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booobooothefool · 14 days

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LITERALLY FOAMING AT THE MOUTHHHH while waiting to pick up my parents at the airport!!!

Winter's King 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: this one came out of no where.

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

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

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s uncharacteristically grim on the plains of Debray. Rains pelt the tall green grasses, flattening them in a slanted downpour that dims the horizon. Clouds blot out the daylight and lend to atmosphere of unease in the warring lands.

Behind the castle walls, one can forget about the bloodshed staining the counties red, though it is all the dukes and his audience can speak of. The lords that bluster through those gates, sometimes at the toll of morning, some in the black swathes of night. You can’t count them all, you can name even fewer, but they come anon and leave just as brusquely.

A peel of thunder shakes the land and a dark line limns the curve of the horizon. What appears first as a storm cloud advances quickly through the fields, appearing more clearly to the naked eye, distant nonetheless. Men. Another party fast on the approach.

The alarm goes up at a man’s holler. Ethred, man at the gate hollers to the other men in mail. Niam peers out from the vantage of the tower and calls back down. A hush falls and bodies scurry all around, metal clinking and boots crunching. There’s something amiss. Something you can’t quite place.

You turn away from the window, the steam rising from the basin in your hand swirling around your head. You carry on down the corridor, wool skirts around cautious steps as you balance the swaying water in the vessel. You approach the lady’s door and give it a rap with your knee. Merinda, another handmaid, opens it from within.

You enter without a word and place the basin on the vanity table. The duke’s daughter preens herself with a painted fan, fluttering her lashes at her reflection as her curls spill down her long back. She tilts her head this way and that. She snaps the fan shut and puts it down, touching her soft brown cheeks with a devilish grin.

“Do you know what father mentioned last eve?” Jazlene asks with a vain flutter of her lashes.

“What did he mention?” Her mother, Lady Rezlyn prompts lazily as she plucks another cherry from a dish heaped in fruit.

“A husband,” the daughter grins coyly at herself, “it is well due, isn’t it, mother? Who do you think it might be? Lord Gai, perhaps? He is young still.”

“Perhaps the Earl of Mesafin,” her mother taunts back to a disgusted gasp.

“Do not,” Jazlene pouts, “I could never... I am much too pretty for that haggard beast.”

“Well, then, who might you have, precious?” Rezlyn goads.

There is a clamour in the hall that keeps the younger of the woman from answering. She rolls her eyes and darkly glare at the door. You peer back behind your shoulder as a wail goes up carrying her father’s name; ‘Lord Dustan!’

“What is all that?” Jazlene whines, “as if it isn’t enough with the rain and the winds. It is summer!”

“It’s always summer in Debray, darling,” Rezlyn scoffs, “otherwise I’d have never married your father. Pray you don’t hook yourself a winter lord.”

You peek over your shoulder as you stand near the door, in your vigil, awaiting your next order. You face the ladies again as the elder continues to feast and the younger fusses over her thick brows. You scrunch your lips back and forth, a habit that often has your jaw aching.

Jazlene turns to narrow her eyes at you, “what is it then? What has you making faces?”

You bow your head, appeasing her ego, “my lady, there were men coming. A party approaching from the north.”

“There are always men,” she shakes her head, “who was it then? Anyone I should wear silk for?”

Her mother laughs, “I warn you, daughter, that trite tongue will not endear any husband.”

“I do not know, lady,” you answer.

“Ugh, useless, must I work as my own handmaid?” Jazlene tisks, “come, pin my hair. Merinda find me a gown. Mother... wipe the dribble from your chin.”

“Eh, watch yourself,” Lady Rezlyn rises and wipes her lips with her sleeve. She wears muslin in a dark shade of burgundy, embroidered with little copper finches. “Or hope you marry above me before you lash that tongue at me.”

Jazlene merely trills with laughter. You take the pins and work at twisting her fine curls into place. Merinda brings to her a dress of teal satin and is promptly shooed away, “something pink. It brings out my bosom.”

You ignore her bawdy jest as her mother harrumphs. You work in quiet tandem with the other handmaid. You add a touch of paint to the lady’s cheeks and kohl around her eyes. You tint her lips with pigment and she pushes out her lips at the mirror. You help Merinda dress her, pulling the noble daughter’s corset tight enough to leave her lightheaded.

The pair of ladies, elder and younger, leave the chamber with you at their skirt tails. They sweep through the corridors with chins up. They are queens in their own minds. Their fine dresses and sparkling gems are untouched by the disparity of war. The lives lost are squares on a game board, tawdry talk for men in their studies.

“Lord Dustan,” Lady Rezlyn mimics the earlier call for the lord of the castle, “my husband. Dear, dear husband!”

The women go to the banister and look down upon the great hall as the flurry continues below. You and Merinda loom behind, not daring to stand at a level with the pompous nobles. You have never volunteered yourself for their impetuous lashings.

“Woman!” Dustan booms back up, “do not trouble me now.”

“Oh, has another lord come? Perhaps a suitor for our lovely daughter--”

“Cease!” The duke demands hotly, “now is not the time for womanly games.”

“Tell me it true, husband, she will be an old maid before you find a suiting son-in-law--”

“Go away to your chambers. Now. The men who come are not to be trifled with and you lot do trifle overly much!”

“Bah! Oh do not be so uncouth!” Rezlyn decries.

“Father, please, is it a husband?”

“Go before I send my guards up to put you away like thieves in a dungeon. Hear me when I warn you that this does not concern you. Not as yet,” Dustan snarls, “you would spoil this war with your puny concerns.”

“Ugh,” his wife puts her hand to her forehead, “he does tax me. All I ask of him is to take care of us, daughter. As any husband should.”

“I should have your lips sewn shut!” Dustan rebukes hotly, “be gone before I find a tailor.”

The women share an aghast look. The turn back to flutter away in their skirts. You and Merinda follow them to the drawing room, closing them in as they fall onto the velvet cushions. Jazlene reclines dramatically on the chaise as her mouth mopes on a sofa.

“Shall I be alone forever, mother?” Jazlene snivels, “why won’t he let me marry?”

“He only wants to find the right man, that is all, darling,” Rezlyn coaxes. “He is overprotective and that is good for it means he will find a husband for you with a similar bearing.”

“Such sweet words cannot convince me. He punishes me. When all my lady friends have wed and borne a whelp or two, I remain with the dust and stone.”

“Do not be theatrical,” Rezlyn girds, “you are silly.”

“I am not silly, mother. I am afraid. I am twenty and three and I have no suitor. I have only a war butchering any man who might have my hand. Why must this go on? Why must I suffer for the gripes of stubborn kings.”

“We cannot fear. This war will be won and you will have a knight for a husband. Isn’t that better? To have a warrior you can be proud of than some bookish lord in his tower?” Rezlyn stands and moves to sit with her daughter, petting her as she cooes, “oh my beautiful, no man can resist you. You will see.”

⚔️

Some hours pass with the restless women, pacing and chattering, about careless things beyond marriage and war. Like needlework and a banquet that should be had upon the truce. Would that the day would come sooner.

You and Merinda stifle yawns that pass between you. The act is contagious as you stand in the tedium of the wealthy and wait for a duty to be called upon you. The hours you spend watching the women preen and swoon make you envy the stable boys and the shit shovelers.

The noise beyond those walls continues. You heard the moat open and the clopping hooves of horses, even the clatter of carts. The voices had since hushed but footfalls carried back and forth. The wordless activity betrays an air of impatience, almost of nervousness. As the ladies within mirror the sentiment.

Finally, as the windows darken and the candles burn brighter, a knock shakes the door. The ladies snap their heads around. Merinda is asleep on her feet as you move first. You open to a man in grey and black waits on the other side. He is not Lord Dustan’s.

“The duchess and her daughter,” he garbles through a mouth that sounds full of salt.

You dip your head and look to the ladies in question. There is a tension, of unease, of unknowing, of excitement turned to dread. This is not as it has been. There is not call to the dinner table. There is no buoyant introduction of a lord Dustan met as a young scamp. There is silence and fear. Has someone died? Has a battle been lost?

The women emerge and greet the man with niceties and tight-lipped simpers. He does not pay them heed as you and Merinda exchange looks. You trail after the ladies but the man stops. He turns back, a hand on the pommel at his waist, and sneers, a furrow in his brow.

“One of ya,” he grits.

Jazlene says your name. She must’ve noticed Merinda swaying on her feet. If she even cares so much about a maid. You keep your head down and follow as they press on. Down the corridor and around the duke’s study, recently deemed his war room. You’ve never been within. It is not the domain of women.

The grey and black soldier thumps on the door. Mother and daughter clasp hands. Even they can sense the unusual frigidity. The door opens from within. It is Lord Dustan. He wears a serious look on his lined face. The ladies are beckoned in and the soldier nudges you after them as you hesitate.

Lanterns light the space from the desk at the rear of the chamber. The large table draped in maps, wooden horses, and little wooden pucks stands central on a thick rug. A figure stands behind it, head down as his burly and broad silhouette seems to sop up the shadows.

The ladies follow the duke to stand across from the man. His head is down as he slides a horse along a road on the map. He stops it and grips it tight. He looks up and the lantern light dances on his features. You suck in a breath, as the rest do, stunned by his appearance.

His hair is white, his eyes are a goldish yellow, pupils deep pools of black, and his square jaw is just as thick as the rest of him. You have never seen a man like him before, but you have heard of one. Of him. King Geralt of Rivia.

You stand in similar confusion to the ladies. Their silent confoundment is broken by Duke Dustan as he nears the table. He sniffs and presses his fingers to the table top.

“Your highness, my wife, Lady Rezlyn, and my daughter, Lady Jazlene,” he introduces.

The women glance at each other then curtsy to the white king. He watches them dully. You fold your hands, taking it in curiously. It is rather something to witness the scene. You are so unimportant as to not be a part of it.

“Your highness,” the recite, “it is...”

“An honour,” Dustan finishes for them, “of course it is. We fondly welcome you and your allyship. We hope that we will be essential in ending this war. In helping you attain the peace you have so valiantly fought for--”

The king raises his hand to silence the lord. You can’t help but quork your head. Allyship? But King Geralt, he is of Rivia, he is of the hinterland, he is the one who invaded the summer country and bid it his own. He is the foe. That is what they told you.

“Enough...” the king speaks in a silty tone that scrapes in his throat. His eyes wander over the women and narrow. You wince as your own meet his golden irises and you shy away, putting your chin to your chest. That’s a mistake. “...words.” He slaps his hand down, “you do not win wars with words.”

“Yes, your highness, you are correct. I know it well. It is why I invited you here. It is the very reason I made my entreaty. You have my men, they will win this war for you.”

The king is hardly impressed by the fact. He looks back to the table and moves the horse further before turning it back. He knocks it over and stands completely straight.

“And the daughter of Debray, your highness. To have a wife of summer’s blood, men will bend the knee. If you show them you do not mean to eradicate but to join with them,” Dustan moves to stand closer to his daughter, “isn’t she a fine queen for a fine kingdom?”

Jazlene swoons and falls against her father. She’s fainted. Rezlyn grabs onto her other shoulder and you peek up at the chaotic scene. You come forward to help, snatching a pillow from the single couch, and you place it under Jazlene’s head as they lay her down on the floor.

A shadow shifts as Dustan and Rezlyn fuss over their daughter, fanning and calling to her. You look up as darkness clusters over you. You see the king staring down at the scene. No, not them. He staring at you. Before he can reprimand you, you put your head down.

You must quit that lest you find yourself at the wrong end of a switch.

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booobooothefool · 17 days

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ROO!!! ROOOOOOOOOO!!!! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

BABEEEEEE!!! I AM NAWING AT THE IRON BARS!!!

Make You Work

Sequel to Work It Out

Warnings: noncon, body insecurity, minimal editing.

Trainer!Clark Kent x short!chubby!reader; we didn't think this one was gonna happen, did we?

To those who read, I’d love a thot or two of what you think!

You press your back to the lockers. You can’t breath. Your skin speckles in a new sheen of sweat as you stare at the beast before you. The man with his damp curls and flushed cheeks, stone set in his jaw. The flames in his eyes scald you.

“Clark?” You croak, terrified.

He moves, too fast for you to react. You cry out, your feet tangling as you throat out your arm and drop your jeans onto the floor. He catches your arm and pulls you back, pinning you to the lockers as he snarls down at you. You brace yourself, whimpering as grabs your other wrist and forces your arms straight above you. You wriggle and flutter your lashes as tears sting in your eyes.

“Clark, please, what are you doing?” You puff breathlessly.

“I need you,” he growls as his humid breath fans over you.

“No--”

Your voice snags in your throat as his eyes drop down. He looks down at himself and you follow his gaze to the front of his shorts. You see the bulge beneath the dark fabric, twitching as you gasp. You tug on your wrists to no avail as he pushes them together, squeezing them tight as he wraps them in a single hand.

His other roams down to your shoulder and his fingertips brush up your neck. You squeak as traces the line of you chin and pushes his knuckle against your lips. You stare up at him through welling eyes. You might be flattered if you weren’t so damn scared.

He drags his hand back down, trailing down your throat and along your chest. His fingers rest over your ragged heartbeat and he tilts his hand to cup you through your bra. You shiver as he gropes you.

“Please,” you beg in a willowy whisper, a tear riveting down your cheek.

He doesn’t seem to hear you. There’s a tint to his eyes that makes you doubt he can. He slips his hand around the band of your bra and forces his between you and the metal doors. He pinches and swiftly unhooks the clasp. The fabric slacks and lifts as your tits drop out the bottom. It stays strung across your chest as your arms remain locked in his clutches.

He brings his touch back to your chest, jiggling each tit, rolling his thumb around your rigid nipples. He purrs and dips his head. You cry out as he takes a bud in his mouth abruptly, his warmth seeping in you. Your sneakers squeak on the floor as you shift helplessly.

He nips and you babble, more tears flowing as you shake your head. This isn’t happening. He can’t do this. He wouldn’t. Not to you. You’re not... good enough.

He flicks his tongue around and sends a thrill down your spine. His hand wanders down your stomach and you suck in, conscious of your extra cushion. He tickles along the top of your panties, the one’s he said were so cute only moments before. A compliment you took as a taunt.

He pushes his fingers flat against you and slips beneath the cotton. You tilt your head up and gnash your teeth, staring up at his grip still firm around your wrists. It isn’t as nice as you once fantasized. All those years when you thought you would die to have a man like him look your way. This just feels... suffocating.

He grazes along your glossy curls and you squirm. You squeeze your legs together against his touch and he growls against your skin. He teethes you as his breath stains your chest. He nuzzles between your tits as he pokes two fingers between your folds, curling them as he forces them against you.

Your knees buckles as your hip pangs suddenly. You whimper as the shock that zips up your leg, feet slipping apart as you try not to collapse. You don’t think you actually would, just dangle from his grasp like a puppet.

He pushes further, his hand lodging between your thighs as he feels along your cunt. He drags his fingertips back and forth, rubbing you as your insides coil. A slick layer coats your lips, smearing around as lifts his head higher, burying it in the crook of your neck as he prods around your entrance.

He drags his fingertips back and toys with your clit, flicking, swirling, swiping, teasing until your puffing wildly up at the ceiling. Your lip trembles as your chest burns. The sensations meld into a store of horror and delight.

He snarls and bites into the tendon of your neck, pinching as the tension builds inside of you. Your thighs strain shake as you arch your back. A whine rises from your throat as sparks scatter through you and orgasm rents right up your middle. Your stomach muscles knots and your eyes roll back.

It’s wrong, you know it is, but you can’t and won’t stop him.

He pants against you, in time with you, as if he could feel the same release. He unlatches his mouth from you and raises himself up. He looks down at you and jerks you forward away from the lockers. You yelp as pout helplessly. His eyes creep up and down your body as he slips his hand free of your panties.

He spins you suddenly, releasing your arms as you exclaim and flail towards the bench. You catch yourself on the metal, bent over and breathless as he closes you in from behind. He grabs your hips and you try to stand. He grips the back of your neck and holds you down, your ass up as he presses his crotch against you.

He rocks his hips, simulating his intent as he grunts. His fingers crawl around your waistline and he rips the elastic down your ass. You yipe and squirm as the fabric falls just above your knees. He kicks your feet further part as he squeezes your neck till it tweaks.

He feels along the front of his shorts and yanks them down. You fill him spring out against your ass, the rigid flesh rubbing between your cheeks. Your knees touch the bench and you lean forward, only for him to pinch your neck tighter. You relent as he guides his tip along the curve of your ass.

You close your eyes and grit your teeth. Your hang your head as he bends his knees. He rubs himself against your folds, pausing to push against your entrance, before repeating the motion. Down, up, down, up, then he stops, poking until you feel your cunt stretching around his tip.

He splits you in half slowly. That’s what it feels like. He rocks patiently, inch by inch, dipping deeper and deeper. The hot invasion has you moaning and mewling as your head lolls back and forth. His hand slides to your shoulder and his fingers curl into the muscle there.

He leans into you until you’re on your toes. You whine as his pelvis presses to your ass. He wiggles as he buries himself completely in your taut walls. He groans and holds himself there.

He exhales as he pulls back and your insides clench. As he slides back in you whimper. How do you feel even more full then before.

He grabs your hip and pulls your ass higher as he thrusts again. Still slow, still patient. His deep groans drone through the air.

His hand drifts down your back as his rhythm slowly builds. He brings it to your other hip, holding you in place as he rolls his hips against your ass. He growls and bucks harder, jolting you as you cry out. Your shoulders wrack as his nails dig into your flesh.

He snaps his pelvis again. You mewl and he lifts your feet off the ground, holding you just off it as your bodies clop together. He rams into you, harder, deeper, furiously battering you as he loses all control. You keep your hands on the bench, dangling helplessly as he uses you.

He slides his hand away from your hop and hooks his arm across your stomach. He pulls you up flush to him and your head falls against his shoulder. He clings to you, keeping you hovering as he ruts wildly, puffing over you as he bounces you against him.

“You’re so sexy,” he snarls, “can’t you feel it?”

He pounds harder and harder as your voice fizzles out and you reach back to latch onto his thick shoulder. His fucks you furiously as you bite down on your tongue, spasming. You cum again, even less ready for it than before.

He turns and pushes you against the lockers. He crushes you as he jerks his hips up, over and over, grunting and growl as his hand runs up to knead your chest. He presses the tip of his nose to your grown and groans as he quakes. You feel him cum inside of you, fucking it into you until he’s whimpering.

He stills, urging himself as deep as he can go. You gurgle and press a shaky hand to the metal. He lifts his head and kisses the top of your head. Slowly, he lowers you to the floor and slides out of you. A gush spills down your thigh as only your gasping breaths meet your ears.

You lean, trembling, on the lockers and stiffly roll to face him. Your panties droop to your ankles as he pulls his shorts up. He cracks his neck, one way then the other, and shakes out his arms. He blows out a sigh and pushes back his curls. He smirks at you as his blue eyes glint.

“Good work out,” he chuckles as he wipes his forehead, “don’t forget to stretch.”

He spins on his heel, whistling as he struts away. You stare after him, stunned, and slide slowly down to your ass as your knees finally give out. You bow your head and reach under you, feeling along your swollen lips as you flinch.

You feel empty and torn. You snatch your hand away and mop the tears from your damp cheeks. You didn’t even realise you were still crying. You fix your bra and reach back to hook it in place. Every muscle in your body hurts.

You put your hand down and lean forward, groaning as you lift yourself to hands and knees. You crawl to grab your jeans the shift towards the bench. You grab it and push, forcing your feet under you, one then the other.

You stand, swaying, and shake out your pants. It takes you several tries to step into them.

When you finally get them buttoned, you pull on your jersey shirt then the zip-up you wore over it. You zip up your gym bag with your phone inside and ball up your gym clothes. You care them to the bin by the door and waver at the threshold. You drop them into the garbage and make yourself leave.

You stumble through the gym, looking straight and no where else. Is he there? Is he watching? Will he follow you again?

You walk faster and faster, unsteady and clumsy as you rush towards the stairs. Your fear bubbles up with the humiliation. You don’t let it boil over it, fighting desperately to outpace it as you clamour down the flights.

You’re never going back. Never, never again. You tried working out. It’s not for you.

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booobooothefool · 23 days

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You’ve got ME feelin for this man 🙃 like bbygirl don’t fall into the guilt, that’s not for you to feeelllll!!! The man literally barged into your life 😭…but also, I get where she’s coming from bc I do that too 🧌

Follow You Anywhere 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back again.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You enter your apartment. It doesn’t really feel like yours anymore. That man, that gargantuan invader, has tainted your safe space. You keep your head down as you brush by Sy. He reaches to squeeze your wrist and promptly lets you go.

You cringe as you march stiffly down the entryway.

“Thank you, officers,” he says, “sorry to trouble ya like this. You have a good one.”

“You too, sir,” one responds, “hopefully your homecoming gets a bit warmer.”

The door shuts and you flinch. You stop in the living room, shoulders sloped, head down. You can’t stop the shaking. You hear him coming as Aika sits obediently in the corner. You glance at the dog, you don’t think she can help, you don’t know that she would. She’s loyal to her owner.

Sy stalks into the front room as you cower, wring your hands in front of your chest. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you watch his shadow as he fumes and paces around. He exhales, small mutters you can’t discern. Circling around and around then suddenly stomping towards you.

You whimper and your eyes flick up as you take a step back, eyes watery with fear. He stops, just an inch away, chest puffing with fury. You bat your lashes as you wait, for what, you don’t know. For him to do something, anything.

“How could you hurt me like that, sweetie?” He hisses.

“I... don’t know--”

“You hide from me. Scare me, like that?” His voice rises, quaking as you hear him struggling to control it, “call the f—the cops?”

He can’t keep his voice from booming. He’s so loud. Like thunder crashing down around you.

“After all I did for you, you treat me like a monster. Actin’ all scared like I’d ever hurt you!” He snarls, “I wouldn’t, sweetie, and you know it. What did I ever do to make you think that, huh?” He starts to pace again, throwing his hands out as he rants, “I told you—I'm not a bad man! I’m not! I wouldn’t hurt you!” He barks as Aika puts her head down, eyes on her own, “but you hurt me. You. Hurt. Me.”

He growls and his nostrils flare as he comes back around it front of you. You peek at him from beneath tear-webbed lashes. Your heart thrums in your ears and your chest thumps. He raises his hand and you wince as he smacks himself in the head. You cry out in horror as he does it again, each time harder than the last as he continues his angry prowl.

“Sy!” You squawk.

He snarls again and beats himself with both hands, “maybe I deserve it, huh? This is what you want. For me to hurt.”

“No, I--” you heave as a sob bubbles up your throat. You don’t like violence. You never wanted this. You just want him gone. To be left alone.

He roars and throws his fist around, hitting the flower lamp off the end table. It flies off and the cord snags, sending it shattering to the floor. You whine and put your knuckles to your lips, horrified as he continues his fit. He grabs the table next, hurling it with one hand as if it weighs nothing. The draw slips out and the continues scatter.

He spins again, puffing and panting, his face red and furious. He storms towards the opposite wall and before you can understand what’s happening, he bashes his face against it. He staggers back, grips his head and blindly stumbles around.

You stand, dumbfounded, as he falls onto the couch. He sits and hangs his head, gripping it between his large hands. He breathes loudly as he leans his elbows on his knees. Your tears spill out as you hug yourself and sniffle.

You babble as you feel something against your leg. You look down as Aika nuzzles against you. You reach down to touch her snout. She licks your palm and you turn your attention back to Sy. You’ve never witnessed anything like that. You never ever wanted to hurt him. You pity him more than anything, he seems so lost.

You suck in a breath and swipe the wetness from your cheeks. You drag your foot forward as Aika stays close. You back up and go through to the kitchen. You take a clean dishcloth from the drawer and wet it under the faucet. You’re buzzing with adrenaline. You don’t know what you’re doing.

You cross the room to Sy as his breaths huff in and out. You can see the blood on his forehead as he nears. You hesitate, furling and unfurling your fingers before you touch his muscled shoulder.

“Sy,” you say softly.

He ignores you, fingertips curling into his skull, “so stupid...” you make out the words under his breath.

You squeeze him as Aika pokes her head under his arms and noses him from below. He sits up and scratches her head. He wobbles as his foggy eyes come into focus. He looks at you, a gash on his forehead and another across the bridge of his nose. You try not to react as you offer the wet cloth.

He considers it and takes it with a sigh. He dabs at the blood on his face as he watches you. You bring your palms together, rubbing them nervously, as you bounce on your feet.

“Thanks,” he mutters as Aika nudges his hand for more pets. He looks between you and the dog, “I-- I’m sorry. I let you down. Both of you.”

He stands up and you back away, folding your hands over your chest as you make yourself small. He holds the cloth against his nose and grunts. He scowls and turns away. You don’t move as he marches to the bathroom. The door snaps shut just as Aika reaches it. You hear the lock click.

You bite your lip and slowly glance towards the entry way. You stare. You could try again but to what end. Blair wouldn’t let you back in after you brought that chaos into her world and the police won’t do anything more than blame you again.

Maybe it is your fault. Sy means well...

No, no! He doesn’t belong there. This is your life.

Aika’s paws pad down the hall and she sits by the door. She knows what you’re thinking it seems. Doesn’t matter, you have nowhere to go and no one to go to.

You pivot carefully, searching for a distraction. What can you do now? You’re too addled to sit down and work or even hide away in the bedroom under the covers. You walk a circle around the room and stop yourself. You look at the wall, a smear of blood and a dent left by his collision.

You return to the kitchen and grab a paper towel. You come back to wipe away blood. When you get most of it out, you start to clean up the rest of the mess. The lamp is broken. You put the shards in a box and leave it by the door. Then you gather up the random pens and notebook and right the table before tucking it all back in the drawer.

As you stand up, you hear another click. You peer over as Sy appears. His shirt is gone. The cuts on his face are no longer bleeding but his eyes are still blazing. You gulp as his jaw tenses.

“I’m sorry I broke your lamp,” he utters dully.

You wet your lips with your tongue, “Do you want some tylenol?”

His eyebrows arch and his cheek ticks. He nods slowly, “yes, sweetie.”

You try to smile and your mouth quivers. You retreat and go to fetch the bottle of pills and some water. When you come back, he’s on the couch again.

“Head sure does hurt,” he says as he accepts the glass and the tablets.

You hum and nod. He throws back the pills and drains half the glass. He set the cup down and leans back, once more holding his head.

“Do you think... maybe you should see a doctor?” You suggest.

“I’m fine,” he growls, “got worse over in the sh—in the war.”

You scrunch up your lips and twiddle your fingers. He drops his hands and brings his head straight. You fidget as he takes you in, his eyes narrow and his expression pained. He waves you closer, “come here.”

You stop moving. You’re completely still as you stare him. His brow lowers dangerously. You near him reluctantly, wary of riling him again.

“I’m sorry I yelled, sweetie,” he takes your hand and leans forward to kiss your knuckles, “I was worked up. I thought—I was crazy. I thought I lost you, you know? But I get it. You wanted to see your friend and she... she put her nose in our business and called in the cops, huh? Jealous, I bet.”

You blanch. That’s not the truth. That isn’t what happened at all. You won’t argue.

“Yeah,” you let him cling to your hand, “I think she was just worried because she didn’t recognise you. I’m... I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you and his lips curve, “I know you’re sorry, sweetie,” he tugs on you, “but we’re all good now, aren’t we? I got you, you got me, everything’s as it should be.”

He moves you and you let him. You know better than to break the illusion again. He angles you onto his lap and your body locks up. He hugs you to him, a hand on your leg, his other arm across your back. He purrs as he holds you close, leaning back as the tension seeps from him.

“Just like this, sug, me and you,” he grits.

🧸

You escape Sy’s embrace for the excuse of making breakfast. The task helps you keep your fears at bay though his presence looms just on the other side of the wall. Your helplessness is starting to feel like acceptance as the last of your denial dissipates. This is real. You are trapped.

You plate up a heaping plate of bacon and eggs. You scrape butter onto toast and bring it out to the table. You teethe your lip as you stand in the archway of the front room.

“Food’s ready, Sy,” you squeak.

He sits up and groans as he stretches. He stands, towering over you as he looks even broader without his shirt. Somehow you keep forgetting how big he really is.

He crosses the room and you scurry back to the kitchen. You hear him pull the chair out as you grab your leftover french toast and bring it out. You’re not very hungry, in fact you feel sick to your stomach. Still, you know you have to play along.

That sound, the one of his head hitting the plaster, keeps replaying in your head. You hate it. As much as he scares you, as much as he’s a stranger, you don’t want to be the reason he’s hurt. You stare at your plate glumly as you cut into the cold eggy bread.

“Thank you, sweetie,” he undercuts your gloom with his bright tone, “sure smells good.”

You glance up, poking at the toast with your fork, “sorry, all I had was turkey bacon.”

“S’all good,” he tears a strip in half and takes a bite.

You muster a smile and drop your gaze back to your food. You take a bite of the stale, syrupy bread. You chew mechanically, bite by bite, and choke it all down. You think of how he might react if you let the food go to waste. He paid for it after all. At least the berries add a bit of flavour.

“You should make a video today,” he says abruptly.

Your eyes flick up and you blink, “oh, uh, maybe not today--”

“Your followers will be wanting to check in, won’t they? You can’t leave them hanging.”

“Um, well, I’ll think about it later---”

“You know, sweetie, like I said, you got me through some tough days. You’re all I had out there. Who knows, maybe there’s others who feel the same, you know?” He scoops up eggs on his fork and hovers them over the plate, “and you’re special. The world needs more of you.”

“Thanks, er, I’m just... tired is all.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t snuck out to the couch, huh?” He challenges.

You’re surprised by the admonishment. You wince and give a shrug, “yeah, I guess--”

“I could help ya with the video. We could do something fun. Maybe... we could go for a walk with Aika. She loves the wilderness. Specially when there aren’t bombs hidin’.”

You look down guiltily. You don’t blame him for wanting out of his old life. For being so excited to be away from the chaos. And you feel worse because you’ve taken all you have for granted. Each time he talks, he reminds you of your ignorance.

“I guess... that sounds nice,” you sniff.

“Sounds perfect to me,” he swallows his mouthful, “walking around with my girls, showing ‘em off.” He grins, “couldn’t ask for anything more.”

274 notes · View notes

booobooothefool · 24 days

Text

A deranged man 👨🏼 the cups made me slip a giggle ngl imagining the man picking those out and kicking his feet around with how excited he was

The Quiet Ones 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: I slept for like ten hours and it was fucking wild.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You watch the long needle slide out from under your skin. You don’t feel it much. That man, Lloyd, loops the tube around the IV bag stand. You sit in the bed still, disoriented and dull. You can feel the tension buzzing off of him, as if he’s holding himself back. That scares you more than anything he’s done.

Before you can say or do anything, your stomach growls. The tumble is painful as your insides squeeze violently. He looks at you and takes your hand, tugging you towards the edge as he snickers.

“Hungry, jellybean?” He teases, “come on. I’ll make you a nice omelet.” He pulls until you shimmy across the bed. You turn your legs out and can’t help but use his strength to stand. He’s patient as he easily hauls you up. “You okay, babykins? I could carry you. Like before.”

“N-no,” you try to wiggle your hand free but his grip is unbreakable. He squeezes and you quit your resistance.

“You might be a bit groggy, that’s normal. The smoke, the meds--”

“Meds?”

“Well, I slipped a bit extra in the bag,” he shrugs as he glances over at the IV, “just so you could sleep.”

You look at him, your horror burning from your eyes. He grins proudly and swings your arm, turning to lead you to the door. You take short steps, muscles stiff and achy, shoulders wracked from sleeping on your back. You look down at yourself and shudder; at least you’re still wearing your own clothes.

“I’ve been doing cooking classes. I can do a florentine that will blow your tits off,” he boasts as he angles you through the door.

The hall is airy and echoey. The house must be huge. You get that sense easily. You don’t need to go around and count the rooms. He takes you down the long hallway and you stop at the top of a set of stairs. They bend in the middle but more corning, there’s a large space between each. They’re polished to a shine and look slippery as the morning reflects off of them.

“Just a step at a time,” he goads as you latch onto the railing.

You put a foot down and grip both him and the railing. Another tide of wooziness comes over you. It could be what he gave you or your days of restriction, but it’s too much. The world is too much.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos as you take a second step down.

This is strange. It reminds you of a movie you watched as a kid with a maze and twisting and turning walkways and a taunting villain. You’ve awoken in his trap and you see no escape in sight.

You slip on the third and let out a squeak as you feel yourself falling. He’s quick to catch you, scooping you up easily even in the narrow space. He lifts you and continues down swiftly, bringing you onto flat ground. You murmur and rub your head as you feel his heartbeat against your arm.

You feel a tickle in your hair and hear him take a deep breath. Is he smelling you? You repress a shiver at the thought as your eyes struggle to focus on the shapes all around you.

He carries you into another room, a kitchen, as spacious and sleek as any other part of the strange house. A white marble counter lines two walls and wraps around into full C, marking off the cooking space. On the other side, there’s glass table in an abstract, asymmetric shape with metal frame chairs around it. The whole place is out of one of those design magazines. All impractical at the expense of aesthetic.

He sits you in one of the chairs, it’s just a rigid as you expect. He stays bent, holding you by the shoulders until your hold yourself up. He drags his hands down your arms as he reluctantly pulls away. You flutter your lashes and rub your eye sockets, trying to block out your reality.

“My sleepy bean,” he beams and plants a kiss on the top of your head. “So how about it? Eggs florentine? Or are you in the mood for something a bit sweeter? I’ve perfected my crepes.”

You grumble and drop your hands slowly, crossing your arms as a chill rolls through you. You feel it pricking in your chest and across your skin. You’re not wearing a bra and your tee shirt is thin. You keep your arms locked.

You listen to him moving around. You don’t know what to do. You’re too weak to do anything. Even if you could get on the other side of the walls, you have no idea where you are. Where help could be.

You rock as your fear bubbles up. Why is he doing this? Why does he think you want him? Why you? Of all people. You mind your business, you keep your head down, eyes to yourself... you don’t deserve this.

You glance over at him as he starts to hum. Your lip quivers as you watch his shoulders blades stretch the fabric of his shirt. He’s a bit ridiculous in a full set of satin pajamas, the dark black speckled with a subtle grey leopard print. He’s too much.

You turn your head straight and let it hang. You resign yourself to helplessness. You have to be logical about this. You can’t spark his suspicion to soon. You have to wait for a window and then... figure that out, you guess. You don’t like uncertainty. You have a routine and you keep to it. That’s what keeps you safe. Or so you thought.

“...wise men say, only fools rush in...” he sings softly and you wince. The lyrics of the Elvis ballad make your skin crawl. He’s actually deranged. You don’t know him, you're strangers.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know tree nuts are a no go,” he chimes as he whisks, turning to you with a broad smile.

You blink at him. How does he know that?

“Don’t think you’ll be needing any but I also got penicillin on the no go list and the latex thing... there’s alternatives,” he chuckles and you furrow your brow. “How’s that ticker doing? You been taking lots of iron?”

Your body hollows out. How much does he know about you? How? You can guess he’s snooped around your medical records. Obviously, he’s a man with criminalistic leanings. Is this even his house? Has he taken you to a fortress he commandeered by force? Is there some terrified family bound in the basement? Is there a basement?

He continues to futz around the kitchen as you curl your shoulders down and chew on your lips. Speaking of your heart, it’s beating again, racing, almost painfully. You’re a mouse trapped in the corner by the feline with his bristly whiskers.

Your eyes wander over to the large windows and you stare out at the curated landscape. The property is beautiful and lush. You imagine a whole team maintains the perfectly trimmed hedges and colourful blooms. The stone mosaic pathway and the leafy archway over a bench. It’s like a dream, more so, a twisted nightmare painted in hues of fantasy.

A plate clinks down before you and a sweet aroma brings you back inside. You face forward as Lloyd steps back on his heel, watching you with anticipation. You look at him then the plate. He pulls out a chair and plops himself down, planting his elbow as he cups his chin and watches.

“Let me know what you think,” he insists.

You take a breath and unlock your arms. Slowly, you drag them apart and take the thick butter knife and long fork. The cutlery feels too big for your small hands. You lean forward as the drizzle of dark syrup across the rolled crepe lures you in. Your stomach roars noisily and he giggles.

“Aw, you must be starving,” he muses, “please eat, baby, I don’t want you to ever go hungry again.”

You exhale through a ripple of disgust. You cut into the thin crepe and into the filling. Slice off the end of the roll and scoop it up with the filling. You carefully open your mouth around the fork and take a bite. Your eyes flit up to meet Lloyd’s as his gaze sticks on you. There are flames in his blue irises.

You pull your mouth off the fork in embarrassment as he hums. He’s a weird, weird man. All of this is weird. Surreal.

You look down at the butter knife and contemplate the gold cutlery. It’s heavy, it would hurt if you used the handle to give him a conk, but the blade is too dull to do much. It can slice through a crepe but wouldn’t do much on meat and bone. You don’t think you could do it, either. The thought of hurting others is just unnatural.

“Is it good? Tried my own combination,” he explains happily, “dark chocolate syrup, not too much sugar, some softened cream cheese in the middle with black cherry jam.”

You swallow and look around for something to wipe your lips. Short of a napkin, you lick your lip and clamp them together. He shifts in his chair, an act that makes you feel uncomfortable.

“Good,” you croak.

“Oh, wait,” he stands suddenly, “your coffee. Oopsie.”

He struts away and your stomach mulches the single bite greedily. As much as you want to be stubborn, you’re so hungry. And it’s delicious. It’s better than your usual flavourless fare. You could gobble it all down in a second but you won’t. You carefully cut out another bite as he returns with a tall mug.

He puts the cup down by your plate. You gulp down a forkful and set down the cutlery. You consider the mug before you take it, the white porcelain marked with the golden outline of a rose above the letter ‘Mrs.’. He has another in his hands, black but with a bowtie above ‘Mr.’. What the hell?

“Colombian dark roast. A little less caffeine so your heart won’t mind so much,” he says.

You nod and take the cup. The thought of coffee is enough to override your agitation. You take a sip and hold back a sigh. It’s good. You hate all of this but it’s all so good. You put the cup back and return your attention to the crepes. You pause and glance up at him. He doesn’t have a plate, just his cup.

“Oh, jellybean, you’re so sweet,” he smirks, “I gotta keep my protein up. I’ll have some eggs and a shake soon. Right now, you just worry about you.”

You dip your chin down and focus on eating. Small bites. You don’t want to seem too greedy. You don’t want him to see how much you need this. Does he know everything? Of course, he was watching but did he know the days you spent feeling as if your stomach was eating itself?

He pushes his hair back, trying to tidy the long strands as he watches you, “we’ll get washed up after breakfast. Then you can get settled in and relax. I’ll take care of everything else, alright? You just need to get all dolled up when the time comes,” he explains as he drags his fingertip around the tabletop, “not that you need to do very much.”

You just chew. What can you say or do? This man is straight up crazy. Not only are you his prisoner, he’s been stalking you. It doesn’t matter when it started, look where it’s ended. No, this can’t be the end.

“What’s...” you speak before you can think. You shake your head and smother your question with another bite.

“What? Go on, sugar lips, ask me anything? You wanna know my favourite colour? My favourite song?” His cheeks tint pink as he plays with a button on his pajamas.

You clear your throat and put down the fork and knife, “what’s going on... later?”

He tilts his head curiously.

“The... dress and... doll up?” You repeat his words flatly.

“That’s a surprise,” he trills as if it should be obvious. “Don’t wanna spoil it, do we?”

“I guess,” you sit back and fold your hands in your lap.

“You don’t gotta think about anything, sweet cheeks. You leave the thinking to me. I’m gonna take care of you,” he avows as his hand stretches across the front of his satin shirt. “You just gotta be you.”

You feel his gaze bearing down on you. You peek up to find his eyes slipping down and you feel them centre on your tee shirt, your nipples poking against the cotton. You hunch your shoulders and cross your arms again.

“How’s the coffee, jelly bean? You like it?” He tears his attention from your chest.

“Good, thank you,” you murmur.

“Ugh, I love hearing your voice,” he puts his coffee down and reaches between his legs. You blanch as he drags his chair closer as he lifts himself. He puts his hand on your knee, stroking with his thumb, “will you call me ‘honey’?”

You stare at him. Your cheek draw tight and your lips flatten. You want to shake off his touch and scream but that foggy glaze in his eyes deters you. This man is wild.

“Okay, er,” you gulp tightly and cough, “honey.”

He hums into a sigh and his hand slips higher on your leg before trail back down, “oh,” he shakes his shoulders, “that tingles. Do it again.”

You fight not to let your true emotion blaze through. You hug yourself tighter and bite down before you can muster the word, “honey.”

“Oh, baby, that’s nice,” he winks and sits back, eyes grazing up and down your body, “you cold? You’re all twisted up like a pretzel.”

You nod. It's an excuse you’ll gladly take.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner, jellybean?” He stands suddenly and you notice the way he tugs on the waistband of his pants. You turn your head, blurring your vision so everything around you is vague.

He rushes off and you wait. You don’t know what else to do. You’re still too weak to make a move. Whatever he gave you is potent. Or maybe, you’re just too scared to do more than shrink and surrender.

He returns with a fluffy purple robe in his hands. He comes around the back of your chair and you lean forward to let him drape it around you. He curls his hands over your shoulders and bends over you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“You need more coffee, baby cakes?” He asks as he kneads your shoulders.

“Still working on it,” you pull away from him and grab the cup, “thank you...” you let the words dangle in the silence, tension piquing, “honey.”

He sighs and draws away with a tickle up your neck, “mmm, isn’t this wonderful?”

309 notes · View notes

booobooothefool · 25 days

Text

Mother is also in on this 😌 home girl really in for it frfr

Thank you for blessing us with this fine art 🙂‍↕️

Hidden Treasure 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: your quiet life is interrupted by a tempestuous man. (reader is Blair from Follow You Anywhere)

Characters: Thor

Note: I just did it, okay?

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You lay out the hand-sewn coin purses along the left side of the table, completing the array of your hand-made and repurposed goods. It’s a good day to sell, sunny but not too hot, the early days of spring when people are eager to get out. At least it should be. Despite your selection, you’re not the most personable vendor along the square.

The last detail is the hand-painted wood sign. You did it yourself; an antique frame you added a gold hue to and filled with a thin sheet of board. It isn’t much but it tells people what they’re looking at; handmade and renewed goods.

You fold your hands and hover behind your table. You’re a one-person operation. It’s your own table, your own money, your own everything. It brings in enough for you to live. Just you and your cluttered apartment.

The coin purses and the sleepers you sew by hand are the more popular sellers. Anything for children goes first, you notice. Everyone seems to be having them. The older crowd radiate towards the old candlesticks you polished to a shine or the glass-shaded lamps you tediously re-wired. Most try to haggle but your prices are fair enough.

You peer around at the produce stands, the soap and candle makers, and the crocheted stuffies of your fellow sellers. You do a bit of window shopping but never follow through on your wandering eyes. You don’t need to waste the money on the pretty new things, you have lots of lovely old things.

The traffic picks up and you busy yourself with the browsers. A woman with a stroller buys several of the infant dresses and headband, a group of older ladies peruse the aged hardcovers and pick out a few, while a couple comments on the brass-based lamp with the dangling chain. You do your best to smile through the transactions.

The rises higher in the sky towards its apex. The steady flow keeps you busy, with some time in-between to work on fixing the binding of one of the old editions. You like to keep yourself distracted, thinking can be dangerous. With how much time you spend alone, it’s hard to avoid.

As you lock up the cash box and tuck it back under the table, a shadow passes over, large than any other. For a moment, you think a cloud’s passing over the sun. You look up at the sky as a broad figure stands across from you.

You don’t know how you didn’t see the man’s approach. He’s huge. Tall and wide. He doesn’t seem the type to be interested in your selection. Still, he leans in to eye the embroidered coin purses and gives a rumbling hum that sounds like distant thunder.

He picks up one with primroses sewn into it. His thick thumb brushes the threaded design and his large hand makes the coin purse look even smaller. You tap your fingers on the table as his eyes flick up and meet yours.

“Hi, uh, how can I help you?” You whittle out of your tight throat. It’s not often a lone man finds interest in your things. You cater to a more femme audience.

“This is nice,” he remarks, “do you make these?”

“Uh, yes, I do,” you give a tight-lipped smile, “I just embroider old used purses.”

“Just? That’s splendid work,” he brings it closer to his face and looks down his nose at the little flowers and leaves, “my mother would love this... mother’s day is coming, eh?”

“Oh, um, yes, I suppose,” you agree. “It’s five dollars. Cash only.”

“Mm,” he traces his thumb over the metal clasp as he taps his back pocket with his other hand, “don’t think I’ve any on me. Could you hold this for me?” He offers the coin purse, “I’ll find the ATM.”

“Sure, I could do that.”

You take the coin purse, fingers brushing his rough skin, and you set it aside.

“Thank you,” he smiles broadly, blue eyes twinkling as lines creases around them and across his forehead.

He reluctantly trails away and you watch him go. His golden hair is longer than most, twisted into a low bun behind his hand as a few strands dangle freely around his face. He wears a denim jacket over dark red tee and grey jeans, along with a pair of scuffed brown boots. He stands out even in his casual attire.

You shrug off the encounter and turn to your next customers. More baby clothes. The women chat about a baby show and you point them to the newborn sizes, telling them about the fabrics you use for each. They buy a few bibs along with the sleepers and diaper covers.

You back up and sit in the folding chair, drinking deeply from your bottle of water. You don’t know if it’s the interactions or the sun making you dizzy. It’s close to noon. You always start to feel it around this time.

The hours surrounded by strange faces and buzzing voices are clustering in your head and chest. Only a little longer; the market only runs until two. If the world didn’t require money to survive, you might never leave your apartment. Yet your table is the only means you have to keep walls around you.

You sit a bit longer and get up again. You’re okay. You should’ve eaten before you left the apartment. How silly of you to forget the overnight oats you had put in the fridge just the night before. You do forget quite a few things.

The market thrums with the late morning rush and you brace yourself for the final stretch. If you can clear off half the table, you might not have to come back next weekend. You’d be all too content to stay in your own little world, the one beyond is too loud and too bright.

🕰️

You fold your table up and push the hook around the peg to keep it shut. You fold up the chair as well and lean both with your boxes. As the market clears out, you pull up your small two-door and load your wares into the back hatch.

You peer over at the other vendors and their vans and trucks. Crews of half a dozen or more pack away goods and chatter just as loud as the previous crowds. It’s an isolating moment. You don’t mind going unnoticed but sometimes you feel so small.

As you put a box in the back of the car, your keys slip off your finger. You bend and feel around the tire to retrieve them and sense a shadow above you. You clasp your hand around the keyring and stand-up suddenly, turning to face the figure behind you. There’s no one there.

You peer around but find nothing out of the ordinary. You return to your task and pause. You don’t remember putting that box away yet...

You shake your head. You’re just tired and forgetful. Your cardinal vices. Your mind wanders too much to rest, too much to keep order.

You put the last box away and close the hatch. You get in the driver’s seat and turn the engine. It putters softly but it runs well enough. The old car has gotten you through the years just fine. There was a time that tiny thing was your home.

You pull away down the lane parallel to the edge of the market square and pull out into traffic. You drive without seeing, led by habit as you stop at signs along the way, turning around corners mindlessly. You stop and wait to pull into your building’s lot and notice the large storm grey jeep behind you. It strikes you as peculiar; you enter from a back street to avoid the rush.

You steer into the lot and the jeep continues down the street past the building. You forget it as quickly as it rolls beyond the faded brick. You find your spot, parking pass dangling from the mirror, and shut off the engine. You linger and take a breath. You're hungry and tired.

You leave your things in the car and go upstairs. You slow as you pass your neighbour’s door. You saw her yesterday, she was in trouble about something. The police came as she hid from her boyfriend in your apartment. You didn’t even know she had one. You tried not to be nosy but she seemed real upset.

Your cheeks tinge as you stare at the numbers on her door. She’s the only person who’s ever been inside your apartment. You don’t welcome people in, not into your home or your life. You hadn’t meant to let her in but you were so tired and confused, you couldn’t stop her.

You cringe and continue down to your door with one last glance over your shoulder. You put the key in the slot and turn with a grind. You scurry inside and quickly lock the door, afraid she might once more emerge and follow you inside. Or that man, the big one with the beard.

You twist the latch back into place and put your keys in the tray on the cramped shelf. The apartment is dark, the windows shrouded in black fabric, and you flip on the overhead light to guide you down the hallway. The walls are made tighter as their lined with endless shelves and tables, all filled with your collection of curiosities.

You go to the fridge and take out the mason jar of steeped oats. You sit and eat the soft, pasty oats and the berries. You didn’t add enough cinnamon. It doesn’t matter, your stomach greedily mulches it. You put the kettle on and wait for it to steam.

As you pace around, you hear a loud rumble. An engine. You don’t think much of it but you go to the window to peek out around the dark fabric. A woman walks a large dog past a grey jeep parked along the curb. Is it the same one you saw before?

The question doesn’t pique your mind much. That’s the way of the world, you find. It’s a lot smaller than it seems, yet to you, it’s inexorably vast. It’s too fast, too unpredictable. You retreat as the kettle whistles.

Your apartment is small and warm and safe. The world can’t follow you back here. Not if you don’t let it in and you won’t be doing that again.

-🕰️

You decide, against your better instincts, to go to market. The weather is nice and it wouldn’t be so bad add a few extra bucks to your nest egg. You never know what might come up, or what you might find! Too many times you stumbled upon an antique you just couldn’t afford.

You go through your usual ritual. You set up the table and the chair, and arrange your things in the same way around the wooden sign. As you put your boxes to the side, you hear a rattle at the bottom of one. You look into the crate and notice the silver ring. How’d that get in there? You didn’t bring any jewelry.

You put down the box and reach inside. You take out the ring and turn it. You’ve never seen it before. There’s a strange stick symbol on the flat face. Maybe another language or a run of some type. You turn it in your hand and tuck it in your pocket. You’ll have to give a closer look at home.

It’s early and a few stragglers trickle in, but they all walk by your table without pause.

You sit and take out the jar of oats. You remembered today. You’d woken up with a hunger so deep, you almost ate before you left. You know better than to eat too early. Instead, you had your tea and got yourself moving.

You stir the blueberries in and eat slowly, trying to measure your bites so you don’t feel sick after. You watch the other vendors, some still setting up, and lazily swallow down the thick oatmeal. It feels like it might rain after all, there’s a touch of damp in the air.

You finish up and put the jar away. As you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, a woman’s voice trills and pricks your ears. Silver hair with a few wisps of gold peak out from her silk headscarf. The teal fabric matches the pattern of her blouse, tucking into a finely pressed skirt. She’s not alone, she has her arm hooked through another.

Her companion is younger than her. His golden hair is pulled half up at the crown of his head as he towers over her lithe frame. You squint, they might be related. As they approach, you get a whiff of deja vu.

“Yes, it was this one, mother,” the man’s voice is deep.

“How lovely, look at all these treasures,” she slips her arm free as she approaches, “hello, dear, is this all yours?”

“Mhmm, yes,” you stand up, “are you looking for something in particular?”

“I think we’re just browsing,” she smiles brightly, her lips painted a gentle shade of rose.

“A coin purse,” the man says, “with prim rose? Do you recall?”

You look at him. Faces aren’t easy for you but his voice strikes something in your mind, and his size. You haven’t seen a lot of men that big, only the one in your neighbour’s apartment. You think you remember holding something but the customer never came back.

“This one,” you point to the coin purse, set back in the row.

“Yes, that was me,” he chimes, “mother,” he pulls the primrose purse to the top. She takes it and he looks back to you, “I apologise that I didn’t return, there was an emergency and I had to be off.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug, folding your hands together.

The woman is looking at you. There’s something in her gaze that makes you squirm. Her eyes linger just a bit longer before she aims them at the purse, admiring the embroidery as she feels it beneath her thumb.

“Yes, I do like this one,” she says.

“I brought cash this time,” the man booms and reaches into his pocket, “five, I believe you said.”

“Yes,” you accept the bill from him, his skin rough as his fingertips touch yours, “thanks. Erm, did you need a bag?”

“For this? No,” she wiggles the purse playfully and reaches for the man, her son, with other hand. She caresses his knuckles as she faces him, “you were right. Very beautiful.”

He smiles broadly, proudly almost. It’s just a purse. You hide your discomfort as you grip your arm at your elbow.

“Thank you,” the woman chirps back at you, sending another grin in your direction, “you might see us again.”

She hooks her arm once more through her son’s and leads him to the next booth. You peer after them as her attention clings to the purse as she continues to feel it between her fingers. She leans into his arm as she speaks to him quietly. They seem close, it’s sweet. Your own mother had never been so affectionate.

You look away before the scene can pluck in your chest. It doesn’t matter. You’re grown up now. That’s all behind you.

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booobooothefool · 27 days

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Blair is a fake identity babes...I can feel it...another series in the making...

Follow You Anywhere 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: dululand is my native country.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You lay on your side. Tense and painfully awake. Aika’s sleeping form heaps in a shadow on the floor as you feel the body behind you breathing. Hot gusts, in, out, against the nape of your neck. A light dusting that feels like a furnace’s blast.

You keep your back to Sy as you stare at the door. It’s been at least an hour since you laid down. He inched closer and closer, but gave up as you found yourself teetering on the edge.

A snort makes you wince. You brace the side of the mattress as your eyes round. The rocky rumble continues, mellow to long calm exhales. He’s snoring. He’s asleep.

You don’t move immediately. You wait it out until the noise is raucous. Even if you had any temptation to stay, you couldn't sleep through his thunderous blare. You hold your breath and slowly sit up, watching the slumbering canine on the floor.

Aika raises her head as you rise but doesn’t move further. You slip to the edge of the bed and ease down until your feet touch the rug. You stand and she puts her head down, her collar jingling noisily. You swivel to look over your shoulder. Sy sleeps with his hand on the empty space of the bed, his other arm curled under his head.

You back away, careful to tiptoe around Aika. As you get to the door, she remains as she is and so does her owner. You slip into the front room and let out your breath. You turn to face the darkness. You’re not going far. Maybe the dog senses that.

You pull a pillow against the arm of the couch and nestle atop the cushions. You can’t close your eyes. You’re too anxious. You just lay there staring at the shadows of your apartment.

Your eyelids droop little by little. Fatigue mutes your fear and your body slackens atop the couch. The noise of occasional traffic and the street drift in and lull you. You let your mind go black and descend into a shallow sleep.

You give a start as you feel yourself falling. Your head snaps up and your eyes flutter open as you squeak. You’re not falling, you’re being lifted. You blink as you look up at the silhouette of Sy’s thick beard and his body heat seeps into you.

“Huh,” you let out the confused hiccup as you squirm against him.

“What’re ya doin’ out here, sweetie?” He growls as he carries you back into the bedroom.

“I... couldn’t sleep.”

He grumbles, the only acknowledgement of your excuse. He takes you to the bed, lowering you with him as he settles on the mattress again. Aika’s on her side, sleeping and unaware. He puts you on your side and pushes his body flush to yours as he wraps his arm around your middle. He holds you close, nuzzling your crown as he sighs.

“Mmm, isn’t that better?” He purrs, “I never been so calm as I am with you, sug.”

You gulp and make yourself nod. His words come off more like a threat a suggestion that he isn’t always this calm. You've seen him toe that line, how he’s always just barely restrained. How long can that last?

“You’re so warm and cozy,” he rocks you slightly, “night, night, sweetie. Get some sleep.”

You utter a ‘good night’ in return if only to assure him of your compliance. You’re brief respite only underlines his incessant clinginess. He always has to be near, always has to know what you’re up to. You suspect that isn’t new to him, not that it matters how long he’s been watching. Days, weeks, or months, it can’t undo the present.

You close your eyes as they sting. You won’t fall back asleep, not in his arms. You’ll just lay there and wait for the few inches of freedom you get with the sunrise. It’s all you can do.

🧸

As the morning shines in, your head pounds and your body aches. You’ve been locked in Sy’s arms all night, still as you can be. You don’t want to risk waking him again. When he’s asleep, you don’t need to worry about what he might do.

Aika rouses first. She licks her paw until she’s bored then starts a restless tip tapping by the door. You figure she needs to go out but you don’t move. The click of her pclws finally disturbs the snoring behind your ear.

“Aika, give me a minute,” Sy rolls away and yawns. “Swear that dog is better than any alarm clock.”

He sits up, hunching over as he rubs his eyes. You glance at him over your shoulder as he jostles the bed. He gets up and searches out a tee shirt, pulling it on above his dark gym shorts. He tidies the stray shanks jutting out from his bear and smiles as he meets your gaze. You quickly look away.

“I’ll take her around real quick. Why don’t you get some coffee going?” He suggests.

You fall onto your back and push yourself up. You fold your arms as you make yourself look at him. You feel fractured. You’re about to break.

“Sure,” you answer with a smile.

“Good girl,” he winks and snaps his fingers at Aika.

The dog prances out ahead of him and you watch him follow. You don’t stand until you hear the front door. You rush out and find the apartment empty, heart racing as your eyes scour the place. Your keys have gone with him. The fleeting idea of locking him out fizzles away.

You pause and search for your phone. You don’t know where it went. He must’ve taken it. You return to the bedroom and grab a hoodie out of your dress. You pull it on over your pajamas and scurry back to the front door. You step into your slip-ons and slowly turn the door handle.

You inch the door inward and peek into the hall. You can’t do this anymore. You won’t play along. You should’ve done this yesterday. You chalk it up to shock. You were too surprised to think clearly but this is your chance.

You creep out into the hall and down to the door diagonal from your own. You knock, realising it might be a bit too early. You wait, swaying as you check over your shoulders. If he comes back and catches you...

You knock again as no answer comes. You try not to let the panic down you as it swells higher and higher. Finally, Blair answers the door and you look at her frantically.

“Please let me in,” you plead.

“Um, is everything okay?” She asks.

You don’t know her very well. You spoke a few times in the laundry room and exchanged tight-lipped smiles in the hallway. She looks as scared as you feel.

“Please,” you peer down the hall again, “there’s no time.”

“Alright, uh...” she backs up, “come in. Sorry, I--” she pauses to stifle a yawn, “had a late night.”

You enter her apartment and wring your hands. She closes the door and you exhale. You face her and bounce on your toe nervously.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s early, but... can I borrow your phone?” You ask.

“Sure, but what’s going on? Are you alright?”

You consider her question. You frown, “I don’t know.”

Her eyes gleam with worry and she nods. She shuffles past you and disappears into the next room. You go back to the door and twist the lock. You peer out the peep hole but can’t quite see your own door.

“Here,” Blair comes back and you spin around.

“Thanks, uh... I... just need to make a call,” you reach for the phone and look down at the screen. It's an old flip phone.

You don’t know if they’ll listen but you have to try. At least then you can say you did. You dial and put the phone to your ear.

“Emergency services, what’s your emergency?” The operator greets flatly.

“Hi, uh...” you glance up at Blair, “there’s an intruder in my apartment.”

He jaw drops and you give an awkward expression.

“Ma’am, are you in the apartment?” The voice on the other end asks.

“No, um, no, I’m at my neighbour’s but this man... he uh, he’s been following me and now he’s in my apartment. He’s been there all night and I asked him to leave but he won’t.”

“Alright, ma’am, I understand, I’ll dispatch and officer to your location. Please do not return to your apartment.”

You give your address at their request and hang up. You hand Blair her phone back and she takes it with a tremble. She clutches it to her chest.

“There’s someone in your apartment?” She asks, her voice brittle.

You nod and look around. Her place sure is cluttered. It smells like cinnamon and old paper. Books on books, shelves crammed with figurines, and boxes in stacks. It’s not dirty, just really full.

“Yeah, well, he’s coming back,” you say as you chew your thumb and turn back to the door. Once more you go to look through the peep hole.

You stay there, watching, waiting. You see Aika first. She’s off leash. She sits outside the door as Sy catches up and lets himself in. The door shuts behind him and you hold your breath. A few minutes past, what feels like years, and the door opens again.

He hollers your name and his voice shakes you through the door. You clap your hand over your mouth and keep your eye through the lens. He paces towards you then back the other way. He continues to call your name. He marches back into the apartment and slams the door behind him.

“Who is he?” Blair startles you as she stands shoulder to shoulder with you.

You back up and look at her, “I don’t know.”

“How... how does he know your name?”

You shake your head and whisper, “he found me. Online. I don’t know what to do. He just... won’t leave me alone and I can’t get him to leave.”

Her mouth opens, “oh? Wow that’s... scary.”

You nod vehemently. It’s terrifying.

“I never... I never had a man do that. Follow me... they don’t really talk to me,” she says. “I’m happy they don’t.”

Your heart knots and you move away from the door, “it’s okay if I stay until the police show up? They told me to.”

“Uh, sure, if you don’t mind...” she trails off and looks around at all her things.

“No, no, it’s okay. Thank you.”

“Do you want some green tea? My head hurts.”

🧸

The pounding on the door alerts you to the cops just outside, but they’re not at Blair’s door. They’re knocking at your apartment. You go to look through the hole as your neighbour nurses her second cup of tea. You watch one cop’s shoulder, the only part of them you can see.

The door opens but you can't see much.

“Hello, sir, we got a phone call,” one officer declares, “do you live here?”

“Yes,” Sy answers without hesitation, “I just moved in with my girlfriend.”

“Right,” the other officer says, “and where is she?”

Sy huffs, “I was just about to call. I took the dog out and when I came back, she was gone. I’m hoping she just went for some coffee but she left her phone.”

“Mmm,” one of the cops hums. “You serve?”

“How’d you know?”

“Old man’s a vet,” the other man says, “can spot them a mile away. How long ya been back?”

“A month,” Sy answers, “yeah, came home to my sweetheart and now... I’m terrified. What if something happened? Why didn’t I lock the door?”

You hear a slap and silence, “sir, please.”

“Sorry, I just, I'm so stupid.”

One of the officers sighs and there’s another deep heave. A uniformed man moves into your view and knocks on the door, shifting it in the frame. You back up and collide with something. Blair stands right behind you, silent. You look back at her as her brow furrows between concern and confusion.

“PD! Hello, we got a call from this location. Open up.”

Blair gives a hopeless grimace, “we’re gonna get in trouble.”

You cringe. “I’m sorry.”

You go to the door and unlock it. You put your head down sheepishly and open it, “hello?”

“Hello ma’am, are you the one who called?”

You peek back at Blair again. You can’t drag her into this.

“Yeah, officer, it was me,” you face him and push your shoulders back, “that man... that man doesn’t live with me. He came into my apartment and he refuses to leave. I don’t even know him--”

“Officer, that’s a lie. You can come in and check, all my stuff is here. My dog,” Sy drawls.

“Sir,” the other officer quiets him down.

The one before you crosses his arm and returns his attention to you, “isn’t nice lying on a man, especially a soldier. Whatever you’re mad about, doesn’t give you the right to call us down here. That’s obstruction.”

“I’m not lying,” you pout. “Please, sir--”

“So if I go in that apartment and look around, I won’t find his stuff in there, hm? Just yours?”

You stagger as if you’ve been struck. Is this part of his plan? Is that why he was so eager to get his stuff inside?

“He brought it with him but I swear, I never saw him before yesterday--”

“So this man, you wrote to him while he was over in the shit and now he’s back you’re playing victim? Is that right?” The officer growls, “take advantage of a man protecting his country, get some attention, and now you’re tryna throw him out? I should book you right now.”

“Officer,” Sy steps forward, “please, don’t do that. She’s just... she’s upset, you know? I promised her some things and I wasn’t entirely truthful.”

“That doesn’t give her the right,” the second officer grits.

“I know, I know, but I can sort this out. You don’t need to scare her anymore,” Sy runs his hand over his close-shaved head, “she’s my woman, I can’t let you do that.”

The officer in front of you scoffs, “good man,” he sneers in your direction, “get your head on straight and don’t be calling for your little tiffs again.”

You stand there, gutless. That was your last resort. Really, your only. You look back at Blair one last time before you go out into the hall. You turn back and meet Sy’s gaze as you walk towards him, the officers glaring at you. You don’t care about them so much as you’re scared of what he’ll do when they leave.

**I like Blair haha. I kinda made myself want to explore that character more so let me know if you’d like to see her as a reader character and I might pair her up with her own crazy guy.**

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booobooothefool · 27 days

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For real😭

Lloyd: smokebombs and abducts a woman in the night

Yall:

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booobooothefool · 28 days

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Tempted to not finish and just leave riz. Like that

Sklonda I love u

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booobooothefool · 29 days

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Too Sweet by Hozier x Riz Gukgak

gotta click into it for higher resolution but anybody else listening to Hozier’s new EP??

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booobooothefool · 1 month

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Cheddar you are not some common bitch, please don’t let me down baby boy 🙏

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booobooothefool · 1 year

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I donated blood for the snoopy shirt and now I’m feeling light headed 🥸 but I gotta drive to school and take an important test and listen to another lecture because finals are next week for me 🫡

#hate school #exhausted #snopsnop shirt 4lifers

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booobooothefool · 1 year

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Me trying to finish the Dark!Thor fic that's been sitting in my drafts since fall break of 2021, back when I was still living in the godforsaken dorms of a predominately white college in a conservative town that I inevitably dropped out of because of the discrimination and isolation I went through ✋😮‍💨

#it be like dat #dropout gang

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booobooothefool · 1 year

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He spent so much time on them and for me he got lazy

Oh my sweet holy angels...this was something I started after Indigenous day last year (2021) but never got back around to finishing it. I've been having really bad writers block and haven't been able to finish writing the Dark!Thor fic (that I also started back in 2021) yet, but it's like 2/3rds of the way done...a lot has changed since I last posted a fic...for example I recently decided to take a break from school and dropped out of this fall term...I've also been working overtime so yeah...finally had a day off today and I spent it finishing this piece of junk... anyways, hope ya'll enjoy this trash dumped from my overworking brain (๑~๑) I also refuse to proof read...and I will die on this messy anti-beta reading hill (because my eyes hurt and I am too lazy to bother) this is also 8,798 f*cking words..so yeah

-Growing up, you were all alone until you met Steve and you two bonded over being outcasts, but after the serum, you're left all alone again...or are you?

*18+!!!*

WARNING: horrible grammar, NOT edited, bad English (please be nice I know my English is bad, it’s not my first language 🥺) mentioning of unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you get silly), mean and dark Steve, angsty, fat-shaming, ED, pregnancy, noncon, breath play, choking...honestly read at your own risk because I am a warning all on my own

...

You had the biggest crush on Steve Rogers, you fell for him the day you met him. The scrawny little boy who stood up for you when a group of kids cornered you and berated you for your weight, acne, and stubby stature. You two would get made fun of, pointed and laughed at whenever you two went out together, so instead you both would meet privately, getting away from your harsh reality to somewhere no one could disrupt you two, your shared safe space. You two began to date secretly, no one knew about you two, not even Bucky knew. When Steve would get set up with another pretty girl that was friends with Bucky's latest flame, you couldn't help but to worry if he'd lose interest in you. Steve would always reassure you that he'd never fancy such shallow women, that he only had eyes for you.

When Steve first told you that he was accepted and would be leaving soon to join the army, you fought every fiber in your body to not break down and beg him to stay, you understood that this was Steve's dream. That was the night you lost your virginity to Steve, holding him close before he would leave you for war. After Steve left you cried as you held onto the shirt he left behind for you, allowing yourself to let go off all the emotions you refused to show to within his presence.

Steve would come and visit whenever he could, whenever he came back, you two would spend most of your time together in bed, wrapped up in the sheets with every inch of your bare bodies touching. After Steve wrote and explained to you that he had received the serum you did your best to not let your fears get the better of you, this was good for Steve, he was healthier, happier, and could now achieve all his dreams with less roadblocks in his way. Steve stopped visiting just before receiving the serum, all you had left of him were his letters, but when those became more and more scarce you had to remind yourself that Steve had more responsibility now that he was the face of America, THE Captain America.

Your parents had sent you to buy things from town for dinner, as you were browsing the store shelves your eye caught a familiar blond man. He must’ve felt you watching him, Steve looked up and it was as if he was a child caught stealing candy. “Doll!” He quickly recovered and suddenly you were engulfed in muscular arms, “Y/n, what are you doing here? I was planning to surprise you.” You couldn’t reply and only stared at Steve with wide eyes, you hadn’t seen him with the serum and felt overwhelmed by his tall and muscular frame, you awkwardly returned his sudden hug.

"What happened to you Stevie? Why are you so..." you paused, your tongue stuck on what words to use that wouldn't be impolite and rude.

"Big? Healthy? Strong? Well it's thanks to the serum doll." Steve smiled down at your with his breath taking boyish smile, the same one that always made you swoon. "I've got something I must tend to, can you meet me at the Wellington Hotel? I am in room 214, be there by 10 sharp." Too stunned to realized what was happening you simply nodded your head as Steve roughly pulled away and left you standing in the aisle with all your questions and words floating in the unspoken air around you. After standing in the aisle like an odd buffoon, you managed to collect yourself and process what had just really happened. As you finished getting what you were instructed to and on your way home, you couldn't help but to wonder why Steve was staying in a hotel and not in his apartment that you helped upkeep for him in his leave, he still paid the rent regularly, you would know because you had just been there not too long ago to dust and care for his things so that they wouldn't ware away with time.

Your eldest brother's fiancé Jenny had asked for your help at the sewing mill, but instead of going you decided to use it as a cover to go meet Steve. You'd already talked to your parents and Jenny about working tonight so they wouldn't question where you were, and with the war becoming so intense they also wouldn't question you about when you'd return. Many people often found themselves working day and night in order to try and do their part for the country. Your father and brothers worked to scrap metal for the war, your mother worked to feed the family on rations, and you worked at the local sewing mill.

You did your best to be discreet in order to not draw any attention when you got to the hotel, it was indecent for an unmarried young woman to be meeting a man in a hotel like this. You carefully knocked on the door of room 214 and twiddled with your fingers nervously, you yelped when the door suddenly opened and you were yanked into the dark the room. "Wha-" Before you could finish speaking, you were silenced by Steve's hand covering your mouth.

"No one saw you coming here did they? You didn't tell anyone you were coming to see me did you?" You pulled Steve's hand away from your mouth and huffed a few breaths of air before replying, "No, it would be indecent, I made sure to be careful." Steve seemed to relaxed and sighed in relief, "Good, I don't want to risk anyone knowing." You wanted to question Steve as to what he meant and why the lights were off in the dark room but before you could ask him he was already pulling at your clothes and kissing your jaw, your mind clouded as you melted like goo in his arms.

You gasped as Steve lifted you and wrapped your legs around his waist, something you two had never done before due to your size differences. He walked you over to the bed and threw you onto it, he open the front of your dress and pushed down your bra as he slid down your body while his mouth bit and sucked its way down from your jaw to your breasts. The room filled with the sounds of your panting and moans of needing more, but Steve didn't seem to make a sound. When you reached up to hold Steve close, he roughly pulled away from your touch and grabbed your wrists, holding them down with one hand as he used his other to bunch up your dress around your hips and ripped your underwear off to place himself at your entrance. You could feel that he still had all his clothes on and had simply taken his cock out of his pants. Without warning Steve shoved himself inside of you, when you opened your mouth to scream from the pain of not being prepared properly Steve slammed his free hand over you mouth, covering your nose as well. As he barbarically pumped in and out of you, he finally began to moan, and instead of your name coming from his lips, Steve repeated another woman's name.

Peggy.

Your tears wouldn't stop as you felt yourself losing consciousness from the lack of air and pain of Steve's brutal thrusts. As you tried to free your hands and shook your head violently side to side in hopes of removing his hand from blocking your airways, you felt yourself becoming more and more tired until everything eventually faded and you lost consciousness.

It was still dark out when you woke up, you found yourself laying sprawled out on the floor in the cold with nothing covering you. Carefully gathering yourself and doing your best to stand on your aching legs as your neither regions screamed in pain, you looked around for Steve and saw him sleeping peacefully on the bed. When you couldn't stand anymore due to the painful aftermath of what Steve did to you, you decided to settle on the edge of the bed, but as soon as you sat Steve suddenly kicked you off onto the floor.

"Get out, people will be waking up soon." You sat stunned, unable to move as you replayed his words in your head over and over again. "Did you not hear me?" Steve got up from the bed and roughly grabbed your arm and dragged you towards the door, "Fix your rags and get out."

"Steve..."You felt as though the air was suddenly as hard as the bricks that made up the walls around you.

"Y/n, I gave you what you wanted, now get out. I will not be repeating myself." Steve's nose flared in anger as he glared into your soul.

"I...I thought you loved me?" Your tears began to fall again, your mind scrambled, unable to understand what was happening.

"Y/n, look at yourself and then look at me. I am every woman and man's dream, why would I be with someone like you? You are fat, your face is covered in acne scars and you are far too short for me. My status is too high to be associated with someone like you. Before the serum I was just as much a loser as you, but now I am the image of perfection, I cannot be with someone who is the definition of 'other'. After I received the serum I came to the realization that we couldn't be together anymore, I've also met someone else...last night was just me making sure that I truly loved her, and it can also be seen as a goodbye to you. I used to feel guilty, but being with you last night made me realize that your body does nothing but disgust me now that I've been with the true love of my life. Now get out before people start waking up, or else I will call for security and tell them that you are a crazy woman who came in here in hopes of harassing Captain America." Steve didn't spare you another look as he opened the door and gestured for your to leave. You quietly gathered yourself and limped out of the room as he shut the door behind you before you could turn around to say goodbye to him.

You limped and made it home before the sun finished rising, you decided to shower and scrubbed yourself clean of evidence from the previous night, hoping to scrub away the pain of Steve's brutal assault and his words with the crusted cum on your legs and breasts. After you finished cleaning off, you decided to sleep in hopes of sleeping away the pain and to avoid seeing your parents in your current mental state. No one disturbed your sleep, thinking that you had spent the whole night at the mill working.

When you finally awoke, you didn't know what to do or think...you seemed to go through the days with little to no emotions, you became quieter and withdrew from everyone around you more and more, feeling disgusted with yourself and replaying Steve's cruel words over and over again in your head, you began to skip meals. When asked about your sudden change, you simply blamed it on the stress of war times and that worked, until you came down with what you thought was a stomach bug that wouldn't leave. But even then you ignored it, even when your clothes started shrinking despite you starving yourself, or when your monthlies never came, you ignored all the signs and evidence of that night until you couldn't anymore. One night after you came home from the mill you found you parents and brothers all sitting in the dining room waiting for you.

"Sit y/n." Your father sat at the head of the table, in this house his word was the law. You sat and looked down at the table, refusing to look up and meet the eyes of your family members or down at your lap that was covered by your growing middle. "William asked Jenny about what happened at the mill four months ago, specifically the night when you limped home and refused to speak to anyone before sleeping the whole day and night away. She said that you never made it to the mill, so tell us y/n, if you did not go to the mill then who did you meet? Because whoever it is, I know that they are the father of that bastard child you are caring." You felt the tears fall one at a time until suddenly, all at once. You finally let yourself go and allowed the sobs to take over your body as everything you'd been ignoring came crushing down on you.

"Oh dear..." your mother came to your side and held you in her arms as your sobs violently shook throughout your body. She carefully wiped away your tears and whispered soft words to you. "What happened dear, tell mom, I won't be mad. Please, you are my only daughter, I've seen how you no longer smile, how you've become withdrawn and dulled."

After a few hiccups, you finally managed to whisper out the words you'd been dreading to face, "I was raped..." As the words left your tongue, your sobs grew louder and you felt your body give out, falling slack into your mother's safe embrace. Your brothers sucked in a breath and your father sat stunned, they seemed to piece together your mother's words and observations with their own experiences with you the last few months and digested it alongside the three horrid words you spoke aloud.

"Y/n..." Your eldest brother William whispered your name and looked at your broken state as the rest his words died before he could speak them. There were always stories of young girls being assaulted, but that was something that only happened to other people...except now it had happened to you, their little sister, and they didn't know what to do or feel.

"Did you see how he looked like?" Your father's voice cracked, betraying him as he tried to hold a strong front at the head of the table. You didn't trust yourself to reply, unable to lie to your family anymore, so instead all you did was cry harder, conflicted with what you were facing. Your mother cried tears of her own as she hushed you like a child and held you closer to her, she looked up at your father with pleading eyes and he understood what she was asking. Even without words, your mother's pained eyes pleaded at your father to not force you to speak and relive the pain you'd experienced that night, and although he wanted to know more in order to try and help you, he complied to your mother's unsaid plea and nodded at your brothers to hold their tongues. "Y/n, you are my only daughter, your mother and I love you very much. But in order to protect you, we must send you away. Your late uncle left your mother his farm, it is far but also close enough that we can come to visit you from time to time...it would be safest and best for you to live there. If you stay here then people will talk, and both you and your child may become endangered due to gossip."

You held your mother tighter, shoving your face further into her chest as you nodded and tried to drown out the sniffling of your brothers silently crying around the family table. The rest of the night was spent packing your things, by morning your things were all loaded into your brother John's work car and everyone waved goodbye to you as your parents drove you away from your childhood home.

When you arrived at the deserted farm your father unloaded the car as your mother helped you clean and unpack some of your things, the drive had taken a full day and night of traveling. You felt guilty and insisted your parents rested a day or two before they returned home, but because of work they ended up only staying that day before starting the drive back.

A month passed and you slowly became accustomed to the house, you worked to sew and fix up old clothes and shoes that Jenny would have William give to John whenever he came by to drop off necessities for you. Your belly grew bigger and it soon became harder to do things around the house, you often found yourself walking around barefoot on the cold hard wooden floors since it had become too hard to bend and put on your socks and shoes. Because John would come to drop off things for you to help patch up, you were able to make a few pennies on the side to prepare for the baby's arrival. You also sent letters home with him and received many from each member of your family, especially your mother.

But John suddenly stopped coming, and then your mother sent a letter through the mail telling you not to try and contact home until John came back. She didn't detail why but you felt that maybe some folks from back home may have started gossiping about your sudden departure, so you respected your mother's wish and stopped writing as instructed and waited for her to write you again or for John to visit and let you know of when this sudden ban would be lifted.

After 2 months of nothing but silence, you became worried. You wanted to return home to see if everything was alright, but now that you were around 6-7 months pregnant, you decided against it and did your best to sit tight in the nearly empty house. You missed seeing your brother, you often found yourself sitting in silence with your ears subconsciously searching for the sound of an old engine, hoping that John would be back to collect the items you'd patched up and with letters from your family with him.

One night while you were upstairs getting ready for bed, your ears caught the sound of an engine. You thought maybe your mind was play tricks, but the sound got closer and before your knew it, your legs began to waddle their way as fast as possible through the house. From the window you could see that there was a vehicle in the front of the house, you were a bit confused at first, you knew what John's work car looked like and it definitely wasn't the one outside, but you chose to ignore the bad feeling at the pit of your stomach after reminding yourself that only your family knew you were out here in the middle of nowhere.

There was a loud knock at the front door and you tried to fasten your pace to go open the door to greet your family after not seeing them for so long. Who you came face to face with stunned you, your instinct kicked in and just as quickly as you'd opened the door, you shut it again and locked it.

"Open the door right now doll, you don't know what I've gone through in order to be here." Steve banged his fist against the door over and over, each one harder than the last, "if you don't open the door then you're gonna regret it. I'm serious y/n, how do you think I found you? I have your family and if you don't open this door then you're never gonna see them ever again." Afraid of what he'd do to your family, you quickly unlocked and opened the door for him.

"What are you doing here?" Your words wavered like your bravery, showcasing your fear.

"Why else would I be here doll, I'm here for you and our child." You stared at Steve and carefully studied his features, he looked older, rougher, his hair was no longer the bright blond it was those months ago, it was now a darker dirty blond. After a while of standing and staring at each other in silence, Steve carefully pushed his way inside. "I know you must have more questions, but I'll explain more inside."

You numbly led him into the living room and stood away from him "Where is my family? What have you done to them?"

"I'll get to that doll, first come here and let me hold you, it's been so long since I've seen you." Steve walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you before you could get away.

"Let me go Steve, tell me where my family is now." You tried to pull away from his embrace but Steve just held you tighter.

"You know y/n, your reaction is a bit different from your family's..did you know I went missing? That I was presumed dead after saving the world by diving myself and a plane loaded with a bomb into ice cold water?" You scrunched your eyebrows together, not understanding anything Steve was saying, he was very clearly alive and in front of you. As if understanding something Steve laughed bitterly as he released you from his embrace and grabbed your upper arms to shake you, "You didn't know? You claim to love me and yet you didn't know that I, the father of your child, died?" He paused to think for a second and scoffed, "Well I guess it does make sense that you wouldn't know, after all, you're out here in the middle of nowhere all alone."

"Steve I don't know what you're talking about or what you want, so please just tell me where my family is and leave me alone." You became more and more frightened by Steve's odd behavior and the crazy things he was saying.

Steve shook his head and looked down at you, "Your family is safe y/n, they put up quite a fight when I came back from the dead to find you. They kept claiming that you'd gotten married and left, but I already knew the truth, I knew that you hadn't left because you got married. I checked for your records when I woke up in the future y/n, couldn't help but wonder what happened to you after I found out that Peggy went off and married, she lived a happy life without me. Should've known that the bitch would move on as easily as she was to fuck. But imagine my surprise and pain when I found out that you'd died in childbirth around 9 to 10 months after we'd spent our last night together?" Steve's hold on you became rougher, he pulled you to him and neared your face, "Imagine that y/n, learning that the one person who ever truly loved me, died trying to give birth my child all alone in a bathtub in the middle of nowhere with no one to be there for her in her last moments. I tried to find your and our child's resting place you know, but everywhere I looked all landed in a dead end, because you two were buried in some unmarked grave on a piece of random land that your parents sold after you died. If your brother hadn't confessed what happened to you on his death bed, then I never would've known about any of this." you gasped in pain as Steve's hold on your upper arms became unbearable, Steve held you closely against him, your bump being squished against his hard body.

Steve seemed to be deep in his own mind when you felt a strong kick from the baby, expressing their displeasure at being woken up from how hard Steve was squishing your bump between you two. Steve's eyes widened and his hold on you softened, he pulled back carefully and looked down at your bump. As if on cue, the baby decided to kick again and Steve saw the way your stomach slightly stretch out where the baby had kicked, he carefully placed his right hand over the spot and felt the baby kick a third time. Steve started crying as he fell to his knees and hugged your waist and rested his head on you stomach.

"I'm so sorry y/n, I never should’ve left you or did what I did to you. But I'm back now, and I can fix things, I swear, I'm not gonna let you and our baby die this time." You tried to pull away from Steve but with every attempted tug, he held on tighter and sobbed harder.

"Steve please get up..." You became more uncomfortable, but no matter how confused or scared you were, you also understood that this wasn't your Steve, this Steve was someone else, someone broken and far more dangerous. You had to be careful not to provoke him. Steve stood and hugged you, he buried his nose in you hair and inhaled the smell of your hair.

"I'm gonna make this right y/n, we're gonna be a happy family. Just like we always used to talk about." You didn't say anything, too afraid of this fragile yet dangerous man...all you did was nod slowly and carefully pulled away from him.

"You seem tired, how about we get some rest and talk more about this in the morning, it's getting very late... I understand what you said, but it's just hard to process... there's a spare room upstairs, you must be tired from driving..." You spoke with a soft tone, careful to not trigger the strange Steve, hoping that he would take this is an act of submission and he wouldn't become aggressive like before.

After leading Steve to the spare room, you returned to your room to sleep. As you were about to fall asleep Steve suddenly barged into your room. You'd debated locking your door earlier but decided against it, too afraid of possibly provoking Steve. Before you could question if he needed anything, Steve walked to your bed and climbed in alongside you and pulled you to his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. "I can't sleep without you, I need to hold you. After everything I-... I refuse to spend another night without you in my arms." As uncomfortable as you felt, your fear greatly outweighed it, so all you did was nod your head and pat Steve's back in hopes of pleasing the stranger with a familiar face. After some time, you felt Steve's breathing even out and you followed him into your own dreamless sleep.

During the middle of the night you woke up with the intense need to pee, as you were carefully untangling yourself from Steve you accidentally woke him up. "What are you doing?" His rough and booming voice scared you.

"The baby is pressing on my bladder, I have to pee..." he hummed and released you from his hold.

"Hurry back." you nodded and headed to the bathroom out in the hall to do your business. After you finished peeing, you noticed the dry feeling in your throat and decided to get some water from the kitchen. While on your way back upstairs from the kitchen you passed the living room and saw the keys to Steve's car, you looked back and forth between the set of keys and the stairs leading up to where Steve slept, unaware of the idea that popped in your head.

You quietly grabbed the keys, slipping on an old pair of shoes that were too big for your feet, you carefully opened the front door as quietly as you could and walked out into the night towards the car. As you were unlocking the car and getting in to try and adjust the seat you saw the living room lights turn on and the front door swing open. Steve face twisted into the most horrendous look of anger you'd ever seen in your many years of being alive. Panicked, you shoved the keys into the emission and started the car.

"Y/n get the fuck out of the car right now and come here before I break your fucking legs." Steve marched his way towards the car, just as he was about to grab onto the car's doorhandles you stepped on the gas and drove away. As your sped away you heard the Steve growl angrily. You didn't know where to go, but you knew that you had to get away from here and closer to civilization. As you were speeding down the road you caught a glimpse of Steve running alongside the car, afraid you tried to press on the gas but that didn't seem to work. Before you knew it, Steve jumped onto the car and yanked off the passenger door handle, you stepped onto the brakes with full force and threw Steve off the car. The car swerved out of control and fell into a ditch, crawling your way out of the car, you felt your left leg shooting with pain, as you looked down at it you saw your bone sticking out. As you laid panting on the side of the road, you placed your arms around your bump and was thankful to feel the baby kicking away to show their unhappiness at the situation. You turned your head when you heard footsteps approaching you, look at the cut up bare feet and all you felt was despair course its way throughout your being, how had Steve survived?

He didn't say anything as he crouched down and pulled up your nightgown to check your stomach, spreading you legs apart to look between your thighs, "There's no bleeding, that's good, means you didn't hurt our baby pulling that dumb stunt of yours." He roughly grabbed your left leg and looked at the bone sticking out, without another word he grabbed your right leg with both his hands and snapped it at the knee, breaking it too, you screamed from the excruciating pain, "I told you I'd break your legs if you didn't listen. This your own fault doll."

Steve stood up and went to open the trunk of the car, "You know, I wanted to keep my words and let you see your family, to let you say your goodbyes before I returned with you despite my displeasure at them for keeping the both of you away from me for two whole months, but now that you've done this, I won't feel any guilt for refusing you your goodbyes." Steve came back with some weird looking clothes in hand, he first put it on himself before he stripped you and put the clothes on you as well. Steve pulled out some weird devices and scooped you into his arms bridal style before the world around you swirled together into weird shapes and colors, blurring together into muddled nonsense before everything went black.

You woke up feeling completely numb, you couldn't feel your arms or legs. The memories of what happened came crashing all at once, causing you to have a bad headache. As you opened your eyes you tried to ask for help, but instead of words rolling off your tongue, you moaned out unintelligible nonsense, alerting the nurse checking your vitals that you were awake.

"Oh, you're awake, I'll go get Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark, and Dr. Banner." The nurse walked away without further explanation and didn't to try and comfort your very clearly distressed self. Not long after she left, Steve and two strange men came into the room.

"The baby's fine, she's got a few broken bones, but considering that you were the one who deliberately caused one, I'd say there’s really not much to worry about. Just monitor her injuries for infection and try to get her some more nutritious food, the tests came back with some slightly worrisome lack of proper vitamins." The man with glasses explained to Steve with a small smile on his face, acting as if this was all normal and Steve purposely breaking one of your legs was a sort of joke between them.

"I had some people move and set up some things for her at your house. Pepper also had a field day with the baby prep stuff, just like when she went on a spree when we had Morgan." The man who spoke had an arm that didn't look human, he was holding a weird piece of glass in his hands spoke without ever bothering to look up from the weird thing in his hands.

"Thank you both, tell the rest of the team I said thanks to them too, everyone has been so helpful." Steve smiled at the two men and walked up to the side of the bed, he caressed your head and bent down to kiss your forehead.

These people were insane, how could they act as is this was normal. "No need to thank us Steve, you deserve some happiness, we all do...we've all been through so much." A woman with red hair suddenly spoke up from the door, she walked over and hugged Steve. "It's good to see you back, some of us worried when you didn't com back sooner."

"Hey Nat, sorry, got held up dealing with some people when I went back." Steve chuckled and shook his head, they all continued to ignore your presence and spoke amongst themselves before they all eventually excused themselves and went off to do their own thing.

"Well doll, those were some very important people, I'm glad you behaved. Bruce and Dr. Cho both gave the OK so we'll be going home after the ultrasound later." You again tried to say something but nothing came out, only a weak and course croaking sound came out. Steve quickly stepped towards you and carefully helped you drink some lukewarm water that was resting on the table beside you. "Sorry doll, your throat must be so dry."

After drinking some water with Steve's help you took a few deep breaths and looked up at him, "Where are we?" Your words so soft that it could've been mistaken for the wind blowing through the window.

"We're in the compound's hospital suite, after the OBGYN finishes giving one last ultrasound we can head home." Steve smiled down at you with a glint of a crazed look at the back of his eyes. He sat on a chair beside your bed and held your hand in his, he kissed your knuckles, drawing your attention to where he kissed you saw a shiny ring on your ring finger. "After the baby is born and you've completely healed, we can hold a beautiful ceremony. For now just focus on getting better doll." You realized what he meant and scrunch up your face is disgust, how could he expect you to marry him after all that he's done to you.

"I want to go home Steve...please...I'm sorry...please just let me go home..." you didn't know what else to do besides plead for Steve to let you go home.

"I know doll, we'll go home after they check on the baby one last time." He smiled at you reassuringly, clearly not understanding what you meant by home. Before you could correct him and explain, a woman came in with a strange machine contraption, she introduced herself as being a doctor and explained that she was going do something weird so that you could somehow see your baby on the machine, you didn't understand what she was saying but Steve kept nodding and seemed to understand everything. The doctor moved exposed your belly, she placed a weird substance on it and used an odd object to push along and spread the substance around your belly. The machine showed weird shapes as she moved the object around, she smiled and stopped when a big weird shape that looked slightly human-like showed on the machine. She turned and touched some things on the machine before the room was filled with the sound of a loud steady beating.

"That is your baby on the screen and their heartbeat sounds very strong." Steve had tears in his eyes as he held your hand and looked at the shape on the machine, you didn't fully understand, but you did understand that you were looking at your baby and you were hearing their heartbeat. The doctor moved the object and pushed into your stomach slightly as if searching for something and faced to you when she did find whatever it was that she was looking for, "Congratulations, you're having a boy Mr and Mrs. Rogers." she continued explaining more and talked with Steve for a bit, but you drowned out their conversation, all you could focus on was the news she'd given you. When you came back to, the doctor had cleaned everything up and was saying her goodbyes as she left.

Steve carefully helped you put on a loose dress and carried you onto a wheelchair that a nurse had brought in after the doctor left, he wheeled you past strange rooms filled with even stranger things. After placing you in a weird yet comfortable car, Steve drove you through a city covered in large screens that displayed odd images with vibrant colors, people wore weird clothes as he drove past them. Steve did not seem phased at any of this, acting as if this was all normal to him, "I know, it can be overwhelming at first doll, but don't worry too much about getting used to it, we won't be surrounded by all this at the house." You wanted to say something, ask all the questions that tornado'ed around in your mind..but you were left speechless and overwhelmed. As Steve continued to drive, you slowly felt the hum of the car moving lull you to sleep.

"Come on doll, I know you must be so exhausted, but you gotta wake up and eat some food." Steve's soft voice woke you up, this time when you looked around, you saw that you were in a room full of sharp looking objects, there was no warmth around. "I know, everything looks very monochrome and modern, but that's just Tony's style, we can get stuff and decorate the house more to your liking after you get better." Steve carefully helped you sit up on the soft bed and hand fed you food he blew on to chill.

You closed your mouth and turned your head, refusing to eat the weird food that he was trying to feed you. "Steve...where are we...I want to go home, I don't know what’s going on and why you're doing this or what I've done, but please just take me home. I don't know what you want, but I'll try to give it to you...please...just let me go home...I wanna see my family..." you cried as you finally managed to voice your pleas to Steve. He let out a frustrated sigh and placed the food on the table beside the bed.

"Y/n, you are home. I'm doing this for us, I know I hurt you with how I left, but I'm doing my best to make it up to you alright? I travelled through time just to bring you to the future so that we could have the life we always dreamed of. As for your family...that is your own fault, if you'd just listened to me then I would've let you see them and say your goodbyes, but instead you decided to put yourself and our baby in danger. Please stop crying and looking at me as if I'm a monster, I'm doing this for us, for our little family." Steve placed his hand on your bump and caressed it lovingly, "When I first came out of the ice and realized that I'd lost nearly 70 years, I felt lost and broken. Then after I managed to learn and adapt, I looked for answers. When I learned that Peggy had lived happily without me, I felt defeated, I'd saved the country and countless lives, but it cost me my own life and happiness. While I grieved the lost of Peggy, I had a dream of you one night. After that dream I remembered how I'd broken your heart and wondered what'd happened to you, so I searched for answers...at first every lead I had led to a dead end, it was as if you'd disappeared off the face of the earth...that was until I found out that your brother William was still alive, I eventually managed to arrange a visit with him and told him we were old friends in school, that we'd bonded because of our loser statuses and he opened up like red sea did for Moses. He told me about how your parents sent you away to live on a farm all alone after your family had found out you were pregnant after getting raped. He told me about how your brother John always drove back and forth between home and the farm house, how overtime John became frustrated and irritated that he was always the one who had to drive back and forth, he told me about how you would never talk about your rape, how John became suspicious that you knew who it was and was trying to protect their identity. William wept as he told me about how John had refused to come see you after you'd refused to talk to him about who had assaulted you. He barely managed to make out the explanation of how John and him found you dead and covered in your own blood, you’d died trying to give birth in a cold bathtub, all alone. How John blamed himself for refusing to drive to check up on you, William also detailed to me about how the guilt ate at John until he couldn't live with himself anymore and he took his own life as well.".

Steve reached out for your left hand and played with the shiny ring he'd placed on your finger without your permission, "When I asked where you and our baby was buried, William just stared off and said that he couldn't remember, that your family had buried you in what used to be the garden of flowers before you parents sold the old farm off to a company. When he couldn't grasp why I was so invested in what happened to you, I revealed to him the truth. That I'd been the one who raped you, I told him everything and I watched as your brother died of anger, frustration, and heartache. I could've called for a nurse or doctor, but I didn't I watched him die a slow, pained, and guilt-filled death. What I did to you wasn't right, but how your family casted you away and left you and our unborn child to die alone in a cold bathtub in the middle of nowhere was worst." You trembled and tried to pry your hand away from Steve's hold but he just clicked his tongue and continued to play with your fingers.

"I lived in regret, you'd spent your life loving me...truly loving me, and I'd thrown that away for someone who couldn't even wait a proper mourning period for me...but you, you died trying to bring a piece of me into this world..." Steve was beyond delusion, you hadn't gone through the pregnancy for him. Steve had built this narrative of his own, he believed that you'd died trying to birth a part of him so you could stay close to him, when in reality, it was simply because this was YOUR child who you loved, not because it was Steve's.

Before you could correct him, Steve went on, "When Tony found a way to go back to the past it hadn't even crossed my mind to use it to come back to you, in fact when I saw Peggy again I'd forgotten all about you, the old feelings of what I felt for her came rushing back...when I went back to return the stone to her timeline, I had planned to stay with her, but I saw that she had already moved on and I was beyond furious until I remembered you and our baby..." Steve released your hand and began to caress where your baby was starting to kick, "I came back and explained everything to the team, they all agreed that I deserved my happy ending too, so I traveled to the past one last time, this time it was to bring you two home, to save you two from your untimely deaths."

You didn't know if Steve somehow delusionally believed that his explanation was supposed to woo you, but you did know that it did just the opposite of that. "But your family was so selfish, they'd refused to tell me where you were, and when I'd confessed that I was the father of your child, they refused even more...so I did what I do best, I beat it out of them. It took your family two long months before William cracked after I threatened his precious Jenny. Despite how annoyed I was with them for keeping us apart for even longer, I was still willing to let you say goodbye and see them one last time before I brought you back to the future with me...but then you just had to pull that dumb stunt with the car..." Steve looked up at you and smiled smugly. "Y/n, this is home now. We'll be happy here, you can never leave me, you don't know anything about the future, and I plan to keep it that way. I'll never let you go now that I've finally got you back."

Steve climbed on top of you as he revealed your future to you. You tried to move away from him but stop when he purposely put pressure on your broken legs, "Don't provoke me y/n..." In a swift move, Steve tore off the blanket that separated you from him. Like a crazed animal he ripped off the loose dress you still wore, "God, I wanted to wait until you healed, but it's been so long since I've been in you doll." Steve squeezed your breasts with no remorse, your breasts leaked and squirted milk everywhere. Steve moaned loudly at the sight, he bent down and began to suck on your right nipple, drinking as if he'd been deserted for days without water. Just when you thought he was going to stop after he released your right nipple from his mouth, Steve began to suck and bite your left nipple as well, coaxing your breasts to continue feeding him its nectar.

Steve's hands roamed you body, rubbing their way all over until one of his hands wandered its way between your thighs and found the very sensitive nub you always tried to avoid touching after accidentally brushing over it once when you were showering. You thrashed you body around, trying to remove his hand from it, "Do you know what this is doll?" Steve gripped your hip and forced you still with his left hand as his right thumb rubbed circles around the nub between your thighs, "This is your clit...god you don't even know all the things I'm gonna do to you, if you thought what we used to do as teens was good, then you're gonna die of bliss from what I'll do to you tonight."

You felt your body grow warmer as an unknown feeling bundled at the pit of your stomach near your bladder. Steve continued to rub your 'clit' and ignored your pleas for him to stop, you began panting harder and harder, trying to catch your breath as the bundle of nerves near your bladder threatened to break loose. Steve bent his head and bit down on your right nipple, throwing you over the edge and breaking the bundle of nerves loose. Your back arched up, thrusting your breasts up towards Steve as your breasts both squirted and leaked milk everywhere and your thighs shook violently as the bundle of nerves near your bladder broke, you sobbed in humiliation as you felt and believed that you had just urinated on the bed. Steve moaned loudly and brought his right hand up to examine it, his hand was covered in a clear substance. You knew that the liquid like goo on his hand had come from your outburst, and to your utter shock, Steve licked and sucked his hand clean. "Fuck, doll, you taste to fucking good." You covered your eyes, refusing to look at Steve after what he just did to you. "Ah, ah, ah...what a bad girl...don't you dare look away from me." Steve grabbed your hands and roughly tied them behind your back with his belt, you hadn't even realized that he'd taken off his pants and shirt while his was drinking your breastmilk.

Steve lifted you like a rag doll and made you sit on his lap, your back on his front and making you face a big screen that was on the wall at the foot of the bed. "Jarvis, replay the footage of y/n cumming." After Steve spoke to no one, the screen suddenly lit up and displayed you sobbing and moaning lewdly as your back arched and spread breast milk everywhere. "See that doll? God you look so fucking gorgeous cumming like such a cock-hungry whore." As As horrified as you felt from watching yourself on the screen, you also couldn't concentrate because of Steve's hand that was once again rubbing your 'clit'. Steve slid two of his fingers inside you, making you throw your head back from the feeling of being stuffed with something after neglecting your needs for so long. "Jarvis, display live footage." the screen switched to you sitting on top of Steve who had his fingers pumping in and out of you and his thumb rubbed your clit. Steve used his free hand to force you to look at the screen. "Look at yourself doll, what a lovely whore you are...keep your eyes on the screen as I make you come again." Steve curled his two fingers inside of you and pressed up against a sensitive patch inside of you and made you watch the screen as you once again screamed out like a whore in heat and arched your back, breasts leaking and squirting milk all over your bulging stomach and broken legs that were both wrapped in casts. You held onto Steve's forearms in hopes of stopping him, but this seemed to just fuel him further. "That doll, was your g-spot." Steve laughed manically as he moved his hand from your jaw down to your throat, he began to squeeze harder, closing up your airway. As you became more light headed Steve licked you tear off your cheeks and removed his fingers from inside you to roughly pinch your clit, your body tried to jerk away but Steve ignored it and aligned his cock it at your pussy hole that was twitching from cumming twice. "Watch as I fuck you, watch as your greedy cunt stretches and swallows up my big cock. Just like it did the night I raped our baby into you."

You watched in horror as Steve tightened his hold on your throat, completely cutting off your airway as he thrust his cock all the way into you all in one go and pulled on your clit with the fingers that was pinching it. Your body spasmed and you saw nothing but stars as you cummed harder than the last two times, the feeling was so intense that the world went black for a bit before your regain consciousness and saw that Steve holding your hips to fuck you up and down his cock, treating you like the nickname he always called you...doll. "Fuck that as so hot, I can't wait to fuck another baby into you doll." Steve grunted and shoved you down onto him so hard that you felt in crush against and nearly past your cervix, even though you had just woke up, you found yourself cumming again. Steve moaned loudly as he came inside you, painting your insides with his cum.

Steve let go of your hips and your fell back against him, unable to move a single muscle or bone in your body. You saw yourself on the screen panting for air like a dog. Steve wrapped his arms around you and carefully caressed your bump, he kissed the top of your head lovingly, "I love you so much y/n, I can't believe we can finally live the rest of our lives together, just like we used to talk about..."

...

Goodbye all 🫡 now for me to go drown myself in some holy water and fall off the face of the Earth again...

#1940s steve rogers #1940s steve rogers x plus size reader #angsty #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #dark steve x reader #dark steve rogers #mean steve #crazy steve rogers #dark avengers #crazy avengers

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