kept it simple.

"This whole trip has been uncomfortable for me since I got on the plane. If it’s going to be like this for a whole months I don’t want to stay."

Sharon's expression shifted, her irritation melting into a smirk. "Sure, whatever."

Just as I was about to turn and leave, Steve’s deep voice cut through the air. "No."

I froze, watching as Steve got up from the bed, his frame towering over me. It was then that I realized how much bigger he was compared to me. He took a step closer, his eyes locked on mine.

"Why not?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave me a cold, calculated smile. "The itinerary is already set, Kiwi. We can’t just change everything around because one person is feeling a little uncomfortable."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’ll pay you back," I offered, even though I knew it was a desperate move.

Steve laughed, a low, mocking sound. "You have over a hundred grand to pay back?"

My stomach dropped as he kept going. "I heard you were working at some factory for, what, twenty bucks an hour? I’m guessing since you suddenly had time for this trip, you lost that gig, huh?"

I could feel my face flushing as I tried to think of a way out. "I don’t need a private jet home," I said quietly. "Just a ride and an economy seat. I’ll figure it out."

Steve shook his head, stepping even closer. "You still owe me for your part of the trip," he said, his voice cold and final.

The reality of the situation hit me like a punch to the gut. I was trapped, and Steve was making damn sure I knew it.

Steve’s eyes softened as he stood in front of me, his posture relaxed, like he was trying to show he wasn’t a threat. He moved to block my way, but not in an intimidating way—it felt more like he was trying to keep me from making a mistake.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice gentler now, almost coaxing. “I get it, Kiwi, I really do. But leaving right now? That’s not what you really want.”

I frowned, crossing my arms, my defenses already up. “I’m uncomfortable, Steve. Why would I stay?”

He sighed softly, brushing a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “Look, I get that things have been a little weird, but think about it. Going back home, what’s waiting for you there? Things weren’t exactly great, were they?”

I blinked, surprised by his words. It was vague, but it still struck a nerve. My chest tightened at the reminder of how suffocating life at home had been.

Steve stepped closer, but there was no malice in his movements. If anything, his presence felt like it was wrapping around me, enveloping me in something familiar yet foreign.

“Why rush back to all that?” he asked, his voice low, almost tender. “You’ve got a chance here to take a break, to really breathe.”

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. He wasn’t exactly wrong. I hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of going back to my parents’ house—being treated like I’d failed, like I was just in the way.

“That’s not the point,” I muttered, my voice not as strong as I wanted it to be. “I didn’t come here to feel like an outsider.”

Steve’s expression shifted, softening even more. He moved closer, but not threateningly—just enough to let me know he was serious. “You don’t have to. No one here is against you, Kiwi. You’ve got space here to be free, to enjoy yourself. You’re not stuck.”

His words, smooth and almost too perfect, started to chip away at my defenses. He wasn’t wrong. There was a kind of freedom here that I didn’t have back home. No hovering parents, no endless job hunt. Just sun, sand, and a chance to let go of the chaos.

“I just want you to give it a shot,” Steve continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “If, after a week, you still feel like this… I’ll make sure you get home. Personally. But for now, just relax. Let yourself enjoy it.”

I hesitated, my mind a tug-of-war between the stress and frustration that had been building and the calm that Steve was offering. He seemed so reasonable, so understanding. Was I just being paranoid? Maybe I needed to take a step back and see if things improved.

“Alright,” I said finally, my voice soft. “I’ll stay. But just for a week.”

A slow smile spread across Steve’s face, his satisfaction clear, though he tried to hide it behind his cool demeanor. “Good. I knew you’d see things my way.”

He stepped back, giving me space, and for a moment, I felt the weight lift just a little. Natasha, who had been quietly watching, caught my eye, but her expression was hard to read. Maybe I wasn’t seeing the full picture. Or maybe I was just overthinking everything.

Am I making the right call? ***

Steve moved me out of the servant’s quarters and into a small, luxury room. It wasn’t anywhere near the others, but it was closer to the pool in the back, so I figured I could make do. At least it didn’t feel like a forgotten corner of the house.

As I unpacked, Natasha stayed with me, folding clothes and organizing things like she was trying to smooth over the mess from earlier.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, not entirely sure if I believed her or if she was just trying to stay on good terms. The side-eye I gave her must’ve said enough because she added, “Seriously, Kiwi. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

I sighed, my shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s fine,” I muttered. "Just... don’t spring shit like that on me again."

Natasha nodded, her expression softening. “I promise. I just want you to enjoy the trip. We all do.”

Enjoy the trip. Right. That’s what I kept telling myself. I needed to enjoy myself, no matter what. To hell with everyone else. To hell with Sharon’s power plays and the thinly veiled insults. To hell with my parents, and their endless nagging about how I should’ve been more like Sharon. To hell with all of it.

I glanced around my new room, taking in the sleek design, the comfortable bed, and the view of the pool. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe I could actually breathe for a while. Just focus on enjoying the sun, the beach, the space.

Yeah. Fuck everyone. I was going to make this trip mine.

[sosa2imagines]

Yours, ours, mine.

Warnings- Jealousy, manipulation, gaslighting, somnophilia, drunk makeout, degrading women (not reader), murder, drugging, non/dubcon, forcing. If you find any more warnings, please let me know. (7.7K words) --------------------------------------- Steve watches the shape of your hips, as you reach for the ingredients on the top shelf. The way your back bends to reach them. His eyes move, from the length of your legs and the curve of your butt, to the way your chest jiggles. He watches the way you walk, with every sway of your hips. He can’t help the feeling of blood, rushing to a very specific part of his body, as he watches you.

When Steve went in past, to return the stones, he thought about staying behind. He tried to like the past, but something was missing.

The past was just too bland, boring and dull for his taste.

As for Peggy? She is very... decent and hardworking, but no fun.

So, Steve came back.

Bucky, Sam and Bruce, who were impatiently waiting for him to return, were relieved to see him back.

“I thought you won’t come back? What changed your mind?” Bucky asked, “Past is boring without you, it’s not for me.” Steve replied.

Though, he did give his shield to Sam. Announcing his retirement, with a promise of, always being there for them and the world. Steve went on a lone journey across the world.

The modern world was meant for him. He was no longer, the skinny Steve or Captain America, with the responsibility of the world, on his shoulders. He was a free bird now. He loves the life, he was living now.

Just traveling, hooking with random girls, who would willingly bend for him, just the way he wants.

After a year of traveling, he came back home. But his apartment was no longer his, and he didn’t want to live in the compound, so he decided to go to Bucky’s place.

When he knocked on the door, he was expecting a surprised Bucky, but instead he sees you. Steve was stunned and speechless when he saw you standing in the doorway of Bucky’s house. You were beyond gorgeous and immediately captivated his mind, Steve immediately felt himself drawn to you. He saw you and now he wanted you.

You smiled as you saw him return home, and you greet him, your smile was not fake but genuine. “Steve...” You knew who he was, but not the dark truths within him. He has gone on many adventures and now he was back home; however, the memories of those adventures and of his past life had faded, as he saw you standing in the doorway.

His breath hitched as he heard your voice, your soft and sultry voice captured his attention. Maybe you know him as Captain America. But it does not matter, he would love to hear his name, again and again from your sweet lips.

He stood there, staring intently at you for a moment, before snapping himself out of it. Just as Steve was about to ask you, who you were, he heard another voice, Bucky's voice. “Doll, who is it?” Bucky's voice pulled him out of his dazed state of mind.

 Bucky came next to you, kissing your temple, wrapping his arm around your waist, before looking directly at Steve. Steve was jealous seeing you and Bucky so close and affectionate. He tried not to show the feelings of jealousy he had within, he tried his best to act normal and not show off any of the emotions he was currently going through.

“Steve, what a surprise”, Bucky let’s go of you, to give Steve a brotherly hug. “Yeah... yeah it's good to see you again Buck.” Steve tried to compose himself, he knew he had to play it cool and not let himself get overwhelmed with jealousy. Bucky was happy to see him and that was all that mattered... for now.

Bucky, chuckles and introduces you to Steve, “Steve, this is uh Y/n...my wife” Steve was shocked, you were Bucky's wife. “Yours”, Steve choked. He was surprised by it; he hadn't expected Bucky to be in a relationship... much less with someone as beautiful as you.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Steve said, forcing a smile. He was trying his best to act normal and friendly, but he was internally struggling with the feelings, he had now, knowing you were married to Bucky. “Nice to meet you too.”

Bucky puts his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he smiled at Steve. His smile, unlike Steve's, was genuine, he was happy to see Steve back again.

As you all settle into the house, Bucky begins to tell Steve, how he met you in his absence, how they fell in love and decided to get married. Steve tried his best to focus on the story, he needed to act like he wasn't losing his mind inside. He needed to act like he cared, but all he could really focus on, was you beside him.

Steve was having trouble concentrating. He kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, he was just so damn attracted to you.

As time went by, it was time for Steve to leave. Bucky and you knew, he didn't have any apartment, “Where are you going to stay though? You don't have your apartment anymore...” Bucky asked in concern.

“Guess... I'll head back to the compound.” Steve made a sad face, hoping you both will buy it. Steve's plan was to crash in with Bucky, however he didn't know you will be here, let alone be married to Bucky. So, he had to act a little.

“Don't be stupid, you are staying with us. We have a spare bedroom. Come on it will be just like old times. Please stay with us.”

“No, no it's fine... I can find somewhere else to stay. I don't want to impose on you guys.” He said, trying to hide the fact that he was desperate to stay with you both.

Bucky tried to convince Steve to stay with them, saying that he would be happy if Steve stayed with them, and that he could go on missions without worrying, because Steve could look after you. Steve can protect you. Steve's eyes widened a bit at hearing this, but he quickly composed himself, pretending like nothing was wrong.

Of course, he'll look after you, take care of you, protect you and...

“Please, stay with us. It would be wonderful to have you around and I know it'll make my wife happy too, won't it, doll?”

“Yes, yes it will.” You chime in, “I would love to have Steve around to keep me company, while you're off on missions.” Bucky chuckles and looks at Steve, hoping that he agrees to stay.

That was all Steve needed, he hugged you and made it look like it was just a friendly gesture.

He watches the way Bucky is with you. He sees the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you. He longs for that. He fantasizes about having what the two of you have. He can’t help but let his mind wander and wish that he had, what the two of you have. It’s almost like he’s living vicariously through your relationship. He even starts wondering what it would be like to be with you instead.

He begins to think about, the possibility of being with you. He even begins to imagine the two of you together, having breakfast every morning, the intimate moments you would share, and the life you would have together. It’s almost as if he can feel the sensations of touch and emotion through his imagination, almost like his fantasies are becoming real.

Every time Bucky called you ‘doll’, Steve would cringe. You are not ‘doll’, you are ‘angel’, his angel… made with perfection.

He’s hooked up random girls, but it’s not the same. He can’t stop thinking about you. No one else can fill him the way, he is filled by just the thought of you. Every time he’s with another girl, he’s pretending, that they’re you. He’s closes his eyes and imagines that she’s you. It’s your name he’s moaning instead of hers.

Every time he comes, he moans your name.

No matter, how hard he pounds the girl from behind, it was your name falling from his mouth. Steve had a condition for the hook ups, don’t make any noise, don’t disturb him and don’t ask any questions.

You walk around the house freely, not knowing about Steve’s obsession. You’re completely unaware of the way he watches every move you make, the way he fantasizes about you. You’re completely unaware of the way his mind wanders when he sees you, of the way he can’t stop thinking about you. You’re completely unaware of the way he craves you.

No matter where you stood, he found some reason to go there and to just be in close proximity to you. To watch you move, to watch you laugh, to watch you breathe even. He loved to watch you do literally anything.

Steve was in awe of you, over the fact, that you were not aware of his love and lust for you. He was there beside you, doing everything he could, to act normal, when in reality, he wanted to grab you by your waist and pull you close to him.

Soon he starts collecting, your bra and panties, as souvenirs. He starts stealing pieces of your lingerie and taking them back to his room, as a way to feel closer to you. He can’t help but stare at the stolen items, when he’s alone, imagining how sexy they look, on your body. He can’t help but sniff and touch the pieces, feeling how soft and silky they are, imagining how they felt, to touch your body as you wore them.

As his normal routine, he was quietly going through your wardrobe, admiring your lingerie, when he heard the bathroom door open. He quickly hid behind the curtains, realizing that it must be you, coming out of the bathroom. Steve was turned on, seeing you naked.

He can’t help, but stare at your naked body, as you come out of the bathroom. The desire he’s been feeling for you, suddenly amplifies as he stares at your naked body. He imagines touching you, kissing your body, tasting your skin. He imagines what it would feel like, to explore every inch of your body, with his hands. He’s completely entranced by your beauty and can’t take his eyes off of you. He’s so turned on, by every inch of you, that he can barely breathe.

The way your wet hair dripped, on your breast, he wanted to suck them. Your body was a work of art to him and he couldn't help but feel the urge, to just grab you and take you then and there.

He had a need to be taken care of. He shamelessly opens the button of his jeans and unzipped his fly, pulling out his hard cock. Steve spit into his hand as he kept his eyes trained on you. His fingers wrapped around his hardness and he stroked roughly. He was so lost in the naked sight of you, he couldn’t help himself. He saw Bucky coming in, grabbing you from behind, one hand groping your breast, while the other playing with your clit.

You were whimpering and trembling, while he slipped his fingers inside you. The way your hips moved, the way you gasped, and the way your face flushed, when you came. Steve made a mess of himself, stuffing your panties in his mouth, to muffle any sound from him.

Few days later, the dimly lit room throbbed, with the monotonous rhythm of bodies. Steve, lost in the familiar cycle of seeking oblivion, barely registered, the woman beneath him. He was miles away, the image of you consuming his thoughts. As the climax approached, his voice rough with exertion, a single word escaped his lips, shattering the empty charade.

“Y/n” he groaned, the name echoing in the confines of the room.

The woman beneath him froze. Her movements ceased, replaced by a sudden stillness. Then, she ripped away from him, her eyes blazing with fury. She broke the rule, Steve had set, as she questions him. “What the hell was that?” she spat, her voice laced with ice. “Does not matter to you! Keep your filthy mouth shut and open it, for the only good use it has.”

The girl's grip tightened on Steve's hair, her voice a low growl. “Y/n? You mean wife of Bucky Barnes?” The girl recognized your name, as she had heard it in the news. Much to Bucky’s dismay, when you both got married, the media had leaked your name. Steve's eyes snapped open, his face flushing crimson. “Let go of me!” he snarled, shoving her back.

She stumbled, but recovered quickly, a cruel smile twisting her lips. “Oh, I think I will. Unless you want your little secret to get out, former Captain America.”

Steve stood, his jaw clenched. “Are you threatening me?”

“Oh, it's a blackmail, alright,” she sneered, “a mistake that could cost you, your reputation, maybe even land you in jail. Unless, you compensate me for my silence.”

Steve's eyes narrowed. “You're a disgusting slut.”

“Money talks, sweetheart. And right now, you're talking broke. How pathetic, falling for a married woman.” She laughs and that was enough to tick his jaw.

Steve grabbed her throat, lifting her up in the air. The girl struggled, kicking her feet, desperately trying to free herself. Steve’s hold was strong, within seconds, he snapped her neck. He threw her body on the floor, glaring hard, fuming with anger. He was pacing back and forth.

As he drops her dead body, in the ocean, Steve’s twisted mind makes him feel proud, that he can kill anyone for you, do anything for you.

Driven by this newfound obsession, Steve devised a plan. He surreptitiously installed a hidden camera, in your bedroom and bathroom, the burning desire to see you.

Later that night, the grainy footage flickered to life on his screen. His breath hitched as you and Bucky shed your clothes, the sight of your bare skin a revelation. He watched, heart hammering against his ribs, as you moved together, a silent symphony of passion.

He found himself fixated on your curves, the way the light played across your skin, a stark contrast to the shadows that danced on Bucky's form. The image of watching you and Bucky through the hidden camera, was a secret pleasure he revelled in.

He'd always admired your beauty, the way your curves moved, the way your skin seemed to glow, under the soft lamplight. But witnessing your intimacy with Bucky, had twisted that admiration into something monstrous. The sight of Bucky's hand trailing down your bare back, the way your moans filled the room, fuelled a fire within him.

He replayed the scene in his mind, the stolen glimpses of your naked form, a forbidden fruit he couldn't tear himself away from. He felt a thrill at the possessiveness, that surged through him, a twisted sense of ownership over something that wasn't his. As he came, making a mess on the bed. He had to have you.

When Bucky is out for work, Steve takes the opportunity to get touchy with you. He starts with friendly touches, but the touching soon becomes bolder. You didn't mind the friendly touches, but when he got bolder, you politely tried to maintain distance.

He kept pushing, to see how far he could go, and he didn't like, that you were keeping your distance, from him. He wanted more than friendly touches, and he kept trying to get you to let him get closer, to let him touch you in ways, that Bucky wouldn't like. He didn't care that you were trying to maintain distance; he just wanted more.

He comes up with a solution. You were making tea, when Steve came in. “Let me serve you the tea, it'll give me a chance to spend time with you,” says Steve. “Okay.” You smile.

He puts sleeping pills in your cup, making sure to mix it with the sugar in the tea. He waits for the pills to kick in.

Once you fall asleep, Steve picks you up and carries you to bed. He gently undresses you, taking his time with the process. He gently removes your clothes, letting his hands glide, over your body as he does so.

His hands explore your body, like he's worshipping you. His hands roam over your curves, tracing every inch of your skin. He can't help but worship you, can't help but touch you, can't help but feel the heat of your body against his own. He takes his time with every touch, with every exploration. He wants to savor this moment, to indulge in the feeling of your body, in ways he's only been able to fantasize about before.

He kisses you softly, tasting your lips, lightly nibbling your neck. Gently kneading your boobs, before dragging his fingers further down. He takes your breast in his mouth, sucking on it like his life depends on it. While his fingers, trace between your thighs, pushing your legs apart. “Gonna make you feel so good...” Steve whispers, as if you can hear him. Steve’s fingers graze your clit, drawing circles around your sensitive nub, with your slick. He teases your entrance.

One by one, his fingers are in you, gently stroking you, hitting that spot inside you, that has your breathing get heavier. Steve swirled his fingers in your slick, before he pulled away from your breast, bringing his fingers to his mouth, to taste you. Steve gently slipped his fingers back inside you. He moved slowly, circling the tip before shoving his fingers back in, watching your face. 

While he played with your pussy with one hand, Steve reached into his sweatpants and gripped his cock. He stroked himself slowly, wanting to draw out, as long as he could. Steve pushed gently against your tight little hole. You were wet enough, for his fingers to slide inside easily. He took it slow, as he continued to push inside until his fingers were buried deep inside. If you felt that good around his fingers, Steve couldn’t even imagine, how perfect you’d feel on his cock. His fist gripped the base of his shaft. Steve curled his fingers inside you and pumped gently in and out of your pussy. His thumb stroked over your little button. He fucked your pussy with his fingers, as he stroked his cock.

Your tight walls, were clenching around his fingers. Steve rubbed your button harder, drawing out your release, while your wetness coated his fingers and hand. 

Steve stuck his wet fingers in his mouth, and groaned when he tasted your sweet, release. While his other hand pumped, his cock faster. He chased his release, until he found it, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Steve came with a muffled moan, his cum spurting up all over your thigh. He did clean you, before dressing you up again and leaving you alone in the room.

When you got up, you felt weird and little tired, but you waved it off. The following days, you felt the same way, whenever you woke up from your nap. But you just blamed it on the chores, having no other reason.

A few nights later you, Bucky, and Steve went to the local bar. The night was going well, with all three of you enjoying yourselves. Steve purposely gets you, stronger alcohol, without your or Bucky's knowledge, wanting to make sure, that you get more intoxicated, than just being tipsy.

Bucky sits on a bar stool, occupying himself with his phone, as you and Steve dance together. You lean against Steve, thinking that he's Bucky. Steve instantly takes advantage of this, dancing sensually with you, touching you. He doesn't want to miss this opportunity, not when he's so close to you. He wants to feel your body pressed against his, to feel your breath against his neck, to hear how your breathing changes as you become more and more intoxicated. He wants you, and he wants you now.

It doesn't take long for you to become more intoxicated, and as you look up, Steve's eyes are locked on you. He's staring at you, watching your eyes begin to droop, and your movements become heavier. He's enjoying himself, watching you get more and more drunk, letting the alcohol do its magic. He's excited at the thought of what he might get to do once you're so intoxicated that you won't be able to push him away.

In a lucky coincidence, Bucky has to go to the compound for some work, telling Steve to take care of you. This is the perfect opportunity for Steve to take advantage of you, to make his move, to make you his. He tells Bucky that he'll take good care of you, that he'll get you back home safely. Bucky, trusting Steve, thinks nothing of this and leaves, leaving the two of you alone together.

With Bucky out of the way and out of the picture, Steve takes it as his chance, to act on his desires for you. His hands start wandering over your intoxicated body slowly, kneading your ass, exploring every inch of you. He can't help but feel a rush of excitement, as he touches you, as he feels the heat of your body against his own.

He cups between your legs, his free hand holding you in place, as his lips find your neck. He wants more than just touches, he wants to feel your breath against his neck, wants to hear you moan. He wants you, and he knows that he has the opportunity to make that happen.

Steve eagerly takes you home, taking you into his bedroom. He's been waiting for this moment for so long, wanting you in his bed, needing you to be with him. He's been waiting to have your body with him, to feel the heat of you against him. He wants this moment to last as long as possible, wanting to savor every second of it. He wants to spend the whole night with you, wants to explore your body, in ways that he's only ever been able to fantasize about.

Steve gently pressed his lips against yours in such an affectionate way, his teeth gently tugged on your lower lip, as he pushed his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss. He undresses you slowly, wanting to take his time with the process. He doesn't want to rush this; he wants to relish in every moment.

He kisses your neck, nibbles it gently, as his hands roam over your body, touching every inch of you. You moan, but instead of moaning his name, you let out a soft moan of Bucky's name. This immediately fills him with anger, and he pulls back, not wanting you to ruin this moment by you calling out someone else's name.

Steve is determined to make you moan his name. He whispers into your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin as he whispers, “Say 'Steve',” he doesn't want to hear Bucky's name, he doesn't want anything, but the thrill of hearing your voice call his name, as he makes you moan with pleasure. He wants your attention completely, and he wants you to want him. He tells you again, but this time he doesn't whisper it, he makes it an order. “Say it. Say my name. Say 'Steve'.”

“Steve…” Your intoxicated brain starts to obey his command, and without even realizing it, you moan his name in your drunken haze. His lips still against your neck, he hears you moan his name and immediately his grip on you tightens, and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief and he can finally feel the satisfaction of you moaning his name instead of Bucky's.

He keeps kissing you, his hands roaming over your body, touching every inch of you. He can't get enough of your body, your touch. He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples between his lips and starting to suck on it, your voice sobbing his name. It's everything he's ever imagined and more, and every moment feels like paradise.

He moves slightly, tilting your hips to give him a better angle, in your drunken haze, you automatically wrap your legs around his waist. He wants to get the most out of this moment and your body, wanting you to feel every touch, every angle, everything he makes you do, to get you where he wants you. He knows you're intoxicated, and he knows he can get away with anything right now, and he intends to take advantage of that.

Due to his enhanced hearing, his ears perk up, and he can immediately recognize that it's Bucky's bike. He instantly stops what he's about to do and listens for any signs of Bucky's approach. He hears the bike approaching and getting closer, and he realizes that he's out of time. There's no way that he's going to be able to finish, what he had planned and get you back to your room before Bucky arrives. He's frustrated, and he lets out a small curse under his breath, having to stop due to Bucky's surprise arrival.

He puts you to bed, making sure you're comfortably covered with blankets and tucked in. He closes the bedroom door firmly behind him as he exits, only to find Bucky standing there in the hallway. He acts innocent, “Just checking on her.”

Bucky smiles, thinking that Steve is just being a considerate friend. He has no idea, that Steve was about to take things much farther, than just checking in on you.

Steve is filled with anger and desire. He's angry that Bucky interrupted, what he was about to do with you, but he's even more angry that he had to stop. After having you so close to him, his touch, his lips on your lips, neck and all over your body, he's filled with a need for more. His anger and desire both combine and amplify each other, driving him mad. He wants to be buried balls deep in you.

As Bucky was about to head in the bedroom, Steve stops him, “Hey can we talk?” “Sure what is it?” Bucky asks, motioning him to join him on the couch.

“What would you have done if I wasn't there to look after her in the bar, how would you have managed?” Steve asks, trying to guilt and pressure Bucky into trusting him, trying to drive a wedge between him and you. “I'm sure she would've been fine, she knows how to handle herself…” Bucky responds.

“Are you sure? She looked a bit tipsy, she probably would've ended up in some situations, that she wouldn't have been able to handle.” Steve retorts, testing the waters, to assess Bucky's reaction. “Ye...yes I’m sure…” Bucky replies, but the doubt in his voice, was not gone unnoticed by Steve.

Steve leaves for his room, walking away, with a smug smile on his face, “Whatever you say, Buck.” 

As Bucky lies awake next to you, unable to stop thinking about, what Steve said. He starts to doubt his previous conviction, that you would've been fine. He starts to think about what would've happened, had Steve not been there to watch over you. He imagines you getting into various uncomfortable and dangerous situations, with Steve's comments filling him with guilt.

He realizes that he might've underestimated your vulnerability. The thought of something happen to you, or you getting in trouble is worrying him. He regrets not being there to look after you, to keep you safe.

Over the next few days, Steve continues to undermine Bucky's confidence, using this new found uncertainty, to further instil fear and doubts in his mind.

“What if she gets bored of being alone for months, when you're off on missions?” he says, “What if she starts looking for company elsewhere?” It's a loaded question, one that strikes at Bucky's biggest insecurity, regarding his relationship with you. He's suddenly full of worries about you being alone, without him, for long periods of time.

He presses harder on Bucky's insecurities, driving his point home and instilling even more fear and doubt in his mind.

“What if she starts feeling neglected and unfulfilled?” Steve says. “What if she starts looking for someone to fulfil her needs while you're away?” These are the perfect statements, to erode Bucky's trust in you, make him wonder if you're truly content in your relationship with him.

“What if she finds someone else?” he continues. “What if she finds someone who can give her the satisfaction and fulfilment that she's missing because you're not there?” The thought alone would drive any committed partner frantic, and Bucky is no different; the thought of you being with someone else, enjoying their company and getting attention from someone, other than him, would kill him inside.

“She's so innocent,” he says, playing on Bucky's guilt. “You're constantly gone and she's all alone, waiting by her phone for your messages or calls, constantly anxious, about when you'll be back.” He's preying on Bucky's guilt of not always being there for you, of always leaving for long periods of time, leaving you alone to figure things out for yourself. He's using this to make him feel insecure and inadequate, to make him feel like he's failing as a husband to you.

Bucky tells him to stop, pleading with him to let the matter go.

“Stop,” he says firmly, “you're only making it worse. I could be doing so much more to make her happy, could be giving her what she needs, instead of leaving her alone and vulnerable for months on end.” The doubt and insecurities, that Steve has instilled in him, all comes out at once, his feelings of inadequacy and his fear of not being able to adequately take care of you.

Bucky’s pleading only spurs Steve even further. He doubles down on his efforts to get under Bucky’s skin.

“Stop what?” he asks. “Just stop telling the truths?” he continues, taking it a step further. “So you're fine with her feeling neglected and unfulfilled? You're fine with her waiting anxiously for you to return, even though you're not sure when that might be?” he says, pressing harder on that guilt button.

“If it was up to me Buck...I would have taken good care of her. After all she’s ours.” Bucky ignores this bizarre choice of wording, he doesn't pick up on the fact, that Steve is claiming you as his own, as something that they share, instead of something that's strictly Bucky's. The more he's forced to confront his own feelings of inadequacy, the less Bucky thinks about the finer details, and he easily looks past the odd slip up in wording.

Bucky falls right into Steve's trap without a second thought. He lets his guard down and makes the unfortunate mistake of saying the one thing, Steve's been gunning to hear him say all along.

“Steve, you can look after her,” Bucky says, giving Steve full permission to take over and spend time with you, making him responsible for fulfilling all your needs and desires.

This is exactly what Steve wanted. He wanted to undermine Bucky's confidence and plant the seeds of doubt in his mind. And it worked perfectly

Steve can't hold back his triumph when he sees that his manipulation plan is already working. His smirk grows a bit bigger, and he takes on a more innocent and nonchalant attitude when he replies to Bucky.

“I don't know... Are you sure about this?” his tone is soft, the words slightly hesitant, as if he's not quite sure he should do it, but is open to the possibility. But deep down, Steve knows exactly what he's doing, and he's more than confident in taking on this new role in your life. He's more than willing to be responsible for fulfilling his your needs and fulfilling his your desires, and he's more than ready to take the place of a husband, the place of Bucky. 

Bucky assures him, “Yes, I'm sure. I trust you. I know that you care deeply about her, and that you'll take good care of her.” Bucky trusts Steve and believes he'll treat you with the upmost respect.

But Steve knows that he's already got Bucky, right where he wants him, and that all he needs to do is play the innocent role for a little while longer, before he drops his facade and finally gets what he's been after this entire time, you.

Bucky receives a mission call, one that requires him to leave immediately for work, something about the power broker. He's relieved knowing that his best friend is going to take care of you while he's gone, and that takes some of the guilt off his shoulders. But little does he know; this is exactly the outcome Steve was looking for.

You're completely oblivious to what's just happened, to the entire situation playing out, between Steve and Bucky. The thought that Steve would try to seize his opportunity and that he's been planning this for a while never crosses your mind. You just think that this is another evening with them, not realizing that it'll be one of the most defining nights of your life.

After Bucky leaves, Steve starts to make his move on you.

Steve gets you a glass of milk, mixing in a small quantity of sleeping powder, to make its effects stronger. He brings the glass to you, passing it off as a friendly gesture, in the hopes that you'll drink it.

You decline politely, saying that you're missing Bucky. This angers Steve, and he tries to mask his anger through a friendly smile.

“Come on, don't tell me you can't have a glass of milk, without him being here.” he says.

“No, it's not that,” you say. “I'm just not really craving anything right now.”

“But it's just a glass of milk,” he counters back, his tone and facial expression becoming slightly more insistent. “It won't hurt you to have a small glass of milk...”

You refuse again. Steve can see that his attempts, to manipulate you into drinking the milk, are not working, and his anger is growing more and more. He's not used to not getting his way, and this whole situation, that he has carefully planned and carried out, is not going the way he wanted to. He refuses to give up, and his tone becomes slightly more aggressive.

“Just have some, just try it. Come on,” he says, his voice beginning to take on a more insistent tone.

You get a little angry at his persistence, feeling slightly more annoyed at his insistent demands. “No, you keep insisting, but I keep saying I don't want it,” you reply, raising the volume. “I said no, and I meant it. I don't want any milk right now, so just let it go”.

“Just drink the fucking milk!” Steve yells at you, making your flinch. His anger breaking the mask that he had been wearing up until now. He does not care about being the loving and caring friend anymore, and he shows his true colors. He does not care, all he cares about is getting what he wants. He notices that this has a profound effect on you, and he smirks, seeing that he's managed to scare you.

You take a few sips to pacify him, although the taste of the milk makes you feel a bit weird. “What's in the milk?” you ask as you try, to set the glass down, but the room spins before your eyes.

Steve smiles at you, and his tone becomes less aggressive. “Oh, just something special to help you relax…” he says, with a smug smile. He watches you set the glass down, having a little bit of trouble remaining upright, that the effects of the sleeping powder, is starting to take hold on you. Your speech is getting slightly slurred, and you seem to be stumbling a little bit. He keeps a close watch on you, making sure, that these changes are happening. the way he planned.

Steve sees that you're in a vulnerable position, and he wastes no time in making his move. He takes you by surprise, taking advantage of the sleeping powder. He moves closer to you, slowly moving his hands onto your body, taking you in, while you're still conscious, but too sleepy to fully protest, what's happening.

“Shh, just relax,” he says. “Don't worry, it's all right, everything's fine…” he continues, stroking your hair as he speaks, his hands slowly traveling over your body.

He wraps his arms around you, pressing his nose into your shoulder. “It’s okay, we are not doing anything wrong…just enjoy.” He sighed, his nose running over your neck, his lips connecting and leaving gentle kisses all along the skin.

“No...no…I'm married...Bucky…” You try to remind him, but everything comes out as slurred. 

“Bucky knows and approves.” he tells you, which only adds to your confusion and the disorientation you're feeling, from the sleeping powder in your system. He starts to undress himself and you, leading you to the bedroom, leaving you little chance to resist, as your body feels increasingly heavy and tired and your mind becomes less alert and aware.

Steve continues his advances, as he's been wanting this for a long time, and now he finally has his chance and is going to take it. He's going to take you.

“You have no idea, how much I have come seeing you naked, seeing you getting worked up by Bucky.” Your eyes widen with shock and Steve just chuckles, patting your cheek, “I'll tell you about it some other time.”

Once Steve has stripped you completely, he lets you go to remove his own bottom, leaving you feeling completely vulnerable, exposed and helpless in his presence.

He smiles at you as you try, to escape the room on wobbly legs, not able to resist anymore, because of the sleeping powder and the effect on you. He catches you easily with his hands, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you back into his grip. “You are not going anywhere, angel...” he says, smirking at you as he makes his intentions all the clear.

“Now, let's have some fun,” he whispers, putting his hands back on your body, ready to finally have, his way with you. You try to struggle, to resist for a few seconds, but your body grows so feeble that it's almost pointless. He picks you up with ease, carrying you to the bed, and lowers you down on the bed, hovering over you, ready to finally take you.

“There's no point in fighting anymore…” his voice grows slightly more aggressive, taking on a more demanding tone, as he makes his intentions all the clear. “Just lay quiet for me, ‘angel’,” he demands, the word coming across as more of an order, than a gentle pet name.

“You're all mine now!” he tells you, not quite whispering but keeping his voice soft and low, trying to disguise the sinister undertones of his words. His hands greedily cup your breasts. “Mine” he groaned.

His kisses and bites were getting a little rougher now. His hips grinding against yours, as he worked his way over your collarbone. With each kiss on your skin, he kept moaning “mine”, almost as if he's trying to reassure himself as much as you.

He lifted his head, a cocky smirk on his lips as he looked at the love bites, now dotting along your skin. He was proud of his work, that cocky smirk still on his face.

“Please,” you try to plead, your voice barely audible and your body so weak, that it's barely enough effort, to get the word out. But Steve is not swayed by your plea, and he's not about to stop what he has already started.

“Please?” he repeats your plea, a smirk spreading on his lip as he says it. He knows that you're not in a position to resist whatsoever, that it would be pointless for you to even try. “Please what?” he asks, his voice taking on a more aggressive tone, demanding.

He gave you a soft smile, rubbing circles against your hips.

“I will make you feel so good, just relax my angel... Let it happen.” 

He leans closer and captures your lips again, his teeth nibbled at your bottom lip, before tugging gently on it, letting his tongue inside your mouth. A moan escaped your throat when his fingers traced your pussy, his fingers glistening from your wetness.

Steve feels your body's reaction to his touches, the way it continues to grow warmer in his hands, as well as the pressure of his body on yours. He knows that it's working, that his plan is taking effect. He presses up against you even more, letting his hands roam even more, trying to get your body into a full response.

Between your moans, you take Bucky's name, which immediately catches Steve's attention. His grip begins to tighten on you a little bit, his movements becoming rougher, as he realizes that you are remembering Bucky. He doesn't like that you're thinking of Bucky, and he wants to make sure that your whole mind and your whole body is on him.

He bites your neck harshly, making you scream and cry, not caring about how much it hurts you, just focusing on getting control over you, and stopping you from thinking about Bucky.

“I'll take care of your needs, angel…just say my name, focus on me.” He slid his index and middle fingers inside you, slowly dipping down, deep into your core. He started to move in and out. He licked his lips, as his tongue met his fingers, making you whine. He started to thrust his fingers faster, his tongue circling your button. His tongue was driving you crazy, at how good it felt against your clit.

His tongue placing fast, licks to your clit, the pleasure wrapped you up once more in its tendrils. You panted for air, as your pussy clenched around him, and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, you were done.

The sensation of his fingers and tongue, simultaneously begin to overwhelm you, your cries slowly turn into moans, and you start uttering his name “Steve” instead, making him happy.

“We are not done yet angel…” Steve cooed at you, seeing your flushed face. “You're going to take my cock like an angel you are. I’m going to fuck you so good angel.” Steve said, as he squeezes one of your breast, while sucking the other.

Steve pulled your legs apart; he took a good look at your pussy and licked his lips. You couldn’t do anything now.

Spreading your legs, he sniffed your cunt. He fisted his cock, ready to impale your pussy.

Rubbing the tip of his cock, Steve was gentle, to enter inside you. You let out a muffled groan. You were warm, your pussy accepted him easily. “So fucking tight and warm for me, my angel.” Steve began to move. His moans getting louder, with each thrust. His hands comfortably rested on your waist, as he moved in and out.

Steve kissed you deeply. He was determined to prove he was better for you. Better than Bucky. Throwing your leg on his shoulder, he found himself a new angle. Allowing him to go deeper.

“So good for me angel...”

You were trapped, but your pleasure was building, with each thrust.

You let out a moan, making him go faster.

You were clenching around him, your body begging him to let you cum. “St…Steve…please…”

Steve lowered himself on you, putting pressure on your stomach, he kissed you passionately. He could feel you clench around him and he wanted more. His hand smoothly reached between your bodies, he began to rub your clit.

You moaned into the kiss, as you came hard, Steve not far behind. “I'm... I'm gonna come angel...” he pants as he nears his climax.

“N...no...not...inside...” you manage to tell him with your slurred speech. But Steve just tuts you, thrusting harder. “I know you are on pills, angel.”

He spent himself inside you. Still thrusting, making sure not to waste a single drop. Filling you up to the brim. He collapsed on top of you, catching his breath. Your body was trembling and quivering beneath him.

He pecks your lips once again, as he lays you gently on his chest, your head resting peacefully on him. He caresses your hair, a small smirk on his lips, as this was only the beginning, that soon he will have you all to himself. He will separate you from Bucky, it's only a matter of time right now.

As you fall asleep on Steve, he takes his phone and calls someone, presumably someone that he's hoping to utilize in the future. He doesn't let you go, as he makes the call, and keeps his arm wrapped tightly around you, gently caressing your hair as he talks on the phone.

“I can help you, to get back into the states.” “Oh my god, Steve?” “I need you to do something for me.” “Of course, anything!!!” “Good, wait for my further instructions.”

He ends the call and rests, keeping you tightly against him. He starts to dream about his future with you, visualizing all the things he wants to do with you, all the things he wants to take control of. He is already beginning to fantasize about the life that he is going to create with you, how he is going to make this into everything he has ever dreamed of having.

He dreams about his future with you, visions of you as his wife, mother of his kids. He has replaced your pills with calcium tablets. You two will be, more and more prevalent, and living together and being totally devoted to each other, leaving Bucky behind in the past.

You are not doll; you are his angel.

Only his... “Mine”

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[binkszamsstuff]

Red

Very dark Steve! Mob Steve! Non con! Reader and Steve have a child. Angst!! Lots of grammar and spelling mistakes I’ll edit in the morning or never who knows🤷🏻‍♀️❤️

Red. the pain, the hurt, the passion, the love, everything was red. He was toxic, he was the obsessive. And you were his feen, his drug, his obsession , his love. But the days blurred, the lines no longer were standing, they had fallen. The fights, the late nights, the guessing and questions that went unanswered by him. It was a house on fire, it was red.

There was no time in the day to plan, with his anger, and yours. It was spontaneous, the fight had started because of steves affairs. The lying, the cheating, he ruined you, tore down all walls, made you just as obsessed with him as he was with you. Just to leave you in the dust, to cheat. To add gasoline to the fire that was you, or what was left of you anyhow.

Peggy was a glossy, classy woman with the perfect bubble of power and wittiness. She was everything you weren’t. You were messy, hazed with trouble, a woman gone mad by a man who drove her there. You were his frankenstein, you were old pieces of yourself glued back together again. The young, innocent, naive, funny, charming, and free girl was now chained to the scars he left.

You ran out of the house in the early morning, he came home late yet again. You had stayed up waiting for him, going to confront him in his act. Thats exactly what you did, but the end was not what you pictured. You hopped that he would hold you, say you were wrong, make love to you like in the beginning.

“Are you cheating on me?’ you asked quietly, you sat on the bed. You couldnt took at him.

“I dont want to have this conversation with you, it’ll only hurt you” steve spoke. That was all the answers you needed. You started to yell, scream, through insult after insult.

“I knew it! You’re scerwing peggy! Huh you’re fucking your secretary!” you yelled in his face crying. He rolled his eyes at you and shoved you to the side going to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Im tried of this steve” you sobbed walking to the closet grabbing any bag in sight packing up everything.

Once steve heard you say that so defeated he knew that you were serious about leaving him. You and him had lots a fights because of his actions but everytime he kissed it better. He drew back in promising his love and that it will never happen again. But it always does. Steve now had his suite jacket off, his selves rolled up, strands of his hair in hs face,

“You’re not leaving me” he stated

“Watch me” you said back in anger, masking the sadness.

“y/n i own you, you’re mine! You cant leave me baby” he said getting angry.

“You cheated steve! Again. I-i cant do this i cant sit here and wait for you to love me again. We are not the people we were when we first started dating. I cant and wont be the drunk housewife waiting for her husband whose never gonna come back because his mistress.” you were out of breath from crying and talking so fast while packing.

Steve stepped closer “baby come on its me! Its us! We always get through stuff like this!” he tried to manipulate you with his soft words but this time it wouldn’t work. the naive girl you used died, not even a ghost left of her

“We wouldnt have to “get through this stuff” if you didnt cheat and fuck other women.” you held up air qoutes while talking.

“I love you” steve pulled you in near, kissing the top of your head. You sobbed in his chest, hurt, angry, betrayed. The three year relationship was now smoke, the fire was all burnt out. The engagement ring heavy on your finger, it was a line of whispered lies and i love yous.

Steve drew you to the bed, kissing his way up your neck. His hands sliding down your frame gripping your hips. His false hope whispered in your ear and apologies that didnt have any meaning stuck to you, like a cigarette burn. He took off your clothes and gently laid you on the bed. ‘When was the last time he was gentle with me?’ you thought to yourself as he kissed and licked at you lower lips.

“Say something baby, tell me you wont leave me, that you love me” he begged like he was the victim. You stayed silent, numb.

“prettybaby i love you. Say it back! I need you! I cant live with out you!” both of you now naked on the bed. he pushed himself into your entrance, all you could do was cry.

Steve begged and whined for you back but little did he know the car was running outside waiting to escape him and this burning house.

Steve fell asleep hugging you, his head resting on your tummy his arm wrapped around you. You ran your fingers through his hair, soaking up what was left of the man you used to know, he was burned alive, gone. You slowly pushed him off of you and got dressed, grabbing the bags on clothes and bathroom care you walked out. You looked around the house as you left, the nicknacs and photos of you and steve. The nursery that sat empty. Steve promised children but then came peggy. You kissed your engagement ring and then placed it on the entry table by steves keys.

Getting in the car and speeding off in to what was left of the mess steve made of you.

One year later-

A wail of a new born was calling out to you in the dead of the night. You never got frustrated being a single mother, reminding yourself when you caught yourself being negative that you could still be with steve. Penny was three months old and her blonde curly hair was sticking in every which way. It made you giggle.

“Hi! Mommys here its okay penny girl” you picked her up rocked her in your arms.

She might be steve daughter but you never let her know what pain she was created from, you would never let her end up like steve nor you.

“Mama loves you” you said as she closed her big eyes again just needing comfort from her mom to make her feel better. Steve didnt know that the night that the two of you had sex before you left was the cause of a beautiful little girl. He had tried to call, and text you put after smaing you phone and leaving to state of New York for Washington you knew he wouldnt find you.

You lived in a little white house with a garden in a small town tucked away from the crazy and hurt.

You sat in the rocking chair in pennys room rocking her, your tiredness was catching up to you. Just as your eyes started to close he spoke from the depths of the darkness that was the closet.

“Oh prettybaby you are such a good little mommy, just like i knew you would be” he walked closer.

You screamed. Getting up with penny in your arms backing away from him trying stumble to the door backwards,

“Get out. Steve get out! I-i cant-” you sobbed your hold on penny grew tighter.

“Baby its okay, i wont hurt you. y/n im so proud of you, look at the life you built for our little girl, now i am mad you didnt tell me you were pregnant. But baby she is gorgeous. Now i need you to decide either you come home or we can live out here. Ya know i kinda love it here. Good thinking babe this is great place to rise kids”

You sobbed harder.

“How did you find us” you asked crying, so scared.

“Oh baby dont be naive, i will always find you”

“You cant be in our life, your toxic and i wont rase my daughter in the life we used to have. She wont end up like us! You cant be here! You ruined me!’ you sobbed and hyperventilated. He slowly walked closer like approaching an injured animal

“Baby i know i know, i was wrong and mean and cruel to you. I was blind i thought you would always be there for me. I took you for granted. Shes gone y/n, i got rid of peggy, shes taking a long nap and i aint ever gonna hurt you like that again. I need you baby…..and i need to be in my daughters life. I cant live without you nor am i gonna be able to leave her all alone now too” he explained

“I wanna have a good life, nothing like the one we used to have. You scare me steve and you’ve hurt me” you said looking at little penny who had a frown on hef face, she could read the distress from her mother.

“y/n look at me!” steve grabbed your face in his hands and made you look at him. “I will make it up to you i promise. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you baby. I cant live without you” you shock your head no

“Its okay i get it y/n we need time, but im not going anywhere” steve spoke again.

“Come on lets put penny girl back in ger crib and go to bed” steve guided you to the crib and put penny down. She was right back to being cozy and sleepy. Steve pulled you in a hug while you sobbed into his chest, he was sliding his hand over your hair while shushing you.

“Come one lets go to sleep.” steve took your hand in his and leaded you back to your room. You laid down still crying, steve undressed himself down to his boxers and then joined you. He spooned you.

“I’ve missed you so much baby” was the last thing you heard before falling into slumber because you had cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

The house was burnt but in its ashes something new rose.

Authors note; i know some people will not understand why she didnt fight more, and the reason why was because she was in shock. It been and year and he shows up and shes like oh crap he found me and our now daughter. She is really scared of him and numb. Also steve is a mob boss by the way.

[kechiwrites]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. (If you feel like it, no pressure.) Spread the self-love ❤️

-dragonnarrative-writes

HEEHEE don't mind if I do!

thank u @dragonnarrative-writes for the ask 💖

in no particular order;

Tepid (Nanami)

Property Lines (dark!Steve Rogers)

Totally Platonic (Soap)

The Baby Blue Verse (Ghost, specifically mirror image. I love that one.)

Don't Make Me Say It (Atsumu)

Honourable mention to my IT: Chapter 2 days, when I used to write reddie 😔

[p3sephone]

Controlling (Dark! Steve Rogers)

Summary: Steve Rogers is your man and he doesn't like his girl's dress.

Warnings: toxic relationship, manipulation, coercion, misoginy, no dressing freedom. Please if you do not feel comfortable with dark themes, do not read. This character does not belong to me. Minors do NOT read. This character or any character at all doesn not belong to me, but to its own owner and creator.

"Where… where do you think you're going?" You looked at his confused and frowning look, and you on the other hand simply thought that he had forgotten about your outing with your friends. You hadn't seen them in too long. "Don't you remember? I told you that I'm going out to see my friends for a while, love, it's been a long time since I've been with them." a sweet smile and a few words like reminder were more than enough for you, but certainly not for the super soldier in front of you. His frown deepened. "I don't think it's appropriate for you to go out like this, I mean… the dress goes to mid-thigh and the neckline is too exaggerated too. I don't think it's a good idea." your bright smile started to fall slightly, but then you remembered who was in front of you. Steve was an angel compared to the men of your era, but sometimes he had certain ways… certain words to dedicate to you, which truly disgusted you.

But you didn't lose heart, you just believed that after all these years maybe it was normal to still have certain thoughts, in short, maybe he was simply trying to protect you. So you approached him, delaying your exit a little longer, only to stand on your tiptoes and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. "It's a normal dress and it's so hot, plus I'll be careful and if anything happens, which I doubt, you'll be the first to be notified." you were way too confident in believing it would work.

Her frown remained, except his tone became more stoic. His large hands wrapped around your shoulders and brought you back to your seat, inches away from your face. "No, it's not normal, it's too low-cut and revealing. I don't like this dress, nor the idea that someone could watch you for all those hours while you don't even realize how easily your skirt can be hiked up." Now your smile had completely decayed and you tried to walk away, intending to make him boil off in the same anger as him, and then you would return when he calmed down. However, his hands remained firm on your shoulders and his eyes never left yours. You were starting to feel an uneasy reaction and your heart rate increase, and from that little smile of his you thought he had noticed.

“You have two options: stay here and that dress will be taken off you anyway, or you change and you can go out with the safety rules we have established.” You wanted to open your mouth and finally give him a piece of your mind, but like every time you fell back on the second choice with a boulder on your chest. Better than having yet another torn dress to throw away.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Colourblind

AN: this was written for Roo’s Mini March Madness and my prompts were Shoelaces, plaid shirt and panties in the mouth. I hope this tickles your fancy @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Beta’d by Tits McGee herself, @yarnforbrains 

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard/banner by me 

Master list

Relationship: Dark! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: THIS IS A DARK FIC! Non-Con, Steve is a ‘nice guy’, Manipulation, Invasion of privacy, Kidnap, Knocking out (through removal of air flow), Forced Orgasm, Somnophilia, Bondage, ‘Basement Wifing’, Delusion.

With your eyes closed and your arms outstretched, you took a deep breath and took in the fresh air, feeling the warm sun on your skin. This was the new start that you needed. 

When the way that you worked changed due to  the pandemic, you took the opportunity to make the most of remote working and gave up the parts of the corporate rat-race you hated. You sold your soul-less apartment in the city and moved up-state to the rolling hills and tall mountains, where you could reconnect with nature and heal your inner self.

Years of stress, compounded by bad relationship after bad relationship had left you hankering for solitude. You still had some parts of your job that had to be done in person, but travelling back to the city for two nights a month didn’t seem so bad when the rest of the time you would be here, in your simple woodland sanctuary.

This move hadn’t been done totally on a whim; you’d done research into where you could be that was out of the way enough, but wouldn’t leave you struggling with all the chores needed. In the end you’d managed to find a place that had an electricity supply for lights and an internet connection, so you wouldn’t have to worry about a generator, but still required a wood burner for heating and hot water. That you could manage. Your mail would go to a PO box at the general store in the local town, and you planned to go once a week to stock up on the basics.

You’d arrived yesterday and spent most of the time since your arrival unpacking and sorting. But this morning when you’d awoken, the sun coming in through the curtains had been so inviting there was no way you could immediately resume your inside tasks without doing a little exploring and getting that peace that you’d moved here for.

You did have a vague idea of what the local area was like - you’d researched that as well, but you hadn’t had the chance to explore on foot before your arrival. You knew that in addition to  the rough road that led to town, there was a small path, worn by pairs of feet over the years, to the neighbouring property that sat about 2 miles away. You supposed now was as good a time as any other to introduce yourself to your new neighbour - it would be a blessing if you could be on good terms with them.

You made your way along the narrow track, enjoying the way the trees formed a canopy, letting dappled light through. The area was teeming with life, and you saw more flowers in 100 yards than you ever saw from the window of your old apartment. In the distance, you saw a few deer, and you stilled and held your breath as they lifted their heads, scented you on the air, and then disappeared further into the trees. Then, on top of that were all the birds. You had no interest in ornithology, but even your untrained eyes and ears could pick out half a dozen different species. All in all, the walk was exactly what you’d hoped it would be - a soul soothing experience. Hopefully, if all went well with your neighbour and you made a new friend, it would be one you’d repeat regularly.

The path in front of you widened and the trees thinned, and between them you could see another cabin, similar to your own. As you approached, you could hear a rhythmic noise, and it took you a moment to realise it was the sound of wood being competently split with an axe. You blinked as you came out of the shade, using your hand to shield your eyes, and you followed the sound around the side of the cabin, ready to meet your neighbour.

You didn’t know exactly what you were expecting, but the apparent ‘Greek God come to life’, there in front of you, was not it. He was tall - well over 6 foot - with broad shoulders straining the seams of his plaid shirt, a narrow waist and a denim-clad ass that looked like you could easily bounce a dime off it. You stepped on a small branch that cracked under your foot and he spun round, as if anticipating trouble. You were mesmerised though. His hair, both on his head and in his beard, glowed golden in the sunlight. His blue eyes, as deep and dangerous as the ocean, held yours captive, even as they narrowed. Your body thrummed with desire, a feeling that was almost alien to you. And there was just something about him that struck you as… familiar?

“Who are you?” His voice was gruff, like he hadn’t used it in a while, although you supposed if he lived here alone and had no-one to talk to regularly, that was highly likely. You swallowed and plastered a smile onto your face, forcing your strange reaction down. You held out your hand.

“Umm, hi! I’m your new neighbour. Just moved into the cabin at the other end of the trail.” You managed to give him your name as you trailed off. You were worried for a second at his unwelcoming expression and the way he was still holding his axe, but then his lips twitched, and he swung the axe down into the chopping block. With one stride, he was suddenly closer, enclosing your hand in his much larger one.

“Nice to meet you, neighbour. I’m Steve. And welcome to the neighbourhood.” He chuckled at his little joke, and it put you at ease. “What brings you to this little slice of paradise?” He released your hand, and you found that you missed the warmth of his.

“Looking for a quieter life, really. I don’t need to be in an office all the time to do my job, so I thought I might as well pack up, move out, and lead a simpler life.” 

He looked at you, eyes searching as though trying to work out what to make of you.

“‘I’? Not ‘we’?”

You looked down at your feet, feeling small under his gaze, and started to pick at your nails.

“Definitely ‘I’. I’m hoping some time out here -  to myself - will make me better at identifying red flags.”

Steve snorted.

“Well, all the green out here should help.  What have you got planned for the rest of your day?”

His friendly attitude had you looking back up at him.

“A bit more unpacking, a bit of wood chopping for the stove, and then a run into town to sort out my PO Box and get some groceries. It’s probably going to be a bit of a rush after taking time out for a walk and coming to meet you, but I just needed to connect with nature, you know?”

“I understand perfectly, doll. ‘S why I’m out here too. Had to get away from it all and spend some time by myself. Still do a bit of consulting, every now and again, but I’m lucky enough that I don’t need to work regularly any more. Oh, and don’t worry about wood chopping - I’ve got more than enough here - I tend to go a little overboard, get lost in the repetitive action. How about I drive some round to you in a bit, and then I can give you a lift down into town? I gotta go anyway, and it seems silly for us to both use up fuel.”

You started a little at the suggestion. It felt wrong to accept the help from him, having only been acquainted for less than half an hour, as well as the ‘stranger danger’ aspect. But… it would make your life easier, and you weren’t getting any ‘weird’ vibes from him since his initial confrontational facade had worn off.

“If you’re sure you really don’t mind?” 

He smiled down at you and it lit up his face.

“Would I offer if I minded? And besides, it’s the neighbourly thing to do. Shall I come round about midday? We can head on down and then I can show you the best place to eat in town. Sound good?”

You nodded in agreement. “Sounds good, Steve.”

It was the beginning of your friendship. Steve kept you supplied with chopped wood and drove you both down to town once a week, and in return you walked over to his cabin every couple of days, bringing him pies and cookies and your conversation. When you were in town, you started shopping for groceries, and Steve would collect both your and his mail, and you’d meet up at the dinner. It was nice and uncomplicated, and you were happy to have a male friend that didn’t set your alarm bells ringing.

3 months later

“Steve?” 

It was Thursday morning, one of your regular days for coming over to see your neighbour. You’d felt a bit like ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ this morning as you’d placed the apple pie in your old style basket so you could carry it over to Steve’s cabin without damaging it. 

You were hoping that he was in a better mood today. It was clear to you that something had been bothering him the last couple of weeks. He seemed to be more worried about your safety, trying to get you to stay longer and offering to come over and check on you more often. You weren’t sure what had started his paranoia. Maybe you could drag it out of him today over a slice of pie?

However, when you arrived in the clearing and made your way around the side of his house, he wasn’t there chopping wood like he normally was. His truck was still out front though, so maybe he was inside. You trotted back around, climbing up the veranda steps to rap on the door.

“Hello! Steve?” The door was slightly ajar, and you called through the gap.

“I’m in here, honey!”

Honey? Why was Steve calling you that? Odd.

You pushed the door open and walked in. Steve was standing in the corner by his stove, a cast iron skillet resting on the top, with something sizzling within it. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and turned towards you, a wide smile on his face. You smiled in return, glad to see he was in a better mood today.

“What have you brought me, doll? You know your baking is the highlight of my week.”

You waved your hand at him in a shoo-ing gesture, feeling heat travel up your neck and to your cheeks.

“Steve! Don’t embarrass me. And if my cooking is the highlight of your week, then you need to get out more.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes sparkling.

“But I don’t wanna get out more. Sorta the point of living all the way up here, just like you.”

He had a point

“Touche.”

You breezed past him, your cotton dress swishing around your knees, as you made your way to his kitchen counter, placing your basket upon it and lifting out the pie. Steve came up behind you and peered over your shoulder. Part of your brain was disturbed by how close he was to you, but the other part reassured you that it was just Steve. He was so big that he felt close, no matter where he was in the room in relation to you.

“Oooh, apple! How’d you know it was my favorite, doll?”

You turned your head over your shoulder to look up at him. He really was a handsome man, and if you weren’t set on your path of self improvement and being man-free, you could easily do something stupid, but you didn’t want to lose his friendship.

“Who doesn’t like apple pie?”

He chuckled.

“You won that point, sweetheart. Will you stay for lunch? I’m cooking steak.”

You were sorely tempted. It did smell delicious, and all you had planned for you back at your cabin was grilled cheese and some soup. As you contemplated you nibbled your lower lip.

“I really shouldn’t. I’ve got some work to do, and I don’t want to impose.”

“Don’t be silly, honey. You fit right in, in here. Makes it feel more homely when you’re around. But how come you’ve still got work?”

“You know, cos I work.”

His brow furrowed.

“No, you don’t.”

What?

“Umm, yes I do.”

“You are silly, doll. You did work, but you resigned, remember?”

You spun around to face him and found yourself trapped between his large frame and the counter, his arms barricading you in. A prickle of unease made its way up your spine.

“No I didn’t. I think I’d remember if I resigned from the job I love.”

“But you love me more than that silly job though, don’t you, honey? You resigned so you could be with me. Live here and keep me company and have our babies.”  He smiled at you. A smile you didn’t recognise on his face. Ducking under his arm you stomped across the room.

“I don’t know what type of joke you’re trying to make, Steve, but it’s not funny.

You started to make your way towards the door, but found yourself pulled to a stop by Steve’s arms wrapping around you. In other circumstances this would be wonderful, but with the way Steve was acting and things he was saying, you were entirely freaked out.

“Steve! Let me go! I’m not in the mood. I want to go home and I’ll speak to you later when you can be nice.”

You repressed a shiver as his face came down to your neck, his nose sliding up it, followed by his beard, that rasped and tickled over your sensitive skin.

“I am being nice, honey. And you don’t need to go anywhere. You are home.”

You tried to break out of his hold, but his arms were like steel bands around your frame.

“Steve! It’s not funny any more. I have work to do.”

He growled low in his throat, and you froze.

“I told you, you don’t have work any more. You might not have sent the letter, but I knew you wanted to be here with me. It was easy to get their address from your payslip when I picked up your mail. Told them you didn’t want to be contacted, and they just had to accept it.”

As his words settled in your brain, your struggles began anew, and with more vigour. Steve wasn’t just being strange, he was downright deluded! You kicked at his shins and tried to wriggle out of his grip, chanting “Let me go! Let me go!” But all Steve did was shush you, like you were a toddler having a tantrum.

“Shh, shh, honey. Don’t be like this. You accused me of not being nice, but what is this, huh?”

One of his large hands came up over your mouth, and he pinched your nose between his finger and thumb. Your eyes went wide with panic as your head started to swim.

“Calm down, doll. Take it easy. That’s it. That’s it. Sleep now.”

Your vision went spotty as your heels kicked ineffectually against him, your lungs burning as you started to run out of air. Then it all went dark.

Your body trembled, waves of pleasure running through you, despite the uncomfortable ache in your shoulders and arms. The ecstasy continued, and you whined, not knowing if you wanted it to stop or continue. It had been so long since you’d felt it and…

Your memory returned like a flood. Your eyes shot open to see Steve’s blue eyes looking up at you from between your legs, where he was feasting on your cunt, bringing you to your peak even as you lay unconscious. Those pools of ocean blue danced when he saw your awareness come back in, and he sucked harder, tipping your traitorous body back over the edge, moans leaving your mouth against your will.

As you came back down from your orgasm,and gained more control over yourself, you tried to shift, moving your legs up the bed and away from him, but a sudden twist caused pain to arch down your arm. That’s when you realised that both your upper limbs were bound above your head. You drew your gaze away from a grinning Steve -  a Steve whose beard was soaked from your release - to peer up at how you were tied.

Shoelaces. Tied around your wrist, loose enough that they wouldn’t cut off your blood supply, but tight enough that you couldn’t slide your hand out unless you managed to dislocate both your thumbs.

Steve crawled up the bed slowly, but you couldn’t get away. He cupped your face and kissed you, your own scent filling your nose as he forced your mouth open and invaded you with his tongue. The denim of his jeans scraped your thighs, thighs that were sensitive and raw from the burn of his beard as he’d violated you.

“Hey, welcome back, honey. Sorry I started without you, but you looked so sweet, I couldn’t help myself. Been waiting a long time, ever since Wilson and Barnes told me that a beautiful young thing was interested in the property.”

Wilson and Barnes? That was the name of the realtor company that had brokered the sale of your cabin to you. How did Steve know them?

“My old friends knew exactly what I needed in my retirement. I spent so long saving the world - it owed me. And look… it gave me you, honey. And we’re going to be so happy. I know it. You just gotta let yourself get used to it.”

He was mad. Saving the world? What on earth did he mean?

“And when you’re ready, you can be Mrs. Rogers. Would you like that, sweetheart? How many ladies get the opportunity to get married to one Captain America, while another and the Winter Soldier act as witnesses.”

Rogers? How had you gone these last months without finding out his last name? Everything slotted together like a frightening puzzle in your mind. Why you’d felt so at ease with Steve when you’d first met him, why he seemed familiar despite having never met him. It was the beard - it had been enough to stop you instantly recognising America’s Golden Boy, thought dead after the final battle against Thanos. And Sam Wilson, the new Captain America had sanctioned - had assisted! - in this kidnapping, as a favour to his old comrade.

You heard the metal sound of Steve’s jeans zipper and it triggered your fight instinct.

“No! No! Get off! I don’t want this. I don’t want this!” You bucked your hips but only succeeded in rubbing your bare mound over Steve’s bulge, encased solely by his briefs.

Steve looked down at you with condescension.

“Honey, you’re too shocked by all this to know what you want, and I think you need to stop talking before you say something you’ll regret. Let me help you with that.”

He reached to the side, to a scrap of fabric lying near your feet. He enclosed it in his large hand and brought it up to his face, eyes closing as he took a long, indrawn breath through his nose. Part of the cloth poked out from between his fingers and you recognised it as your panties.

“Fuck! Now that you’re here I can smell this delicious scent whenever I want…” He opened his eyes and looked back down at you. “...and taste it too. But right now, I need you to understand that we belong together.”

With his free hand he squeezed your cheeks, forcing your mouth open, and even as you glared at him he pushed your panties into your mouth, then stroked the side of your face with the back of his knuckles

“There. You look so pretty, honey. Hope you’re ready? You’re gonna enjoy this - I know I will.”

You knew you should still be struggling, but as he pushed his jeans off and followed it quickly with his plaid shirt, part of you knew there was no point. He was too big. Too strong. Too determined. Any resistance would probably end up with you being hurt even more.

As Steve pulled down his briefs you turned your head away, a tear rolling down your cheek. It appeared that despite your best intentions, you’d been colour blind - mistaking the red flags for green.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @lunarbuck

[buckymorelikefuckme]

freakness on the loose

dark steve rogers x dark fem reader

words: 2.1k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, oral (f receiving), public sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), spitting, implied/referenced violence. if i missed anything pls let me know!

a/n: this is my first dark fic but i feel like it's more dark-lite djdjdnd anyway i hope you all like it! any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

The booming bass of the club thrummed through you, practically making the blood in your veins vibrate. You sway your hips sensually from your perch on the balcony of the luxury VIP room, watching the people below, waving your fingers flirtatiously at anyone who meets your gaze.

And plenty of people are looking. You’re wearing a skin-tight dress with thin straps, sheer and covered in Swarovski crystals, the only thing underneath it being your tiny black thong, leaving your tits on full display. The chunky, platform heels on your feet made your legs look extra long and toned. You look hot and you know it. It's exactly the type of outfit you wore when you wanted to cause trouble.

As much as you loved teasing people, letting them drink in the image of your body and ache for more, it never took long for you to get bored.

With a dull sigh, you turn around, leaning back against the railing of the balcony and shifting your attention to the men in the room. Steve sits languidly on the velvet sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey held loosely in his hand. His expression mirrors your boredom. The man sitting opposite him doesn't seem to care as he drones on and on, stroking his own ego as he talks himself up.

You already knew why Steve wanted to meet with him. A low-ranking dealer who's become a little too self important, thinks he's hot shit and that he runs more than he's been given. Steve hates when his generosity is taken advantage of.

You slowly make your way over to the two men, stopping next to Steve and taking the whiskey from his hand, downing it one go.

The man stops speaking abruptly, cutting off his gloating about getting a personal meeting with the boss. You nearly laugh. It's hilarious that these guys never stop to think how it could be a bad thing to be called in to speak with Steve.

“Goddamn,” the man whose name you didn't bother learning mutters, eyeing your body hungrily. “A woman like you who can handle her alcohol? That's sexy.”

If it wasn't for the music coming from the speakers, the room would be far too quiet in the moment that follows. You turn sharp eyes on the man, who merely smirks.

Hm… This will be fun.

“Yeah? You think I'm sexy?” Your voice is a purr. You step into his space and bury your fingers through his hair, light and unassuming, until you fist the strands harshly and yank his head back. His gasp is thrilling. “You wanna fuck me?”

His eyes are wide, shocked, and he must see the way your own eyes are blazing, because the taunting leer has fallen off his stupid face.

“C’mon, I’m just kidding,” he tries, swallowing roughly as his gaze flits from you to Steve.

You pout. “So you don't think I’m sexy? You’re sending me mixed signals here, baby. Do you want me or not?”

He looks at Steve, apprehension making his shoulders hunch. Steve stares back, face unreadable, which seems to only add to his discomfort.

“Stevie,” you begin, plopping down in the man’s lap, biting back a manic grin at the way he freezes beneath you, hands hovering as far away from your body as possible. “He's hurting my feelings.”

“No, hey, wait—”

“Answer her question.”

The deep, commanding tone of Steve’s voice makes you press your thighs together, eyelids becoming heavier with desire. You adore the way Steve is looking at you right now, at the man whose lap you're perched on. Like he'd rip him to shreds in a blink and fuck you next to his desecrated remains. It's delicious.

“Look, it was just a joke—” the man tries again, but it's nowhere near the right thing to say.

“Ah, so she's a joke to you, then?” Steve wonders, tilting his head.

The man sputters. “N-No! Of course not, I just—” He stops, choosing his words carefully, though he's pretty much dug his grave already. “You're very attractive. The boss is a lucky man.”

Your lips pull up into a grin, tracing the shell of his ear with your thumb. “Do you wanna be a lucky man?”

Sensing he's headed for shark infested waters, the man backtracks. “I think it's time for me to go, actually.”

“Mm, no, that's not happening,” you say with a sickly sweet smile. You boop his nose. “We’re not done with you yet.”

Steve rises from the sofa, tall and imposing. You bite your lip in anticipation.

“Why don't you and your friend come sit here, sweetheart?” Steve suggests, nodding to the sofa behind him.

“Really, sir, I—”

“Don't make me repeat myself.”

The man glances warily at you and Steve. You stand, tugging him to follow and shoving him to sit in Steve’s vacated spot, returning to his lap. He keeps his hands to himself still, but you know that's gonna change soon.

Steve leans over, capturing your lips in a slow kiss, licking into your mouth as he cups your jaw. He pulls away and drops to his knees. You shift impatiently on the man’s lap, seeing his hands clench into fists on the cushion out of your peripheral. Steve nudges you back, making you rest your weight along the man’s torso.

“Open up for me, darlin’,” he instructs.

You spread your legs, draping them on either side of the man’s knees.

“Wait, what are you doing?” his strained voice asks.

“Shut up,” Steve replies.

The man’s mouth shuts with an audible click.

Steve pulls your thong to the side and runs the fingers of his free hand along your slick center. You moan softly. He leans in, putting his mouth on your pussy and sinking two fingers inside you.

“Fuck, Stevie, that's good,” you breathe, reaching up to release your tits from the top of your dress so you can pinch your nipples.

Steve continues to fingerfuck you and suck on your clit, bringing you close to your peak within minutes, knowing your body like it's his own. You usually like to cum multiple times, but you're not sure how long he’ll last before he’ll want to take care of the man under you.

He pulls his fingers out, spitting on your cunt before sliding three fingers back inside you, curling them expertly as your whines get louder and louder. Your hips roll, chasing your high. The movement makes the man grow hard beneath you and you laugh. Steve’s noticed, too, of course, and he doubles his efforts, eyes locked on yours as the heat coiling in your belly finally snaps. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you and Steve drags it out until you're twitching. He rises to his full height, sucking his fingers clean as you come down from your high.

“Keep her legs open,” Steve orders as he unbuttons his slacks, lowering the zipper and pulling out his hard cock.

Shakily, and without having to be told a second time, the man cradles your spread thighs. His grip is loose, though, and Steve sneers.

“You wanted to fuck her but that's how you're gonna touch her? That's fucking insulting. Do it right.” The man’s hold tightens and Steve grins, voice low and condescending as he says, “There you go. Now lie back.”

“W-What?” he stutters.

“You heard me. On your back, now.”

The man adjusts your positions, shifting until he can lie sideways on the sofa. Steve’s stare is getting wilder and wilder by the second. He joins the two of you, and knowing what's coming, you wiggle excitedly.

When he finally slides into your dripping cunt, it's with you lying on top of the man while he still holds your legs spread open. Only, now Steve has the man’s legs spread as well, fitting himself between them so that when he fucks into you the man below you feels it too. Steve’s thrusts jostle both your bodies, and giddy giggles bubble out of you mixed with pleasured cries of Steve’s name.

You turn your head, moaning and whining directly into the man’s ear, wanton and needy. You can see the way his face burns in shame and it only adds to the desire building in your core.

“Aren’t you fucking lucky?” you gasp as your pussy welcomes the stretch of Steve’s cock. “You get to witness how good Stevie fucks me.”

He remains silent, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough that you wonder if they'll leave marks. For his sake, you hope not. He's not coming out of tonight unscathed as it is. You'd hate for him to make it worse.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’ll probably watch Steve and his goons teach him a lesson later and it'll be another highlight of your night, second only to this current moment.

“You know, I should chop your fucking hands off at the wrists for touching my girl,” Steve muses, grunting as you clench around him.

“You–You told me to!” the man replies, panicked.

Steve laughs meanly and the sound goes straight to your cunt. “If I told you to walk into oncoming traffic, would you do that, too?” His thrusts get harder, sharper, making you mewl, your hands reaching to pluck at your nipples again. “Little bitches like you never learn,” Steve hisses. “You think you're some big hotshot, just because I give you a job to do. It's fucking pathetic.” He leans down, bracing himself with his hands on either side of the bodies under him as he picks up the pace. “And then when I bring my girl around you stupid pricks, you forget your manners and disrespect her, without fail. You think you can fuck her better than I can? Huh? Answer me!”

“No, sir!”

You're mindless now, mouthing wetly at Steve’s neck, biting and sucking kisses into the skin there, just wanting to feel whatever you can of him. You writhe, whining, begging for more, for release, for everything.

“Who's fucking you so good, sweetheart? Who's wrecking your pretty pussy?” Steve prods.

“Stevie is,” you whimper. “Please, Stevie, make me cum, wanna cum, please.”

Steve lifts himself up, spitting on your clit, smirking at the way it makes you moan, then starts rubbing fast circles into the swollen flesh. You're loud enough now that you're sure the club goers downstairs can hear you. The thought fans the flames in your core.

All too soon, you feel your high cresting. You babble nonsense, hands never staying in one spot, tugging your own hair, your nipples, digging your nails into Steve’s back through his crisp, white button down shirt. When your orgasm hits, you grin like a mad woman.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” you chant, laughing, moaning.

You clench around Steve’s cock, over and over, the pleasure never ending. Steve groans above you, fucking into you roughly as he chases his own high.

“In me, Stevie, please, cum in me,” you beg, “mark me from the inside.”

“Fuck,” Steve gasps, thrusting one, two, three more times before stilling, moaning as he spills inside your cunt.

You hum, entirely pleased, pulling Steve down into a dirty kiss. It takes a few minutes for the rigid body beneath you to register in your cum-drunk brain. You pull away, grinning at Steve as he sits up, sliding out of you. He gathers the mixture of your slick and his cum, bringing it to your lips. With a coy look, you suck on his fingers, swallowing the taste of the two of you with a moan.

“Now,” Steve starts, putting his cock back in his slacks, “my girl’s gonna get up and fix her clothes, and then you and I are gonna head out back to have another chat.”

Resigned to his fate, the man simply nods.

Steve helps you stand and put your thong back in place, pressing kisses to the tops of your tits before you pull your dress back up. You can't resist kissing him one more time, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, loving the feel of his large hands on the small of your back. He smacks your ass and breaks the kiss.

“Can't I watch, Stevie?” you ask, jutting your bottom lip out.

“You might get your pretty dress dirty, darlin’.”

You pout. “Please?”

“Okay, okay, I suppose it's fair,” Steve sighs.

You clap your hands happily, giggling. You turn to the man sitting on the sofa who looks two seconds away from bursting into tears and send him a sunny smile.

“It's my turn to watch!”

Steve huffs a laugh, signaling to his men who've been lurking in the shadows to come collect the sorry piece of shit beside you. He doesn't put up too much of a fight, which is a little disappointing, but you're sure he’ll be begging for mercy soon enough.

[darkserenity24]

F&C Ch 6 will be posted either tonight or tomorrow. Brewing Amnesia will be next on the update list, then part 2 of Birthday Bash and so on. Very excited 😌

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar

Complete

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7