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#dark!steve rogers
buckys-wintersoldier · 13 hours
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Never say “no” to your husband | Steve Rogers
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Dark!Mob!Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> You say “no” when Steve wants you to warm his cock in front of his men.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 557
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 18+, Minors DNI Smut, dark!Steve, mention of fingering, unprotected p in v, rough sex
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> 🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about: Dark!Steve Rogers + covering your mouth @stargazingfangirl18
𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for sending that Drabble idea. It was funny.
Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist
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“Come on. Don’t be like that, honey.”
Steve groans and grasps your hand, stopping you from leaving the room while he turns you around. Your front crashes almost painfully against the hard wall in front of you. You hiss softly, and Steve pushes himself against you, holding you tight between the wall and his body. You can feel his tensing muscles against your back and the way his fingers dig into your skin.
“Stevie, pl-,” you whimper, but you get interrupted by his forward thrusting hips.
Steve's hand snaps to your face, covering your mouth before you can complain or beg even more. He knows that you would try to convince him to let go of you, but he won’t. He is desperate, and he wants you, your tight pussy. He owns his reward; he is the most popular mob boss, so he deserves to be treated like that. He thrusts his hips another time forward, his growing bulge pressing against your ass, and you whine against his hand.
“Told you to be good. Wanted to bury my dick inside of you earlier, but you made a scene. There were just a few of my men. You're a bad girl. You little slut, now I’m gonna fuck you,” he mumbles into your ear before he kisses down your neck.
Steve’s hand, which isn’t covering your mouth, removes your pants, freeing his cock. He moans loudly when he runs his thumb over the tip of his hard cock, smearing the pre-cum all over his dick, and gives himself a few strokes. Your husband loves to have you like that, begging for him to stop, maybe for his cock - depends on his mood. But now he just wants to fuck the attitude out of you, the way you said “no” to him when he told you to warm his dick. You didn’t want to, since he had a meeting with his men. Steve didn’t like to hear a no when it came to things he asked for. Not to mention that he always gets what he wants, as does his sweet little wife, who has to give him whatever he wants.
Steve’s hand lets go of his dick, sliding around your body until he reaches your pussy, moving them through your already wet folds. Steve chuckles, knowing your body exactly and how to touch you to make you drip like that. He rubs your clit, adding more pressure while he listens to the soft, muffled moans that leave your lips.
“Like that, don’t you? Such a pretty little slut for me.”
Before you can protest in any way, he shoves his dick inside of you. Your walls are stretching painfully, but your arousal makes it easy for him to slide balls deep inside of your tight pussy. Steve can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of you and your pretty little pussy.
“Don’t try to wiggle out of my grip. We both know you love that, love being fucked like that by your husband,” he groans, starting to thurst in a brutal pace inside of you.
His hand covers your mouth, your screams and moans muffled by it, while his dick stretches you like no one else could. And as much as you hate to admit it, he is able to fuck you whenever and wherever you want.
Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @felicitylemon @cjand10 @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf
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babyjakes · 3 months
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you all over me.
〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
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event | kinkmas 2023
prompt | double penetration
pairing | soft!dark!daddies!steve rogers and ari levinson x little!reader
warnings | dark ddlg dynamic (soft!dark!daddies of captive!little!reader.) dub/non-con. size kink. reader is held down and fucked. stretching. loss of anal virginity. unprotected double penetration (vaginal and anal.) mentions of anal training/stretching/fingering. clit rubbing. crying kink. praise and encouragement. mocking/humiliation. forced orgasm (with implied previous forced orgasms.) overstimulation. they come in her. little bit of aftercare.
word count | 1,386
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an | this is written in the same au as clear blue water, with captive!reader and her soft!dark!daddies.
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Tears poured down your damp cheeks as your face was tucked into the warm crook of Steve's neck. Arms reaching up weakly, you almost wanted to cling to the safety of his broad form as he lay beneath you, heavy breaths harmonizing with your own.
But that wouldn't do for your daddies- not for either of them. "Come on, babydoll. Where's that pretty face," the blonde crooned as his hips thrust upward over and over, rocking your own. His hands were on your waist, Ari's just above them as both the men worked to keep you upright and in place, their massive lengths pounding into you with steady rhythm.
They had been fucking you like this for what felt like hours, but the sensations of fullness and overstimulation you were experiencing were still just as overwhelming and horrible as when they had first pushed into you. Steve had gone first, both of the men knowing you would tolerate his part better. They were a bit concerned when you were in tears from the vaginal penetration alone, but as usual, they wouldn't be discouraged. As difficult as it was, and as pitiful as you were to watch as you were held down and split open, Ari was eventually able to work himself into you as well.
As they kept their four strong hands on you, working you up and down over their throbbing cocks like nothing more than a fleshlight with a pulse, you honestly couldn't tell which forceful insertion felt worse. It was all blurring together, the world nothing more than a streaky haze through your steady tears. The men shared a sympathetic glance with each other before Steve refocused his attention back on you. "Poor girl," he murmured lowly, bringing a hand up to brush away your tears with his thumb. "Know it's so hard, little one. So hard to take both your daddies' cocks at the same time, isn't it?"
"So full, aren't you, baby?" Ari nodded in agreement, his oversized member stretching your poor little bottom to its absolute limit. Despite the generous amount of lube they'd used and the time they'd spent patiently coaxing your tiny hole open with their greedy fingers, nothing could ease the horrible burning feeling that bloomed through your lower half as you were taken in the ass for the very first time.
"Look so pretty like this, all stretched out stuffed full of us," Steve groaned, his cock twitching so hard within your aching walls that you could feel it, your poor tummy spasming in response. To the man lying comfortably on his back, there had never been a sight quite as beautiful as this: watching from the front as your tiny holes were so helplessly violated, large hands holding you in place and giving you no choice but to sit there and take it, your perky tits bobbing perfectly as your figure was worked at a steady, punishing pace.
And though he couldn't see your chest as well, or the pretty little faces you were making as your body was used and abused so sinfully, Ari's view from behind you wasn't anything to turn his nose up at, either. He loved the way your back arched up as their dicks kept you angled forward towards Steve, your adorable ass bouncing in rhythm as his cock tore into your throbbing, achy hole. He could easily keep you going with just his hands alone; with both him and Steve being so much larger and stronger than you, it wasn't difficult for either one of them to overpower you and allow the other to make better use of a second pair of hands.
Which is just what Steve did as his partner held you up and in place, giving him the signal of a nod. "Go ahead, Stevie. Let's give some attention to that pretty little clit of hers," Ari suggested. Steve spit on his thumb, bringing the other hand down to pull back its protective hood as he smeared the clear wetness all over your poor little bundle of nerves. Your body jerked harshly at the stimulation, but you couldn't do anything to stop them or squirm away; you were completely helpless, having no choice but to let the blonde rub your exposed little nub in quick, harsh circles.
"Please, p-please... n-no!" you choked through your tears as your whole body began to shake with sobs.
"C'mon doll, doesn't that feel good? Know you like it when we pull back the hood and rub you right there, right on your cute little button," Steve frowned and faked worry at your cries, though he and Ari both knew perfectly well the way their actions and words were tormenting you.
"That's right," Ari mused from behind you as he kept your trembling body moving across their stiff lengths, "our pretty girl loves having her sweet little clit rubbed. Makes her come so hard, doesn't it Stevie? Poor baby can't help it when her daddies play with her clit, but it sure is cute to watch her try and fight it."
"So cute," Steve hummed in agreement, watching intently as your breaths began staggering, your little feet kicking weakly as your knees shook and struggled on either side of him. "Oh? Looks like she's getting close here," the blonde sang as he continued his skillful work over your slick, sticky nub. "Can feel her little pussy fluttering- what do you think, babydoll? You gonna be a good girl and come for your daddies?"
Watching as your buildup continued, Ari and Steve shared a knowing nod, both increasing the speed of their respective roles as their cocks pumped more vigorously inside you. This is the moment they had been waiting for; of course they were hoping to come as you did. A few orgasms had been forced from your trembling form earlier as you were held down by one and stretched out on the other's fingers, but this was meant to be the grand finale, the climax you would all share, whether you were willing or not.
"Can feel her squeezing us- she's getting close," Ari grunted as their dicks clapped lewdly into your dripping holes. "That's it, sweetheart. Come on, almost there..."
Your resistance was a losing game. As much as you fought and defied them each time, a sense of helplessness was never absent from within you; you knew you'd be forced to come. And with both of them thrusting into you at an almost immeasurable speed, and Steve's torturous hands working your clit the way he knew best, there was nothing for you to do but let them have their way with you. Eyes squeezing shut as your tummy tightened, your little toes curled as your orgasm was ripped from your faltering grasp. You came long and hard, Steve and Ari's triumphant words of praise merely echoes as heat and shocks of ecstasy overcame your exhausted body.
Warmth burst in your core as you were pumped full of both the men's come, Ari's fingers digging in almost painfully around your waist as their cocks swelled and sputtered within you. When you were finally coming down from your impressively long high, you let out a soft, broken cry as Steve finally eased your body down to rest limply against his front. "Shhh," you could hear him humming soothingly, someone's hand rubbing your back as you sniffled and sobbed into your captor's chest. "Easy pulling out of her," he was murmuring to Ari as the world seemed to slow around you.
"You're okay, baby. You were so good for us," the brunette was praising you softly from behind as he shifted a bit inside you, trying to measure how careful he needed to be as he and his partner now shifted their focus towards damage control.
"Don't cry, little one. Daddy's here, Daddy's got you," Steve kissed the top of your head as he cooed at you, his broad arms cradling you lovingly as you clung to him. You were desperate for any comfort and tenderness you could get at this point, even if it was straight from the hands of your abusers. This is usually how you wound up at the end of the day, a weeping mess in your daddies' arms, and they wouldn't have it any other way.
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hansensgirl · 5 months
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☠️ — 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝
summary. | Steve Rogers and his wife have a precarious arrangement in which she can have as many affairs as she likes, as long as she doesn’t ask for a divorce. But a man like him only has so much patience. And there you are, his child’s babysitter, too sweet to resist.
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pairings. | Dark!Steve Rogers x baby-sitter!fem!reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (brief), Peggy Carter x numerous OMCs (implied/mentioned).
warnings. | NON/DUB-CON (leaning more towards dubious consent), smut, age gap, Halloween celebrations, deceit, manipulation, Steve is mean to his wife, obsession, possessiveness, implied murder (not the reader), mentions of masturbation (m), fingering (f), kissing, nipple play, Sir kink, mild Daddy kink, creampie, dirty talk, power dynamics/imbalance, praise, mild degradation, pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, baby, love), missionary, rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of riding, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. | ~4.8k
author’s note. | hello! happy belated halloween! i know i’m a bit late—i’m sorry. here’s the dark!steve fic i was talking about. it’s a Deep Water!AU. please enjoy and heed the warnings! thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing and putting up with me! let me know what you think. thank you for reading! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY
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The leaves fall apart underneath the pace of his feet. The hill slopes downwards, and the branches snap and hit the ground. Steve keeps pushing—keeps running even though he’s long devolved from a jog. The burn in his lungs is beautiful. He’s breathless.
For once, he doesn’t have to think about little Sarah and her mother. He doesn’t have to worry like a housewife, even though he was once the man of the house.
Millions in revenue. Two vacation homes. Endless income. But it’s never enough for her.
When Steve reaches the creek, he stops. The Apple watch on his wrist clocks in an unhealthy amount of steps. Unhealthy for everyone else, at least. He’s always been above average, and now he’s just like the rest.
Another greying head in the sea of a crowd. Another typical client his shrink has with the same old problems—a cheating wife, a midlife crisis.
His phone buzzes, and Steve half-expects a reminder he doesn’t need. But it’s better—so much better than he could ever predict.
It’s you—your name with a heart. His spouse doesn’t even have that—she’s just got her entire government name with “wife” in parentheses.
Hi, Mr. Rogers. Hope you enjoyed your weekend! I wanted to confirm that I’m coming tonight. I texted Mrs. Rogers yesterday, but I haven’t received a reply yet. Sorry to be pushy. I just need to know in time. Thanks, and Happy Halloween! 🎃
He sighs. He’s never understood why you always go to Peggy first, even though you’ve seen her incompetency more than you do your own family. He’ll have a talk with you tonight—while Peggy is out on a date with her latest suitor.
Hey, honey. I hope your weekend is as wonderful as you are. Yes, we’re still on for tonight. Don’t worry about my wife. From now on, just come to me, okay? Be here by 7:00, please. Thanks. Happy Halloween! 👻
Steve replies a few minutes later, but you read his message immediately. The timestamp makes him smile. Soon, the ‘typing’ icon pops up and following it is your message.
Great, thank you so much! See you then :)
You even leave a ‘heart’ on his text message; he does the same to yours. A sigh escapes the older man’s chest. His heart has returned to its regular rate, and the sweat on his back has cooled.
The scene before him is gorgeous—but doesn’t even hold a candle to your beauty. The thought of you is more addictive than any illicit substance. It calms him down when he needs to and riles him up at the worst times.
Steve says it’s not fair. Peggy shouldn't have all the fun with her boyfriends—even when her husband gets rid of them quicker than need be. It’s exhausting to deviate from law enforcement for a woman who doesn’t care about her own family.
She gets to devise grand schemes and say mean words to him. She doesn’t bother with her own daughter. She doesn’t lift a finger or pay for a thing with money she earned. Steve has to live in the shadows—and he’s tired of it.
The almost 50-year-old man follows his usual trail back home. Sirens pass behind him, heading toward some emergency that he undoubtedly has nothing to do with. Not this time, at least.
He feels like a dog in the manger. Everyone can have Peggy (to a certain extent), but he can’t have anyone himself.
Fake cobwebs and pumpkins sit outside houses on each side of the road. It’s the spookiest night of the year, yet you have no plans. No parties to attend with some stupid little boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you the way he would.
When Steve unlocks the front door, he finds his wife’s heels strewn on the floor and his daughter watching cartoons in the living room. He kisses Sarah’s head and ensures she’s eaten the entirety of her breakfast. He tried his best with ghost-shaped pancakes, though they turned out more like blobs than anything. She doesn’t mind at all.
Sarah’s a brainiac, her new hobby being those kits that teach you how to hook wires into potatoes and other vegetables. Steve applauds her creations every time she shows them off, noting the little technological genius in her that he must’ve contributed to.
That is, if he’s her biological father.
The television screen plays her choice of cartoons, with a Halloween theme for the special day. He smiles when she laughs before heading upstairs.
Peggy has the largest room with the nicest furniture. She spends little time there unless she’s getting ready to go out or recovering from a hangover.
Steve knocks on her door. Despite there being no answer, he unlocks it and lets himself in. His wife is wide awake, eye makeup smudged a bit, but she’s wearing her signature jeans with a tank top.
She turns around and smiles at the sight of him. “What do you think?” she asks, gesturing to the costume she has laid out.
It’s a vampire—that’s as much as he gathers. The little voice in his head tells him how fitting it is—Peggy has sucked the life out of him for the last seven years.
“Perfect,” Steve tells her, giving her his most forced smile, and they both know she sees right through it.
“Good. And what are you going as?” she questions, turning her back to him. He genuinely contemplates this for a second.
For the last few years, he’s always worn a cheap cape and said he’s a superhero. But he’s tired of the same thing all the time.
“I’m not sure. I’ll come up with something, though. What time are you leaving?” Steve asks. “Oh, probably around six. Don’t wait up for me. You’ll take Sarah trick-or-treating, right?” Peggy smiles, unwilling to take ‘no” for an answer.
Steve says nothing and simply leaves. He takes his phone out of his pocket—sleek screen and a photo of you and Sarah as one of his wallpapers—and pulls up his conversation with you.
Hey, hon. Do you mind coming a bit earlier? 6:30 will do.
He doesn’t even have to wait for your reply.
Sure! Do you want me to stay the night, too? I don’t mind.
Always diligent. Always a sweetheart.
Please do. The door will be unlocked.
You give his message a thumbs-up, and he sighs.
Tonight will be the night. Tonight, he’ll finally get what he wants, and no one can stop him. Not even you.
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You give the door a knock three times, even though you’re more than welcome to simply enter. It feels wrong, though. Too familiar, too casual.
Halloween is one of your favourite holidays. It’s a day full of excitement and creativity, and the month leading up to it is terrific. The turning leaves and the cold weather that lets you wear your coziest sweaters. The candy is the cherry on top of the entire delicacy.
You’ve never been on for extravagant costumes due to your procrastination. Tonight, you’re an angel. You don an all-white get-up; a lace dress, sheer tights, and matching shoes. You have a borrowed halo on your head and floppy wings on your back. It’s the best you can do for now.
Steve opens the door a few moments later, and he’s wearing a black suit. His hair is gelled, and he has a toothy grin—a change from his usual scowl. You smile at the sight of him.
“Happy Halloween!” you cheer, and he laughs. “Happy Halloween, sweetheart. What are you supposed to be? The devil?” he jokes. “Hardy-har-har. I’m an angel. But what are you? A CEO?” you ask, raking your eyes up and down his body.
The older man basks in your attention, his ears burning red.
“Actually, I’m a groom. Something different from the superhero thing, you know? It was the only thing I could come up with,” he sheepishly admits, and you wave his shyness away. “I love that! I never see anyone do something simple yet unique. But no decorations?”
You glance back at his front lawn and see nothing but withered flowers and yellow leaves from the neighbour’s over-arching tree. His porch simply has a bowl of candy with a threatening “TAKE ONE (1)” sign, assumingly written by Sarah.
“Nope. But there’s always next year!” he reassures. You giggle and nod your head. Your cheeks burn from smiling so much. Do you find him amusing? Or is it forced? Steve has numerous questions running through his mind, some exciting the butterflies in the attic that is his stomach, and some boiling his blood.
“C’mon in. No jacket? You must be freezing. You’re better than that, honey,” he chides like the father he is. He locks the door behind you—chain and all. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold,” you admit, removing your shoes. Steve takes them from you and places them on the rack where Peggy’s usual ankle boots would be.
You note the absence of her items and the lack of noise from the television. You don’t pay them much mind.
“Ah, rookie mistake. If you want, you can borrow a jacket from me,” he offers, picking up a stray black feather from the floor. You set your small backpack on the bottom step and follow his lead.
“So… What’s Sarah’s costume? She kept talking about being a minion, and then a cow, so I’m not too sure,” you laugh, and Steve does the same. “Peggy wanted her to be one of those Mario characters, but you know Sarah. Tonight, she’s Albert Einstein. Including the wig, of course.”
When you enter the clean living room, you expect to see her adorable face dressed as the notorious physicist. But she’s not there—and neither are the family photos.
“Um, sir, where is she?” you question, and he gestures to one of the sofas. You take a seat and wait for his return. He comes back with two drinks and hands you one of them. “Sarah is at her grandma’s. Peggy is at one of those parties she always goes to,” Steve coolly explains.
“Oh, are we going there? Or do you want me to stay back and give candy out?” You take a sip of your drink—a cherry limeade you once raved about to him. The sparkling water fizzles on your tongue. “No, she’ll be going trick-or-treating with her cousins.”
There’s a beat. A moment. And it lasts for a while.
“Uh, so what am I doing here?” you query. “Sweetheart. I’m a bit disappointed. You probably think that’s all I want you here for, don’t you? C’mon, you’re more than a babysitter to me.”
Steve places emphasis on his last word. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I really don’t understand what you’re implying,” you profess, downing more of your drink out of sheer nervousness. Are you being fired? Are they moving? Did you do something wrong?
“Oh, honey, c’mere,” he says, even though he comes to you. He moves from his position across from you—standing tall in his full, towering height. Steve sits down next to you and places his large, warm hand on your cold left thigh. “Don’t be scared. M’not gonna hurt you. You’re not in trouble,” he says in a low tone.
When he’s this close to you, you can see the details of his face entirely. Whenever you’ve tried to admire him from afar, it’s like he knows when you’re looking.
“You’re so sweet… So pretty. I bet you’re nice and soft, too, hm? And you’ll be a good girl for me?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. You open your mouth to say something to him, but you’re quickly shut up with a searing kiss.
Steve presses his lips against yours, and it’s better than anything he could have ever imagined. The fantasies he’s had during those late nights or showers with his fist wrapped around his cock don’t even compare.
He takes charge, pushing his tongue inside your mouth and exploring within. His strong hands scoop you into his lap, one of them holding the back of your head. You lean back as Steve’s forwardness dominates you. You’re not sure what to do, so you place your palms on his shoulders and use a bit of force to try to push him away.
The married man doesn’t budge. It’s getting hard to breathe, and you feel like he’s sucked the air out of your lungs. You sink your teeth down lightly on what you think is his tongue, and he hisses as he pulls away.
“Sir– We can’t do this. It isn’t right. I– I mean, you’re my boss, and you have a wife—and poor Sarah, she doesn’t deserve this–”
“Fuck Peggy. Do you really think she cares? I don’t love her, never have. I only love you, darling. Now, what you just di–”
“Love me? Mr. Rogers, I think you’re mistaken. Maybe it’s just because we’re alone, or you and Peggy have been distant, but you don’t love me, Sir. I won’t mention this to anyone, I swear. And I’ll find another job if you’d like,” you breathlessly explain, shaking your head.
Steve shushes you with a snarl. “You’re not leaving me.” His voice is stern, and his tone says it all—there’s no arguing. “Please,” you try to get off the older man’s lap, but he holds onto you tightly. “We’re perfect for each other, honey. Don’t you see? Sarah loves you, and you love her. And look! I’m your groom, and you’re my angelic wife,” he exclaims, pulling the halo and ripping the wings off.
You gasp at his strength and audacity. You’d try to fight him, but you know you’d end up more hurt than anything. “Please don’t make this difficult,” he demands, adding your name. The mention makes you flinch, as he rarely says it.
“Look at those eyes… All blown out. I bet you’re soaking, aren't you?” Steve asks, but you don’t reply. His blue irises seem much darker in the dim lighting. His pupils are wide, and it’s like looking at a man who’s been possessed. “You’re probably making a mess of your panties, and we’ve barely even started. Does that always happen when you’re around me? Gosh, I bet you smell so sweet.”
His words make you whimper, and he smiles. “Oh, and look at those perfect tits,” he hums, groping them. Your nipples are stiff as peaks, and the rough touch from Steve has you shuddering. “Pl– Please,” you beg as he pulls at the nubs. The pain teeters on pleasure, and you squeeze your thighs to put an end to the thrumming at your core.
“‘Please,’ what, sweetie? Hm?”
“Please, Sir,” you whisper.
The title makes him groan. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting you,” Steve expresses. You don’t want to know. “Ever since we met… D’you remember that floral dress you wore? That you kept pulling up? God, I wanted to take you right there…”
You remember that day all too well. Seeing Mr. Rogers in all his glory was riveting, and the slight crush you developed lives on. Now—you’re not sure. Your brain is a mess, and you can’t think straight.
Your boss lifts you up bridal style, and he doesn’t let this go unnoticed. “See? We were meant for each other, honey. And we don’t even need a wedding.”
He sets you down on the bed in the room on the main floor. You’ve stayed here from time to time when Peggy likes to come out at two in the morning, and Steve is beyond worried for her.
Was it all a farce? You remember those times and how he never called her or insisted on picking her up.
Steve’s hands pull at your cheap dress, and he rips it down the middle. You regret your choice of not wearing a bra, but either way, it would’ve done nothing.
He cups your breasts, and you moan at the touch. He latches his mouth onto one nipple as he plays with the other. His mouth is skilled—his tongue flicking and teeth slightly grazing the sensitive skin.
Mr. Rogers’ fingers are just as talented. They pinch, pull, and twist at your other peak simultaneously. He switches eventually, and you’re a puddle beneath the imposing man.
Your back is arched slightly, and you’re practically pushing your chest into his face, and he chuckles. “So desperate. You need me so badly, don’t you?” he says, nodding his head and smiling when you mimic him for a split second. “Atta girl—so good for me.”
Steve pulls back, and you whine. He soothes you and pulls his jacket off. You can see the ripples of muscle beneath the white collared shirt. He unbuckles his belt with swiftness. You gnaw on your bottom lip despite its swollenness.
Soon, he’s back on you. Your boss hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and he pulls them down your legs, admiring the strings of slick that break from the distance. He pushes the cloth into his pocket, and you clench when you think of the things he’ll do with it later on.
In your mind is a tiny voice that chides your every wrongdoing—how you haven’t fought back as much as you should. But there’s a louder one that was once lovesick over the married man before you, and it’s far more convincing.
Steve spreads your legs and curses at the sight of your sopping cunt. You involuntarily clench from the exposure. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. One arm keeps him up, and the other bends your knees, giving him better access.
His fingers slide against your folds, collecting wetness as he caresses your lips. You let out a pleasured sigh, secretly wishing he would stop tormenting you and just get it over with. “So sensitive, too. I bet you’ll make such a mess on my cock.”
You never knew Steve could have such a filthy mouth—and God, do his words have your head spinning.
He quickly finds your swollen, throbbing clit and lightly touches it. The sensations on your little pearl are mild, but they’re enough to have you writhing beneath Steve. He draws light circles with the tips of his fingers. Your mouths brush against each other, and he teases you until you’re whispering pleas against his lips.
“Shh… It’s okay, love,” he reassures. Once he knows he has you worked up enough, Steve pushes the first digit into your pussy. The intrusion has you gasping, which turns into a whimper when he shoves another in. “Lookatcha, honey. You’re takin’ my fingers like a champ. This cunt is so tight, though. I’m really gonna have to stretch ya to fit my cock in there.”
The idea of his large cock barely fitting inside you makes your muscles involuntarily constrict against Steve’s fingers.
It takes a moment for you to adjust to the intrusion, though your walls welcome him like a familiar friend. His fingers are longer and thicker than yours, and with ease, he reaches that sweet spot most boys your age miss.
Eventually, Steve begins to fuck you on his hand. His digits slide in and out of you with ease as he picks up the pace. The skin glistens from your slick, and it’s a sight to behold. He creates a scissor motion with his two fingers every now and then, stretching you out while having you at his mercy.
It doesn’t take long for your moans to get louder while your face forms a frown of pleasure. The squelching sound of your cunt and that build-up just above your core are tell-tale signs that you’re about to come. “Oh, sir…!” you wail, and Steve picks up the pace.
“I can feel that cunt clenching on me, honey. God, you’re so beautiful this way. C’mon, make a mess on my hand. Come for me,” he rasps, rubbing his cheek against yours.
Your eyes squeeze shut when you come undone on Mr. Rogers’ hand. Your aching hole squeezes his fingers, and he makes you ride your orgasm out. Your back arches, and you let out a loud moan as pleasure shocks every nerve in your body. The lewd sounds of your cunt are noisy.
You find yourself immediately wanting more, even though you shouldn’t.
“Good girl—such a good girl for me,” Steve coos before slowly sliding his fingers out your channel. Your inner walls already miss the presence of his digits. You struggle to catch your breath, but in the midst of it all, you hear your boss pull the zipper to his pants down.
“I can’t wait to get inside of you, sweetie. I need you so badly it hurts,” he says while pressing kisses against the side of your neck. Steve climbs on top of you as he frees his aching cock from the confines of his boxers.
He grips himself by the base, his entire hand wrapped around his hardness. He gives himself a few strokes as pre-cum leaks from his slit, sliding down his bulbous head. His size is marvellous, a raging purplish-red with a thick base. Steve slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, and you flinch from the unexpected jolt of pleasure. “Fuck…” he curses.
“Are you looking, sweetie? This is such a special moment for us—I hope you remember it well,” he hums in your ear, and out of your natural obedient instinct, you lift your head to where you two are about to be connected. The sight of Steve’s cock makes you whimper. “Shit, what a good little slut.”
He drags the head of his dick through your dripping folds, and then he pushes in. The sudden stretch causes your skull to fall back against the bed. You try to close your legs, but Steve’s presence makes that impossible. He refuses to let you hide what’s his.
The older man completely sheathes himself inside your pussy. The squelching sound has you cringing in shame, but that quickly disappears when the feeling of fullness takes over. Steve’s balls touch your ass when he bottoms out, and your breathing is rapid from the sensuality of it all.
A hand wraps around your throat—though gentle, it scares you at first. Your eyes meet with Mr. Rogers’, and he looks at you with what appears to be adoration.
“You feel just like heaven,” he simply tells you. “I’m never letting you go after this—never was plannin’ on it, anyway.”
Before you can even process his words, Steve starts to fuck you. His pace is slow at first, and he hits your sweet spot with ease—a feat most boys your age are incapable of. Your moans are wanton and loud, teetering on the verge of pathetic for someone who was fighting against him at first.
“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and your reaction makes Steve smile. “You love this, don’t you? Yeah, always knew you needed a real man to fuck this cunt.”
His thrusts are a bit quicker now, and he pulls in and out of your wet pussy roughly. The sound of skin on skin is thunderous, nearly covering up the wet noises from your stickiness. His thick cock shines from your juices. Steve ruts into you like a starved man—because he is one.
His pelvic bone hits your clit every now and then, and his swollen, heavy balls are against the curve of your ass. He’s relentless in claiming you as his, sucking, biting, and licking at the skin on your neck.
“Oh my God—Steve–” you mewl, the pleasure blooming inside you almost too much to handle.
“What’s wrong, honey? Are you gonna come again?” Steve questions with faux pity. He punctuates each word with a thrust, fat cock pushing into your tightness. “What a pathetic little slut, making such a big mess on her boss’ cock. And I’m married too. You just can’t help it, can you?” he teases, and his filthy words have you squeezing his length from the filthiness. He lets a groan out from the feeling, and he keeps the fervour going.
That elastic band inside your stomach begins to tighten, and you can feel another orgasm build up quickly. “Go ahead. Make a mess on Daddy’s dick, baby,” he urges, and as if on command, you cream around his thickness.
Your back arches off the bed, but you don’t go anywhere far with Steve’s chest keeping you pressed down. Your hardened nipples rub against the cloth of his shirt, and the added friction makes your climax all the more breathtaking. The older man pounds into your cunt vigorously.
Stars appear in your vision until you come back down. Mr. Rogers doesn’t stop fucking you, forcing you to endure the overstimulation. Even with your legs shaking, he refuses to give up. “Good girl—such a good whore for Daddy,” he praises. The tip of his cock pummels against your G-spot continuously.
Your tits bounce with each push of Steve’s cock. Sometimes, he grazes your cervix, but the mild pain dulls away when he presses chaste kisses to your face and brutalizes your g-spot. “‘S too much,” you mumble, legs involuntarily trying to close. “Nu-uh—It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna fill up that pretty pussy real soon,” he says, and as if on cue, there’s a change in the way he pounds into your cunt.
His thrusts become more sloppy, but they keep the same passion and desperation that he started everything with. There’s an intensity you can’t describe because it just feels so fucking good. The hand on your neck moves and begins to caress the rest of your body. Your pulsating walls hug him, practically refusing to let go. Your skin is hot and sticky, just like his—if not more.
Wandering hands grope your body, going pliant underneath Steve. Guttural groans leave Steve’s mouth while you’re gasping endlessly. “Shit—you were made for taking this dick, sweetie. I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking down your thighs,” he promises, and the threat of it sounds terrific to your fucked-out mind.
“Be a good girl and soak Daddy’s cock one more time,” he orders. The blur between your previous climax and the one that takes you over now has your head spinning. You grasp the bedsheets from the overwhelming pleasure. A silent scream leaves your mouth, which Steve accompanies with a grunt followed by a string of curse words. “Fuck.”
You squeeze Steve’s length tightly, soaking him in your wetness. Electric shocks run down your spine and unto every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating for a split second. You’ve never come that hard—ever. It’s difficult to breathe, and Mr. Rogers is mean enough to make you take the euphoria he’s doling out.
Wetness stains the skin that surrounds where you two are filthily connected. Your ass is sticky, and some of your cream stains the trimmed hair at the base of Steve’s shaft. It’s a mess—one he intends on adding to with his semen.
His cock twitches inside your pussy, and with a final shove, he stills with his pelvis pressed against your clit. Steve’s balls clench, and he shudders as he reaches his own high. Ropes of cum spurt from the fat tip of the older man’s cock, painting your insides. The feeling makes you whimper as you’re filled to the brim with his seed.
For a few moments, Steve stays in that position, catching his breath while he recovers from his orgasm. Your eyes dance along his face, taking in the pinched yet relaxed look he dons.
Eventually, your boss resurfaces from the depths of his climax. You’re more than exhausted and have half a mind to fall asleep right then and there.
But the sound of the front door opening and closing shocks you from your stupor. Worry is written all over your features when Steve looks at you. “Aw, don’t worry, honey,” he hums, and though it may seem impossible, you can feel him get harder inside your pussy,
Whether it’s your evident fright or the thrill of getting caught, you’re not sure. Both make you dizzy.
Peggy’s notable accent slurs a call for Steve. “Think we should put on a show for her?” he jokes, grinding his cock further into your pussy.
You’re sure that no matter what you say, he won’t listen. And what will follow will be a nightmare you can’t escape.
But those thoughts ebb away when you hear your other boss curse a storm and abruptly leave, even though she hasn’t walked in on the pornographic scene that’s taking place in the guest room.
“Well, there’s always next time—if she’ll even make it,” Steve grumbles under his breath, but the words are too vague for you to dwell on them. “Think you’re up for round two, love? I wanna play with those tits while you ride my cock.”
For the nth time, your body betrays you and tells him your true desires. Either way, he still would’ve gotten what he wanted. Steve Rogers always gets what he wants.
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georgiapeach30513 · 7 months
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Your Mark On Me Masterlist
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When you need something to help you stay alert study, you found a whole lot more than you were looking for. Tatted and massive. He was what your dreams were made of, but is he a nightmare? He claimed you, and now he intends on keeping you. No matter what the cost.
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Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16
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A/N: this story is going to have themes of drug dealing and taking drugs, there will be manipulation, stalking, degradation, and so much more. This is a dark Steve that wants possession of reader. Read ALL warnings before each chapter. You are responsible for the content you consume. Minors DNI
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bossbtch1 · 4 months
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Golden Boy of America
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Summary : What if Steve Rogers wasn't the revered symbol of American virtue that everyone believed him to be? Contrary to the public perception of his kindness and charm, you've come to realize it was all a façade. Now, you find yourself in a nightmarish scenario—kidnapped and bound, questioning everything you thought you knew about the man once hailed as the golden boy of America.
Pairings : Dark!Steve Rogers x f!reader
Words : 6,9k
General tags : SMUT, 18+, NSFW
TW : dark fic, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, degradation, non-con, dirty talk, oral sex, smut, vibrator, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, rough sex, p in v, overstimulation, breeding kink, forced impregnation
A/N : This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I've been going back and forth, tweaking the story to add a darker twist. I've always felt like there's more beneath the surface of Captain America's heroic façade, he did good and sacrificed everything for the world. What if he's not as perfect as he seemed? And you had to be the one who found out about his true side, his dark side. That's the premise of this one shot, enjoy~
Before you continue, please read TW again. This is a dark!fic and explicit, strictly for readers 18+.  I don't condone any of this kind of thinking in real life, this is purely fan fiction. Please, DO NOT PROCEED if these themes disturb you. Please don't read if this content is not your cup of tea, you've been warned.
My masterlist
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The sound of a car door slamming shut is the last thing you remember before everything went black. A dull ache in your head is what you first felt when you woke up.
When you open your eyes, you find that your hands and legs are bounded by rope and tape, the coldness of the floor and walls send shivers down your spine. It takes a few seconds for you to process the situation you were in. The first thing that came into mind was where you were, who did this and why? Your memories were all a blur, you can't remember how you got into this predicament.
You hear a door open from somewhere, it echoes in the empty space, making the hairs on your arm stand up. You start to feel anxious and scared as your heart beats loudly. "Hello?" You say and the voice bounces off the walls, not knowing who was behind this.
"Good, you're awake now." A familiar voice speaks out, walking into the room. Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape.
"S-Steve? W-What's going on? Why am I here?" You ask him, fear evident in your voice. Steve doesn't answer and stares at you blankly. He's standing right in front of you. "Answer me!" You demand but he remains silent, only looking at you.
"You don't have the right to tell me what to do." He said with a dark expression. 
"What the fuck, Steve!" you said as you were tied to a chair. The ropes were tight enough to not get out of but loose enough so it doesn't hurt. "Let me go, Steve, you bastard!"
He was standing in front of you with his arms crossed and a stoic expression. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked like he was going to kill someone.
"Why should I? So, you can escape and go tell on me? Tell everyone what a bad man I am? Huh?" Steve said as he walked up to you and grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. "You know I can't let you do that."
He kept you in a small bedroom. The wallpaper was torn, revealing the rotten wood behind it. A single bed and a rickety drawer stood as the only furnishings. The window had its shutters closed, allowed no glimpse of the outside world and there was only a single light bulb illuminating the room. It gave a very eerie feeling.
"Steve, let me go." You said in a low voice.
"I can't do that." He said, running his fingers through his hair. "If I do, they will find me and put me in jail."
"Steve, they will not find you. I swear I won't tell anyone." You said as you tried to get up. But Steve came up and pushed you back to the chair.
"Stop. Fucking. Moving." He said in a menacing tone. "You're not the boss here. I am." He said.
"Do you think you can just imprison me like this?" you shouted, your voice cracking with frustration. "What you're doing is cruel and inhumane!"
A chilling smile crept across Steve's lips as he retorted, "Oh, I can, and I will. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. I have my reasons, and I won't let you ruin everything I've worked for."
Your voice trembled with shock and disbelief, "What do you mean I'm not the first? There were others before me? What happened to them? Who are you?!"
"I've always been Steve Rogers, the same person you met and fell for. As for the others, they were my mistakes, and I fixed them." Steve replied in a casual tone as if talking about the weather. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you won't have to worry about that. I won't make the same mistakes twice."
"What happened to them?" you asked, feeling the blood drain from your face.
"That's none of your concern, sweetheart. You don't need to worry about them. All you need to worry about is obeying me."
You couldn't believe that the man in front of you was the same person you'd known. "I will not obey you, Steve."
He laughed as he sat on the bed, "You’re not the Steve I know. You're fucking insane! You're no hero!" You screamed at him, "I saw you kill that man, Steve. You took his life without a shred of remorse."
He shook his head. "Y/N it was necessary. He was a criminal, and it was self-defense."
"No it wasn’t!" you raised your voice. “You had other options, you could have spared his life, but you didn't. You killed him because you're a psychopath!"
He ignored your statement and said, "I told you, you should have never followed me. You've made this very hard for yourself." He crossed his arm, "I warned you, I tried so fucking hard so you wouldn't see any of this, but you just had to follow me."
He was right, if you listened to him and didn’t follow him, you wouldn’t end up like this. You didn't know how to respond.
"How do I know you're not going to kill me next?"
"Oh, please, if I was going to kill you, I would have done it the minute I brought you here." He said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, why would I kill you when you could be so much more useful to me alive."
"Useful?"
"Yeah. I could use some help." He said as he walked closer to you.
"What kind of help?" you asked.
He smirked and licked his lips. "The fun kind."
"Steve, what are you talking about?" you asked, fearing the answer.
He leaned in closer and whispered into your ear. "I'm sure you'll be a good girl and obey."
You didn't like where this was going. "Steve, please let me go." you whispered, trying not to cry. You were scared, you were tied to a chair and no one knew where you were. You were scared of what Steve was going to do to you.
"You're begging already?" He laughed dryly. "It hasn't even been 20 minutes."
"Please." You sighed and tried to break free from the ropes. "You can't keep me here, Steve. Please"
"I can do anything I want." he whispered, his face getting closer to yours. You tried to lean back, but there was no room. You could feel his breath fanning over your face. You shut your eyes.
"You don't want to do this, Steve." You said.
"Don't I?" he asked, tilting his head. "Because it seems like I do."
"Please..." You opened your eyes, you had tears forming in them. You were scared, he could do anything he wanted to you, and there was nothing you could do about it.
"You look so pretty when you beg, you know that?" he said, his face inches from yours.
"Steve, don't do this. Please" You begged.
He ran his fingers over your cheek and wiped away the tear that was threatening to fall. "Shame that it had to be like this."
"Steve... I-I promise I won't tell anyone." you whimpered, flinching at his touch. You didn't want him to touch you.
He shook his head. "You've seen what I did."
"It was an accident. We can get out of this," you pleaded, your voice laden with desperation, seeking any flicker of empathy in his eyes.
"No. We can't. This was inevitable. Don't worry, sweetheart. You're going to love it here," Steve declared with an unsettling certainty, his tone almost comforting, as if he genuinely believed the twisted reality he was creating.
"Steve, please. You can't keep me here. If not for you, at least do it for our friendship. Please, let me go"
"This will be the last time you beg, Y/N. I will not repeat myself. You're not going anywhere. This will be your new home"
"It won't be," you insisted, defiance laced with fear.
"You'll see, in time, you'll change your mind." Steve's response echoed through the room, the unsettling assurance leaving you with a sinking feeling of dread as the realization set in that escape seemed increasingly improbable.
The room seemed to close in, the peeling wallpaper and the flickering light bulb casting eerie shadows that danced around the space, creating an atmosphere of both captivity and impending menace.
Your hand struggled against the rope as you watched him. Your eyes wide and frightened. "You see, my sweet Y/N. I've got my eye on you for quite a while. Maybe after I've had my fun with you, I'll consider letting you go. Who knows" he smiled at you, his hand caressing your lips. You felt sick.
"Don't you dare touch me" you hissed, jerking your face away from him. His eyes flashed with anger for a second before it was gone. 
"You don't have a choice" he chuckled. He took hold of your jaw and brought his face closer to yours, his lips a breath away. "I will enjoy making you scream and beg for mercy."
You felt his hands trail down your neck and down to the top of your shirt. He looked up at you before ripping your shirt open, making the buttons fly across the room. You gasped as you felt the cool air hit your skin. You were left in your bra, the thin lace fabric the only thing protecting you.
"Don't" 
"Don't what?" He grinned and pulled your bra straps down, exposing your breasts. You tried to cover yourself but you couldn't. You were still tied to the chair, and he was stronger than you.
"Please. Just stop" You felt tears roll down your cheeks.
"Oh, honey. This is just the beginning" He took one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it, making you gasp in pain. He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. You squirmed under his touch, trying to push him away, but he held onto your wrists and kept you in place.
"Stop! Please, Steve. I'm sorry!"
"No. I don't think you're sorry" he growled as he moved to your neck and bit down. He sucked on the sensitive skin, making sure he left a mark.
"Stop!" you exclaimed, trying to push him off you. He chuckled at your efforts, then next he was moving his hands down your waist and stopping at the top of your jeans.
"Now, be a good girl and stay still. Wouldn't want to ruin such pretty underwear, now would we?" he asked as he slowly pulled your pants down. Your breathing sped up and you started to squirm.
"Steve, stop, please, I'm sorry, just let me go, please" you pleaded, tears pricking your eyes. You couldn't believe that he was doing this.
"Stop with the dramatics, princess. It won't change a thing. Just sit back and enjoy, it'll feel better if you relax" he cooed, pulling your jeans down to your ankles. You felt a sob escape your throat as he looked down at you, his eyes looking hungry and lustful.
"Please, don't do this, Steve, please"
"Shh, princess, I'm going to make you feel good, okay? But, first, I gotta take these off" he murmured, reaching for your panties. Your breathing stopped, and you felt yourself shake.
"Steve" you whimpered, shaking your head. Tears were falling down your face, and Steve was wiping them away. 
"Such a pretty sight. You're gonna look so pretty covered in my marks" he whispered as he leaned down and started to suck on your neck. You let out a strangled moan as you tried to move your head away from him.
"Get off, you creep" you groaned, trying to kick him away. He didn't seem fazed and just held your hips down. He was much stronger than you, and the more you struggled, the harder his grip became.
"That's it, baby. Squirming like a little slut" he murmured, moving his hand down and under your panties. You shook your head frantically, trying to kick him away again.
"Don't touch me, please" you begged, closing your legs tightly. He looked up at you, his blue eyes darkening with lust. "Steve, get off me!"
"You know, I've seen the way you've looked at me. Like a piece of meat" He was right, you couldn’t lie, you were attracted to him ever since you first saw him. Who wasn’t attracted to him? He was kind and gentle. Even right now after you found out who he really was, you still feel attracted to him. You knew you shouldn’t be. 
“You’re disgusting!” You spat in defiance, you were in denial. 
"You say that now, but I'll have you screaming my name"
"I'll never scream your name, you pervert."
"We’ll see about that, princess.” he murmured, kissing down your stomach. You shivered as you felt his warm breath fanning over your stomach. You didn't want him this close. 
Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but why are you already wet huh?” You were shaking your head, trying to get him to stop. But it felt so good. 
Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but you sure are wet, darling. So, what is it, hm? Tell me, are you wet because you want me or is it something else?” He pushed a finger inside of you, making you gasp. He began pumping his finger in and out, his eyes never leaving yours. 
“Fuck. I've always wondered what you would feel like. So tight and warm." He continued pumping his finger in and out of you, and you tried to hold back a moan. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he was pleasuring you.
"Scream my name, princess."
"Never." You said through clenched teeth. 
"That's fine, sweetheart, I can do this all day." He smirked.
You could feel his finger moving inside of you, hitting the spot that made your legs tremble. You tried to hold back a moan, but he knew what he was doing.
"Oh fuckkk," you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.
"That's right, princess, be a good girl for me" he groaned, moving his fingers inside you. You moaned, feeling him thrust his fingers in and out. He moved his lips back to your neck, biting and sucking. He added another finger and curled his fingers inside of you.
You let out a small moan, and he smirked. "Come on, princess, you can do better than that."
He added a third finger and thrust them faster, making your hips buck. He was moving his fingers faster and faster, and you could feel yourself getting closer.
You couldn't stop the moans from escaping. Your body betrayed you.
He continued curling his fingers inside of you, and you felt a pressure building up.
"P-please, st-stop, I don't- I don't w-want" you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.
"What, princess, don't wanna have some fun?"
"No, I-I don't want th-this"
"Stop lying to yourself, princess.” He said as he kissed your cheeks. “You're so pretty like this, Y/N. All vulnerable and defenseless"
"I'm not-"
"Oh, baby, I know. But don't worry, I'll make you feel so good."
"Fuck, Steve"
"That's right, baby, moan my name. You sound so beautiful." He laughed and continued thrusting his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut as his fingers went deeper, hitting your g-spot.
"Beg me, princess. Beg me to make you come.” he said, moving his fingers faster. Your breathing sped up as he added a third finger, stretching your hole. 
"Screw you!" You refused to beg him, not giving him the satisfaction.
"You will. You'll beg me to make you come, and then you'll beg me to fuck you. You'll beg me to use your body until I've had my fill."
You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. He began rubbing your clit again, causing your legs to shake. You could feel your climax approaching, and you didn't know whether to be relieved or scared. "I can feel how close you are. Say it, princess. Beg me."
Then when you were about to cum, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You wanted to cry. "No!" You panted, trying to catch your breath.
"Not yet, princess. You know what I want, princess. Tell me." He purred, licking his fingers clean. You knew what he wanted, you still refused.
He laughed. "You're really gonna make me do this, aren't you?"
You were so confused. You didn't know what he meant. "You're gonna make me show you just how bad you need this."
He got up from the bed and walked over to the closet. He opened the doors and reached inside, pulling out a bag.
"What is that?" you asked, nervously.
He turned and looked at you. He opened the bag and pulled out a long, thin, pink vibrator. Your eyes went wide, you began to tremble. You were terrified. He was going to use that on you.
He held the vibrator up to your face and pressed a button, making it hum. You shook your head at him, "Steve No!"
He walked back over to you and crouched down in front of you. He ran his hand down your thigh, before spreading your legs, "Such a pretty pussy, princess." he murmured, tracing a finger along your folds.
He put the vibrator between your legs, pressing it against your clit.
"Fuck! Don't!" you moaned, trying to get away. He grabbed your hair and pulled you closer to him. "Oh, princess, you're gonna cum on this. Then, you're gonna cum on my cock. And, after that, you're gonna beg me for more."
You let out a sob as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel yourself getting close again. "Please, Steve."
He pressed the vibrator against your clit harder, making you moan. You didn't want him touching you there, but you couldn't stop the pleasure. "Tell me what you want, Y/N"
"Steve, I can't. I don't want it, I can't, please"
"But, you do, princess. You're already wet for me. You want this."
You shook your head, trying to get away from the vibrator. He held onto your hips, keeping you still. He leaned forward and licked your nipple. He sucked your nipple, making you arch your back.
He turned up the intensity of the vibrator, causing your hips to buck. He let go of your nipple and moved the vibrator lower, rubbing it against your entrance.
"Fuck! Stop, Steve. I-I can't. It's too much!"
"Oh, baby, this is nothing. Just wait until I start fucking you."
You were getting closer, the pleasure almost unbearable. "Steve, please. Stop. Please. I can't. I'm gonna-"
He turned up the intensity of the vibrator. "Say it. Or I'll make this last even longer. I'll keep you here all night, and the whole time, I'll be inside you."
You moaned and closed your eyes. "Please… Steve…”
He chuckled. "I like hearing you beg, princess." He turned the vibrator off and moved it back up to your clit. He slowly pushed it into your tight cunt.
"I can't…."
He smirked, "Oh, baby, we've just gotten started."
He turned the vibrator on and fucked you with it. You arched your back and moaned. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up. You let out a whimper as he kissed you, hard. He pulled away and licked your neck. "You're such a slut for me, princess. You will love it when I fuck you."
You shook your head, trying to get him to stop. "Please, Steve. Stop."
He ignored you, thrusting the vibrator deeper inside you.
You were about to cum when he suddenly pulled the vibrator out. "Steve, please, I need-"
Everytime you were close to cum, he would turn the vibrator off,  making you frustrated and horny. "I can do this all day, princess."
You couldn't take it anymore, "Please Steve! Please let me cum, I can't take it anymore, please" You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. You really needed to cum so bad, he was edging you so hard.
You hated yourself for begging him. He kept the vibrator pressed against your clit, and with his other hand, he began fucking you with his fingers again.
He grinned, "What's the magic word?"
"Please…."
"Wrong answer, princess." He chuckled and stood up. He turned the vibrator on and started walking towards you. He held the vibrator against your clit and rubbed it in slow circles. "Now, be a good girl and spread your legs."
You took a deep breath and slowly spread your legs, revealing your dripping cunt. “Good girl.” 
"Yes, oh god, Steve, please." You were moaning and panting, trying to hold off your orgasm, but he was making it impossible. "I can't hold back much longer, Steve, I'm so close. Please don’t stop." You were moaning, you didn’t care for anything, you needed to cum. 
But the moment you were about to cum, Steve stopped again, and removed the vibrator.
"Steve! No! Fuck!" You screamed, tears pricking your eyes. "What the fuck! Let me cum!"
He laughed, "So desperate. How long has it been since someone touched you like this? I can tell by your reactions that it's been a while." He turned on the vibrator again, “You will cum on my cock, now beg me to fuck you."
You were shaking, crying, "Fuck you, Steve. I'm not doing that."
He laughed, "Oh, I think you will. You're so desperate, Y/N, so close to the edge. You'll do anything to cum." He slowly undid his pants and stroking his cock in front of you. 
Your eyes widened as you stared at his length, you didn't think it was possible for a man to have such a huge cock. But, the sight of him stroking his cock was making you even wetter, and you couldn't help but want him to fuck you.
"Tell me you want me, tell me how much you want my cock."
"Steve, no. Please." You tried to close your legs, but he put the vibrator between them, spreading your lips and pushing the vibrator inside.
"If you don't, I'll just leave you here. Alone. Unsatisfied."
You were quiet, you shouldn’t want him, you should hold a little longer but he was being so good to you. It had been long since a guy made you felt like this. 
"Come on, princess. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me how much you want me inside you. Tell me how bad you want my cock." He grinned as he kissed your clit, “I’ll give you as many orgasms as you want. I’ll fuck you better than any guy you know. I’ll make sure you will never be more satisfied than being with me again."
His words sent it toward your clit, you clenched your pussy hearing him said that. You were frustrated, sobbing, you needed release, and you didn't care about anything. You were going to beg.
 You caved in, "Fine! Fuck me, Steve. Please fuck me. I need your cock, please!"
He leaned forward and kissed you. He bit down on your bottom lip, and you gasped. He chuckled, "I bet you'd let me do anything right now, wouldn't you, princess?"
He turned the vibrator back on and started fucking you with it. You were crying and moaning, begging him to let you cum. You could feel your orgasm approaching, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "Fuck, please, Steve, fuck. I'm so close, I'm gonna cum. Fuck."
"Cum for me, princess.” 
You came screaming, your whole body convulsing. You were shaking and sweating, your body aching from the pleasure.
He turned off the vibrator and pulled it out of you. He kissed your cheek, "Such a good girl. I'm so proud of you, princess."
You were panting, trying to catch your breath. "I hate you."
"You don't mean that, baby. You're just a little overwhelmed. It's okay."
You looked at him, his eyes were soft and gentle, but you knew he was crazy. You were still tied up, helpless, and completely at his mercy. He was going to use his large cock to fuck you, and you couldn't do anything to stop him.
"Don't worry, princess, I'll take care of you. I promise."
He started to untie you and you were confused. Was he letting you go? You tried to scramble to ran away from him but you didn’t get far, he wrapped his arms on your waist lifting you. “Steve! Put me down now!”
He ignored you and brought you back to the bed. He put you down and pinned you, using his body weight to keep you still. "Don't think this changes anything."
He kissed you, hard and hungry. You tried to push him away but it was useless, he was too strong. "Fuck, baby, you taste so good." He kissed down your neck, biting and sucking as he went. He stopped at your breast, taking one nipple in his mouth and the other in his hand.
"Steve, please..."
"You want me to stop, Y/N?"
"Yes!"
"Well, that's too bad. Because I'm not stopping until I'm finished with you. And you're gonna love every minute of it. You're my girl, Y/N. I'm never letting you go.” 
"No, please...don't...stop...don't hurt me, Steve."
He smirked, "I'm not going to hurt you, baby. I'm going to make you feel good."
He let go of your wrists and reached down between your legs. You gasped as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. "God, you're so wet. So wet and ready for me."
"Stop..."
"No. I'm not stopping, princess. You're going to come for me, just like you did with the vibrator. And then, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you all night long."
You tried to wiggle away from him, but it was no use. He was too strong. You tried to kick him, “Princess.” He warned, you stopped your movement, his tone made you scared. 
He then smiled, “Good girl.” 
You were trapped, at his mercy. He was going to hurt you, he was going to fuck you, and there was nothing you could do about it. You were his.
He slipped a finger inside of you, moving it in and out slowly. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're gonna feel so good on my cock."
He added a second finger, stretching you even more. He kept pumping them in and out of you, making sure to hit your g-spot every time. You could feel another orgasm building.
"Oh God...oh fuck, Steve...please..."
"Please what, baby? Do you want me to stop?"
"No...don't stop...fuck, Steve..."
"Tell me, Y/N. Tell me what you want."
"I want...I want you to fuck me."
"You're such a dirty girl, Y/N. You're gonna come for me, aren't you?"
"Yes...oh God, Steve...yes...I'm gonna cum." He fucked you faster, harder, his fingers pounding into you. You couldn't hold back anymore, you threw your head back and screamed his name as you came, your whole body shaking with pleasure.
"Fuck, that's it, baby. You’re so beautiful, princess.” He didn't stop, he kept fucking you, his fingers buried deep inside you. You couldn't believe how good it felt, you had never been fucked like this before.
He kept rubbing your clit, prolonging your orgasm. You were panting and moaning, trying to catch your breath. "That's it, princess. That's it. Just like that."
He moved down and spread your legs wide open. "Fuck, baby. You're so fucking wet."
He licked your slit, tasting your juices. You moaned as he lapped at your folds, sucking and licking like his life depended on it.
He pulled back and looked up at you, "You taste so fucking good, baby. I could eat you all day long."
"Oh, god...please, Steve..."
"Please, what, princess? You want me to fuck you?"
"Yes..."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, please, fuck me, Steve."
"Fuck, I love when you beg, princess."
His cock was rock hard, the tip leaking precum. He grabbed the base and stroked it a few times before positioning himself between your legs. He lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the tip through your folds, coating it in your wetness. "Fuck... Steve… It's not going to fit."
"It'll fit, princess. I promise." He slowly pushing inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. It hurt, but the feeling of him stretching you was incredible. He was so big and you felt so full. "God, you're so tight, Y/N. So wet. Do you like my cock, baby? Do you like the way it feels?"
"Oh god, Steve. So full." You moaned.
He started moving, thrusting into you. The pace was slow and steady, letting you get used to his size. "God, you feel so fucking good, princess. So fucking good."
It hurt at first, but the pain soon turned to pleasure. You were moaning, begging him for more. "Steve...faster..."
He grinned, "You want it faster, baby? You want me to fuck you faster?"
"Yes...please...faster..."
He quickened his pace, pounding into you. He grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.
"Fuck, yes, Steve!"
"That's it, baby. Scream my name. Scream my name as I fuck you."
"Oh, god...yes...please, Steve... harder!"
He groaned and started slamming into you, fucking you hard and fast. "Fuck, baby. You're such a slut, begging me to fuck you harder."
You were lost in pleasure, moaning and screaming his name. "That's it, baby. Tell me how good it feels, princess. Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."
"So good, Steve...it feels so good...I love you fucking me, Steve."
"Yeah, you do, don't you? You love being fucked by me huh?" He growled and pounded into you, harder and faster.
"I love it...please, Steve, more..." He felt so good inside you, you should've hating him, but all you wanted was more. You shouldn’t want him but fuck no one ever fucked you this good. "Yes, Steve, oh god, yes. Please fuck me."
"Yeah, baby, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you hard. I'll fuck you until you can't walk." He began thrusting his hips, fucking you hard and fast. He sped up his thrusts, slamming into you harder and deeper. You were lost in the pleasure, not caring about anything else. All that mattered was him and how good he made you feel.
You were so close, you could feel your orgasm building. "Steve...I'm gonna come."
"Yeah? You gonna come, baby? You gonna come on my cock?"
"Yes..."
"Yeah, you are. You're gonna come all over my cock. You're gonna come for me, baby. Come on, princess. Come for me." He then went to sucked your neck and then bit it, hard. "Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself come. Rub that fucking clit while I fuck you."
You obeyed, reaching down and rubbing your clit. It only took a few seconds before you were coming, screaming his name and digging your nails into his back.
"Fuck, yes, princess. That's it. Come for me."
You were coming down from your high and he was still pounding into you
You moaned and came, your body shaking with pleasure.
He didn't stop, he kept fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it. You were so oversensitive and it was almost too much, but you didn't want him to stop.
He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up. "Oh, God, yes, Steve!" He slammed back into you, his pace relentless. "You like that, princess? You like me fucking you?"
"Yes! Oh, God, yes! Don't stop!"
He reached around and rubbed your clit, making you moan even louder. "Come for me, princess. Come for me again. I want to hear you scream."
You were close, you could feel your orgasm building again. He pinched your clit and that was it. You came, screaming his name. He continued to fuck you, not slowing down at all.
"God, I love it when you scream, princess. Keep screaming for me."
You were barely coming down from your orgasm and he was already pushing you towards another one. You couldn't take it, it was too much. You were oversensitive and it was almost too much. He leaned forward and kissed your neck, whispering in your ear, "That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all."
"Steve, please...it's too much...it's too much..."
"Shh, princess. I know. I know. But you can take it. You can take it, can't you, baby?"
"Yes..."
"Yeah, I know. I know you can. You're my good girl, aren't you?" He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back. "Now, say it. Say you're my good girl."
"I'm your good girl." 
"Fucking right you are." He said and went to fondled your breast while he pounded into you, his pace unforgiving. His trusts became erratic, you knew he was close.
Then you remember, he didn't wear a condom and you weren’t on birth control.  "Please pull out! Don't come inside of me, please! I’m not on birth control!”
He stopped, but didn't pull out. "You're kidding, right? What's the point in fucking you if I don't come inside of that tight pussy of yours? I'm gonna fill you up, make you mine."
You started to panic. "Please, you'll get me pregnant. Please don't come inside of me."
"No, you're mine now. And I'm gonna breed you, just like you deserve. You're going to give me what I want and you're going to take it."
"Please, don't come inside of me." Your breath came in gasps, you couldn't hold back your moans anymore, even though you were crying. You tried to push him off, but he didn't let you, didn't stop fucking you.
"Please, please don't. I'll do anything you want. Please just pull out, I'll let you fuck me every morning. I'll be your good girl, please just not inside." You were sobbing now, but your cunt was dripping.
“Your body says otherwise, princess.” He picked up his pace again. Fuck, you like this, don't you? You're so wet. You want to have my babies, don't you? Fuck, yeah, you're a good girl, begging for my cum."
He felt you trying to pull away and he slapped your ass, hard. "You're not going anywhere, princess. You're going to stay here and take my cock. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you." He moaned, his thrusts were becoming more desperate, his hand left your waist and moved to your clit, rubbing hard.
You whimpered and he slapped your ass again. "Don't fight me, princess. Just let go and enjoy it. You're already mine, and now you're going to have my baby. We're going to have a family, Y/N. You're not leaving me."
You gave up, your body submitting to him. He was in complete control and there was nothing you could do. He kept fucking you, going even faster and harder. "There you go, baby. That's it. Let me take care of you."
Your pussy started to contract and you screamed, a wave of pleasure rolling through you. "Yeah, fuck. I knew you'd like this. Fuck, you're squeezing me, that's it. Take it, take it all, be a good girl and take it."
He moaned and pumped into you harder, until his hips stuttered and his cock pulsed.
"Ahhhh!" You cried as he spilled his seed inside of you, filling your insides. He groaned at the feeling of you, warm and wet, squeezing around him. He let go of your wrists and wrapped both his arms around your waist. 
When he was finished, he stayed inside of you, breathing heavily. "Fuck, that was great. Best sex I ever had."
 When he pulled out, you felt his come dripping down your leg. "We can't waste this, can we?" He thrusted his finger into you, gathering his come. You were still shaking, not able to comprehend what just happened.
He shoved his finger into your mouth. "You'll be a good girl, won't you? Now clean my fingers.”
He shoved his fingers into your mouth, you were too exhausted to do anything, just opened your mouth and let him shove his fingers down your throat.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of you and the baby." He whispered. "You'll be the perfect mom."
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"Oh, no. We're not done yet." He grabbed your face with his clean hand, and pulled you into a kiss. He pushed his tongue inside of your mouth, tasting his cum. "You're such a good girl. Now, I'll give you a reward."
He got down on his knees and pushed your legs apart, then leaned forward, licking your clit. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive skin, but quickly bit your lip, trying to keep quiet.
He looked up at you. "Don't worry, honey. I love the sounds you make. So sweet. Keep making those noises for me." He moved his tongue over your clit, slowly, teasing.
He licked and sucked at your clit, while you moaned, the sensation almost too much. "I know you're sore, honey. But I wanna hear you come on my tongue. Be a good girl and come for me, can you do that?"
"Yes."
He continued sucking your clit, and moved his hand down to your pussy, pushing his fingers inside. He moved his fingers in and out of your pussy, slowly, but it was still too much.
"Please, Steve, make me come."
"That's my good girl." He moved his fingers faster, sucking harder, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your moans were louder, your whole body felt hot.
"Steve, oh god, oh god, I'm coming."
You felt him smile against your clit, his tongue moving faster, sucking and licking. Your moans became screams, your legs were shaking, you felt the pressure building in your belly, your whole body shaking. You came hard, squirting on his face.
"You taste so sweet." He got up from his knees, his cock hard again, and pressed it against your pussy.
"Please, not again. It's too much. I-I'm too tired. I can't...I don't have any more energy." 
"I can give you energy, princess" He pushed into you, and you screamed, the feeling too intense. He pulled out and then slammed back into you, setting a brutal pace. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and moved his hips in a circular motion, the pressure in your belly building again.
You sighed, you didn't have any energy left. Steve had been non-stop ever since the day he took you, he didn't give you a single moment to rest. You were always filled with his cum. "You'll enjoy it, princess. You always do."
He started to thrust up into you, and you felt your orgasm building. "Oh, God, Steve!"
"That's it, baby, scream my name."
"Steve! Oh, God, Steve!"
You came, clenching around his cock. He groaned, and you felt him spill inside you, his hot cum filling you up. "Fuck, baby, you're so good."
He kissed you, and you could feel him getting hard inside of you again. "No, Steve, please. I can't..."
"Yes, you can, princess. I know you can."
He started to move again, and you knew you were in for a long night.
You couldn't help but moan, you could feel his thick length filling you up. His cum was still inside of you and it was a warm feeling. You were so tired and he could tell, "One more time, princess, and I'll let you sleep."
He was so big, and he hit all the right spots. You couldn't help but moan, it felt so good.
You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his cum, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.
You moaned as he thrust deeper into you. He was so big and it felt so good. You were lost in the pleasure, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered was him and the way he made you feel.
"Say you want me to come inside of you."
"I want you to come inside of me, Steve."
“Beg me.”
“Please, Steve. I want your cum. Please fill me up.”
"Good girl." He kept his rhythm, the feeling of his cock inside of you was too much, but it was so good.
"Come for me, be a good girl and come for me."
Your body was shaking, you felt his cock throb and fill you up again, and then you were coming, your legs trembling, your moans loud.
"Fuck, yeah. You're such a good girl, so sweet, coming for me. So tight, fuck. Such a good girl."
His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you. He held himself above you, watching your face, while he fucked you. His cock was still inside of you, twitching, the feeling so intense.
"And don't you forget it. You're mine, and no one else is gonna fuck you. Cause you're mine, and I'm gonna keep you pregnant, giving me all the babies I want."
You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his mark and seed, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.
You didn't have a choice, he wouldn't let you go. He'd fuck you every day, until he had knocked you up. You didn't even want a baby, and he didn't care. He'd do whatever he wanted. You had no choice but to obey him. But he made you feel so good and gentle with you, you couldn't help but enjoy it.
You had given up, the police weren't going to find you. No one was. You were his prisoner, his plaything. And he was going to keep you forever.
But, in a twisted way, you didn't mind. Because he was always there for you, taking care of you, fucking you, loving you. You had never felt this way about anyone before. And deep down, you knew you were falling in love with him.
"I love you, Y/N. And I'm gonna take care of you, and our baby. Forever."
"I love you, too, Steve."
FIN
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A/N : So what do you guys think? Let me know in the comments, I want to know about your thoughts! 
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571 notes · View notes
biteofcherry · 5 months
Text
To find the light, we must first touch the darkness
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Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤
dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader
summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.
warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; ex-pli-cit; knife kink; choking; choking kink; praise;
word count: 7k
Touch the Darkness Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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Chapter 6. Downpour
~ * ~
Victims often described the events of their traumatic experience as a blur. Or a film montage of chopped scenes, often black and white, or with one color prevailing. Sometimes their minds protected themselves so strongly they dissociated, their consciousness floating away into a safe space.
Nothing of the sort happened to you on your dreaded wedding day. 
If anything, you felt more present in the moment than in the days leading to it. 
Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid. 
You felt the constriction of the built-in corset of your wedding dress, the soft swish of the embroidered, shiny tulle in the chalice of the wide skirt; as well the warm amazement at how beautiful you looked. 
Even though your spite tempted you to pick a dress that would manifest how much you didn’t want to say your vows, you couldn’t help the flaming love you experienced at the sight of yourself in a stunning wedding dress. 
A fucking princess style, out of all. 
You wanted to hate it, to cross it out purely to not give Steve the extra satisfaction, but your parents teared up when they saw you in it. Maybe they had some qualms about the speedy wedding, but they sure got on board with it when they saw your face glowing. 
You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because you felt beautiful, not because you loved your future husband. 
Whose handsome face you couldn’t look away from as your father walked you down the aisle. 
Dressed in a sharp suit, steel gray a tone warmer than his cold heart, Steve watched you every step of your way to him. Others perhaps saw in his face awe, getting all mushy over how much he had to be in love with you, but you knew it was a glint of triumph. 
You said your vows in the wide garden surrounding Steve’s property, under an arch of lush peonies and vines. You were sure it’s only thanks to the two glasses of Prosecco and Steve’s hand holding yours a tad too tightly, that you recited your promise to him without a hitch. 
With how smooth and soft Steve’s voice was, how he held your gaze captive, you’d think he was expressing true, deep feelings when he said his vows. 
True was his possessiveness. 
Steve displayed it first in the way he kissed you - draping you over his arm, like in old Hollywood movies, and branding your lips with a breathstealing, passionate kiss. Unable to resist, your arm sneaked around his neck, fingers splaying on the back of his head, while your other hand gripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket. 
Then by keeping you occupied each dance, allowing only your father to lead you through two songs. 
To your further annoyance, Steve turned out to be a really good dancer. Or maybe he was simply good at holding you and controlling your body as he guided you across the wooden planks built into a dance floor specially for this occasion. 
“You look beautiful, Princess.” 
There was no breathtaking awe in Steve’s voice, like you used to imagine your true love would say those words one day. But it was no coy game, either. Steve meant them, it was an honest compliment. 
It was also his pride in owning you. 
“I’m already your wife, all is signed. No need for bullshit,” you stared over Steve’s shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze and see what desires may shine in the ice cold blue irises. 
He twirled you suddenly, then pulled you back to him. Kept you pressed against him tighter as he brushed his lips along your cheek. 
“I’d think by now you know I don’t really bullshit anyone,” he whispered in your ear. “I do find you stunning. And I’ll repeat those words later, when I have you naked in our bedroom.”
Heat filled you faster than after that shot you sneaked right before soup was served, to calm your nerves and numb yourself further as the reality of being now Mrs Rogers started settling in. No, that fast dose of booze didn’t scorch your insides the way Steve’s promise of the wedding night did. 
“Not gonna happen,” you tried sounding fierce, but your voice came much breathier than you’d like. 
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Steve chuckled, tip of his tongue flicking the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps to appear all over your skin. 
His hand on your back was placed low, but he dipped his fingers even further, toying with the ribbon of your corset right above the curve of your ass. 
“We have a deal, after all.” He reminded you. 
You wanted to argue with him, that technically you didn’t agree to it, but you knew it’s futile. You suffered some disturbing sexual deviancy and your pussy tingled at the mere thought of Steve touching it. So you planned on simply being sneaky and wiping yourself dry before entering the bedroom. And then staying resolved and unbothered, so that Steve’s dark touch didn’t force a single drop of slick out. 
You considered stuffing your nose with something too, because the scent of Steve alone now that he was pressed to you so close, was enough to warm up your body. 
To ignore your own responses - to his smell, to his touch, to the images of wicked acts he could do to you - you focused your gaze above Steve’s shoulder. Glancing at random guests, at the stunning flower arrangements, trying not to hurt from the fact your parents looked so joyous. 
You frowned, noticing Natalie smirking around the rim of a champagne flute as she talked to a man whom you recognized as Steve’s most trusted right hand, Bucky. While flirting at a wedding wasn’t something unusual, alarm bells rang in your head at the prospect of Natalie endangering herself. She was already at risk, being associated with you, but to dance with a wolf was like playing with fire that was surely going to consume her whole. 
You didn’t know much about Bucky, practically nothing, but if he was this close to Steve then there was no trace of innocence or clear conscience in him. 
No one could stay pure, if they followed in Rogers’ murky wake. A realization which made you wonder, if your own core may rot and dissolve at his feet. 
Your heart fluttered, as Steve twirled your body again. Chalice of your dress opened, shimmering in the sunlight as if encrusted in crushed diamonds. In reality it was a faint sparkle compared to the actual bling of the diamond ring on your finger. 
You glared at it with disdain when Steve first put it on your finger, seeing nothing but a leash. A brand of ownership and reminder of torment. But the more glances you stole, the more irresistible it was to admire. 
It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it. 
Steve pulled you back to his body, pressing you even closer than before. Tip of his nose grazed along yours, the icy blue of his irises warming into the shade of pure sky. His breath tickled your mouth, mingling with yours as your lips parted on a gasp. 
Then his lips were on you. Soft and coaxing, tempting you to respond in submission. 
You told yourself it’s the surprise of it that made you give in, the spectacle you had to continue for the guests, but you couldn’t completely deny the jolt of excitement that spurred heat into every crevice of your body, then melted it into a pliant surrender. 
You were vaguely aware of the camera flashes as pictures of you were taken. The sound of cheering and clapping barely registering through the haze of your heartbeat pounding in your head. 
There was no triumphant smirk on Steve’s lips when he reluctantly pulled away, which would undoubtedly shake you out of daze. Instead, there was a dark hunger that clenched your heart in fear and your cunt in anticipation. 
You found yourself surprisingly reluctant to step out of his embrace as the song ended and Steve took the opportunity to build the lie further by asking your mother to dance.
Trying to avoid dancing with Steve wasn’t as clever a solution as you first thought, because the bastard found other ways to instigate small gestures of intimacy that confused your brain and tickled your clit like a living tongue. 
Like him smoothly commenting how delicious that seasoned rib was and how you should try it, then promptly feeding you a piece of it.
With his fingers. 
Purposely slipping his fingertip between your lips along with the meat.
It was a split of a second, but enough to have a wave of heat wash over you and your thighs clench.
You thanked heaven that you picked a princess dress, because the layers of the skirt at least hid the movement that would otherwise betray you.
A gulp of wine couldn’t wash away the sensation, nor did it wipe the lewd image of Steve forcing his fingers into your mouth. Would they be salty? Would they feel heavy as he pressed them against your tongue? Would his rings feel cool? 
Then you didn’t even have alcohol to numb yourself. Steve made sure your glass was filled with water only as the celebrations proceeded. When you glared at him, trying to yank your hand out of his grip, he said he won’t have you sloshed on your wedding night.
“Don’t want you to worry it was only the booze that got you wet,” he sucked on your earlobe. 
But made it look so sweet, the way he pressed his cheek to yours and gently held your hand, that to the others it had to look as if he was whispering love admissions into your ear. 
The bastard played supportive and soothing as he caressed your back when you were saying goodbye to the guests leaving the reception late in the evening. Your mom took your teary eyes as an overwhelming, but positive emotion that made her all mushy as well. 
You couldn’t cling to her, or your dad, crying in despair that they were leaving you with a monster. Not when that monster was constantly by your side, being most respectful and charming towards them. Displaying a twisted care for you that eased your parents’ worries while irritating you. 
There were fireworks bursting in the sky in abundant splashes of color as Steve led you to the master bedroom. 
Everyone was gone, only the wedding planner’s team was rushing around like busy bees, cleaning up and packing leftovers. And they all pretended they didn’t see you. You thought some of Steve’s men were also circling around, but you didn’t know yet if it was to keep an eye on the workers, or if it was their routine to guard Steve’s mansion. 
Once inside the bedroom, you blurted out your need to use the bathroom and promptly locked yourself inside. Only for a few moments you entertained the thought of staying in and sleeping on the tiled floor, but you knew Steve wouldn’t allow that. He’d sooner take the damn door down than give you reprieve.
He wanted to wreck your body too much. 
And you feared how you may react to it. 
As you pulled up layers and layers of tulle, to use the toilet and clean yourself from the already obvious reaction to Steve’s touch; you accepted that your anxiety wasn’t for debauchery, but for the inappropriate eagerness of your body.
For fuck’s sake, you were dripping and coming on command when he defiled you with a gun!
How much stronger was your reaction going to be when he caressed you with his hands and mouth? 
After wiping yourself dry, you cleaned your hands and with your head held high stepped out into the bedroom. You still planned on fighting tooth and nail to not arouse from whatever he had planned. 
Having taken off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Steve waited for you in the middle of the room. His eyes glinted with satisfaction when you stepped out. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him. 
“I knew you’d come out like a good girl, Princess,” he crooned, not at all bothered by your stomping and glaring daggers his way. 
“Didn’t feel like watching a door being splintered into pieces,” you snapped, clenching your hands on the skirt of your dress as you stood right in front of Steve.
“Of course. That’s the only splintering you were concerned about,” he teased, running a single digit down the column of your neck. “But I know, Princess. I know there’s this curiosity that draws you to me. You may hate it, but your body is eager to learn what I’ll do to you.”
“It’s not. I’m not!” You protested, yet you didn’t flinch when his finger drew a scorching line from one collar bone to the other, then dipped lower to trace your cleavage. 
“I want to believe your words, Princess,” Steve said in pretend seriousness, “but let’s check in with your body, too.”
As embarrassing the thought of him flipping your skirts up was, you inwardly prayed he’d do it quickly. If he touched your pussy now, he’d find you dry. But if he prolonged the whole thing, you had no certainty it would stay this way. 
“I’m aware how fond of my gun you are,” his words startled you, stopping your heart for a split of a second then sending it into a fluttery beat. The memory of the warm muzzle dragging along your thigh and slipping under your panties spurred heat to pool low in your core. 
Shit! No! 
No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet! 
“But I didn’t think it’s an accessory appropriate for the wedding,” Steve’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile that only added to his criminally hot look. 
“So I had something special to be custom made for this occasion-” he touched your cheek in a sweet caress- “and for any future occasions… with my wife.”
Your breath hitched in your lungs when he called you his wife. He made it sound reverent, but at the same time his tone dripped with that dark triumph that reminded you there was no way out from his clutches. 
You watched Steve dip his hand into his pocket and then a glint of steel flashed before your eyes. 
A switchblade so sharp and polished so smooth that it seemed to be honed out of pure light. The handle was a shimmery white, with undertones of rainbow. Mother of pearl, you realized. 
Steve had his fingers wrapped around it, but purposely flipped it out, pinching the hilt between two of his fingers so you could see the silver initials engraved on it. Your initials, but with your last name being Rogers. 
Eyes widening, you went still as Steve brought the blade to your skin. Just the tip of it, you barely felt its touch, but your mind was already running with images of cuts and drawn blood. It should scare you, cause tears to fall out. Instead, you felt your pulse thundering in places that shouldn’t react to fear with excitement. 
Steve drew a soft line over the curve of your breasts and dipped the steel into the valley between them. 
He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the front of your neck. His eyes heated up as your pupils widened in reaction, once again proving how weak you were for this single gesture. Keeping his hold firm enough you felt the silver of his rings pressing into your skin, Steve traced the blade along the trim of your wedding dress and then down your ribcage.     
“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Steve’s voice was deceivingly soft, as if he really cared if you were scared. 
You doubted he’d stop, even if you claimed that you are. You’d sooner expect him to mock you and then proceed to torment your body, proving to you how much you craved his depravity. 
But it wasn’t the physical torture you wanted to avoid. For how bad Steve was, how he fucked up your life, somehow you knew he wouldn’t harm you physically. Well, perhaps if you betrayed him. He’d kill you then. But as long as you followed his plans, you were certain he wouldn’t raise his hand on you.
Steve’s thumb brushed along your jaw in a seemingly soothing caress. You turned your face to the side, but he forced you to look back at him when you admitted in a defeated whisper: 
“I’m afraid you will make me like it.”
Fingers still curled around the front of your neck, Steve inched closer. Blue of his irises seemed to glitter an impossible hue up this close, mesmerizing you. 
You were a prey fully ensnared. 
“I will, Princess.” Steve’s lips teased yours. “I will give you pleasure that hurts so good.”
A tiny whimper escaped your mouth. You wished it was a sound of trepidation, but it held an unmistakable undertone of need. It was too late now, you felt a wet spot forming on your white undergarments. 
Steve kissed you softly, reverently; like a husband in love might kiss his beloved wife on their wedding night. Combined with the pressure of a sharp blade at your side, it made your head spin. 
“Stay still, please,” Steve squeezed your throat lightly, before releasing you and taking a step back. 
He walked around you, slowly making a full circle as he admired you. Teasing you by making you wait for what he does next. When he stopped behind you and you felt the puff of his breath on your nape, your fingers trembled. 
Then the cool blade pressed where Steve’s warm breath tickled you a second ago. He drew a sharper line down the middle of your back. You didn’t feel the sting of a cut, but he put enough pressure for you to feel a tingling scratch that dispersed into pleasant burning. 
You gulped when you felt him hook the knife under the lacing of your dress.
“I can just take it off.” You grumbled, frowning. It was a stunning dress and even though you wouldn’t be wearing it ever again, you weren’t happy with the idea of it being cut to pieces.
“You could,” Steve chuckled, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you-”
You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.
“-make that lovely sound.” 
Steve relished in each cut, though you weren’t sure if he was more entranced with your little noises (which you tried to suppress, but failed at times), the act of cutting itself, or with your naked skin being revealed as the bodice of your dress parted. 
When the corset opened fully, dropping and exposing your upper body, Steve smoothed his hand along your back. Which elicited another gasp from you. 
You expected the blade to return, to draw dangerous patterns on your fragile skin. Steve’s warm, gentle caress sent a different kind of jolt down your spine, causing your tense muscles to relax in foolish trust. He pressed himself to your back, moving his hand around your front and boldly cupping your breast. A wave of heat seemed to scorch your face from the inside, but it also pooled between your thighs. 
He peppered kisses along your neck as he played with your breast; sucked on your skin as he switched his attention to the other tit. 
There was no logical thought in your head when he pinched your nipple hard and you arched; one of your arms flying up to grip the back of Steve’s head. It was an instinctive reaction of your body’s deepest need. 
Suddenly, Steve’s touch left you. Only to pull impatiently at your dress, forcing the abundant skirt to fall down. Big hands - one still holding a knife - clenched around your hips. He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed close to nothing. 
Then he was dropping you onto the grand bed. Before you even managed to push yourself up, he flipped you over onto your back. A split of a panicked thought almost had you inching away, reheating the idea to fight him. But one of Steve’s hands clenched on your ankle, while the other splayed on your belly - the one holding the knife. 
“Lie back, Princess.” Steve’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it chimed with certain urgency. 
You stilled. Though you preferred to think it was because of the blade he left on your belly in a warning, not because he asked you to. 
Definitely not because you couldn’t look away from him as Steve undressed in a few quick, practiced moves. 
The sight was so enticing you didn’t think of grabbing the knife and possibly changing the flow of the night to your advantage. 
Without his shirt on, you saw the wide plains of Steve’s chest and chiseled abdomen; saw the tattoos entwining his arms and upper body. Dark patterns, with a few splashes of rich color, that only added to the dark, thrilling aura of Steve Rogers. 
You swore that while Steve was a scary motherfucker in his usual wear, he’d appear an even more lethal demon if he approached his victims half-naked. 
Your gaze shifted downward when he pushed his pants down, but you forced it back up to his face. Mostly because you feared the sound you may make, if you saw his cock. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you staring. 
When Steve knelt on the mattress and then crawled forward, you dropped your head to the pillows and focused on the ceiling. A part of you craved to watch him, to await in trepidation, but you still held onto that sane part of your brain that told you it’s wrong to want it. Wrong to give in to him so easily. 
“You’re beautiful, Princess.” He repeated the words, just like he promised.
Calloused fingers traced up your legs. The sensation this touch evoked made you want to clench your thighs, but Steve’s knee was wedged between your legs, preventing it. 
Eyes focused on your face, Steve seemed to study and memorize every spark of reaction to his touch. He picked up the knife again. The grin that he flashed you as he brought the blade to your skin was all satisfaction and condescending praise. He didn’t say it, but you almost heard the Good girl. For doing as he told you. For waiting. For being so obviously responsive. 
He knelt above you as he trailed the knife along your exposed body. His gaze shifted between the glint of the blade and your face. As his aim traveled south, Steve moved along with it. 
Corner of his mouth tugged upward in a dangerous smirk when he slipped the tip of the blade under the white lace of your panties. 
Your whole body went rigid. Your mouth opened, your breath becoming ragged. 
And yet, when he slashed the fabric apart, you felt a new gush of slick. 
Steve cut the other side of your panties as well, then pushed your thighs further apart. Exposing your shameful reaction. 
“Princess,” he licked his lips, “it appears that you’re wet.” 
He tapped the wide side of the blade against your clit, the jolt of it making you clench around nothing. Steve’s eyes darkened and a low, growling kind of sound rumbled in his chest as he used the knife to flick away the lace that was sticking to your drenched folds. 
“You’re not wet. You’re dripping.” He seemed to be in awe of the discovery. 
It was in a sense a comforting feeling, to see more than just a cocky triumph. To see Steve affected by the situation. Perhaps not as strongly as you were, but with enough force to make you think perhaps it was a novelty for him as well. 
“Say it, Princess.” Steve’s gaze flicked back to your face; his own eyes full of dark hunger. “Say how wet you are, for me.”
Your lips clenched shut, a stubborn frown drawing your eyebrows together. It was humiliating enough that you were so lewdly on display for this bastard, that your body betrayed you and was ready to take him. Admitting it aloud would only strip you of all defenses. 
When Steve slapped your inner thigh, the sting of it seemed to zing directly to your clit. 
“Ohh!” You couldn’t suppress the gasp, but then managed to spat angrily - “Fuck, fine! I’m wet for you, you bastard.”
As much as you hated it, your anger was less about him demanding your admission and more about him not touching you where you most needed it. 
“Your husband.” Steve reminded you, with sinister glee. 
With his knee, he pressed your other leg down. Then dragged the knife along the skin of your inner thigh. This time you felt the prick of pain as he cut the tissue. You hissed, head lifting up to stare at the tiny, thin wound. A single drop of blood pearled at the end of it. 
Then Steve’s mouth was on it. Warm and sucking, and drawing a surprised moan out of you. 
He sucked and licked it clean, making you forget about everything else. His mouth moved up, closer and closer to your core. When he finally licked into your folds as if he was biting into a ripe fruit, you dropped down with a cry. 
Fingers gripping the sheets tightly, you rode sensations unknown to you until then. Muscles strained in pain as you held yourself stiff, still sensing that blade pressed against your skin. Steve had his arms wrapped under and around your thighs, keeping you spread as he feasted on your pussy. One of his hands was holding the knife against your abdomen, the sharp tip right on your mound. 
“Oh God, please!” Your eyes clenched shut. “Please, please, Steve. I-”
As he lapped at your clit, lashing it with rapid flicks then sucking on it so sweetly, you felt your orgasm building painfully high. You were heartbeats away from climaxing.
“Stop, please!” You begged. “The knife- I can’t- I need-” 
Even if you were pleading for him to stop what he was doing all together, Steve wouldn’t listen. Not when he was so close to owning you completely. You needed something slightly different and you hoped Steve would recognize the urgency.
Mercifully, he paused. Though he held his lips close to your clit as he looked up at you from between your thighs - his eyes reminiscing of the stars frozen in dark waters of the northern lakes. 
“What do you need from your knife, Princess?” He asked, tilting the blade an inch lower. 
It almost touched your clit. 
“Place it away, please,” you started explaining, sensing that he wouldn’t comply without a satisfying reason. “I- I’m about to come. And I will, um, move. I can’t stay still. I just, I never could. I can’t.” 
“You’re afraid I’d cut you, if you get all squirmy and arching?” Twinkle of amusement lit up Steve’s eyes.
“Please, Steve.” You feared tearing up, if he refused you. You also feared he would make you cum and cut you, and that you weren’t ready for that combination of pain and pleasure. 
He hummed, holding your gaze as he licked your clit again. Your muscles tensed anew, he had to feel them straining in your thighs where he held you. Then, very slowly, he untangled himself from you. Steve let your thighs drop to the mattress freely. He lifted the hand holding the knife and you sagged in relief. 
Steve leaned over you, bracing his weight on one arm. His broad frame cast a shadow over you. He brought the blade up to your face, you could see a fragment of your reflection in it. 
“Kiss it.” Steve ordered. 
You stared at him, bewildered. He waited, surprisingly patiently, holding the blade inches from your mouth. He called this knife yours. Had it custom made for you. Used it on you in ways you never imagined in a sexual encounter. Teased what more he could do. What he probably would do to you in the future. And he wanted you to kiss it as if in gratitude for all the lewd things it would unleash on you. 
Swallowing nervously, you lifted your head enough to press your lips against the steel. 
“Good girl,” he praised. 
Your gaze followed Steve’s arm as he reached toward the nightstand to place the knife on it. Then his hand swiped along your arm, caressing muscles that strained from still gripping the sheets. 
He coaxed you back into the moment with a sensual kiss. The way his tongue dipped between your lips was soft and seductive. You’d never expect someone like Steve to be able to kiss like that. 
Heat quickly returned in pulsing beats to your clit as Steve kissed down your body. He settled back between your thighs, with a moan tasting your pussy once more. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked you back to that edge. Then pushed you over it as he pushed a finger into you. 
Steve kept that finger pumping steadily into your fluttering walls as he trailed wet bites up your body. He was hovering above you. Mouth, glistening with your arousal, was a lick away from you when he thrust a second digit inside. The stretch made you keen and Steve drank up every grimace you made. 
“Touch me, Princess,” he tempted you, curling his fingers just right. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.” 
If your brain wasn’t a post-orgasmic mush, maybe you could muster some stubborn will to do the opposite. But he was right, you itched to touch him, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath your fingertips, to see how hot he ran. 
Hesitantly at first, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders. Your gaze found one of the intricate vines that weaved along his shoulder and up his neck, a branch sprouting from it curved down and over his pectoral. You traced it with one hand, your other instinctively moving to Steve’s back. 
When you traced the contoured muscles of his abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly at the narrow path of coarse hair leading southwards, Steve increased the pace of his fingers. It stirred the fire in your core into a burst, evoking another moan. 
“Lower.” Steve gritted out, putting more of his weight and heat onto you. “Wrap that small hand of yours around my cock, Princess.” 
It was dirty - his words and the squelching sound of your pussy as he fingerfucked you. 
But it also made you drop your gaze between your bodies, searching for a glimpse of that dick. It swayed heavy, half-hard, right above your hip. Your walls clenched unexpectedly as you watched it. 
This wasn’t the first cock you saw in your life. You were far from a blushing virgin. There was something about Steve, however, that made you feel nervous and out of your depth. It appeared that sex with him was a whole new, scary discovery. 
Steve urged you with another command and your hand slipped down instantly. Hot, pulsing flesh in your palm, twitching and hardening as you curled your fingers around the quite impressive girth. 
It would stretch you so deliciously. Steve didn’t need to voice it for your imagination to ignite with the phantom sensation. 
You tightened your hold, swiping your thumb over the widened, red head. At Steve’s deep moan, your eyes flew up to his face, watching his pleasure in wonder. He didn’t hide it from you, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t affected. Still, you felt yourself more at his mercy than he was at yours. Especially when you sensed that small kick of elation at giving him pleasure with your touch. 
You smeared the beads of precum down his shaft and started stroking. It was a mismatched rhythm, your focus faltering every time Steve drove his crooked fingers against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you. 
When Steve sat back on his haunches, you stopped your movement. A rush of heat filled you with sudden shyness as his gaze roamed over your splayed body. 
Skin dewy, breasts heaving with quickened breath, legs spread wide. Your hand was still around his cock, your ring and wedding band catching sparks of light. Steve’s own fingers were buried deep in your cunt, your slick glistened on his palm and wrist. 
Steve moved his other hand up your body, marveling at your curves and softness. He gave your breast a playful squeeze before trading his fingers further up. Fingers encircled the front of your neck in a familiar way. 
“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.” 
Then he was withdrawing his fingers from your heat; milky slick sticking in a web between his digits. He knocked your hand away and spread your wetness all over his cock. 
He held your gaze as he dragged his dick between your puffed folds and into your hole. A pause for you to catch your breath, then he was thrusting in one fluid, firm stroke. 
A curse bubbled on your lips, stretching into a moan as he split you. Unable to reach him at the moment, your hands fisted the shits, gripping and twisting the fabric. Nipples stiffened into hard peaks, your chest arched upward at the same time as your head bowed back. 
There was no second to adjust, no mercy. Steve pounded into you roughly, setting a steady tempo. He watched your body move along the mattress, at least as much as his hold on your throat and your hip allowed. Your breasts swayed with each thrust, your thighs shook with each slap of his hips into you. 
He watched your eyes glaze over as an orgasmic haze crept over you anew. Your pretty mouth stayed open, letting out all the sweet noises. It took barely a few of his thrusts and you were cumming again. 
Everything was still spinning in your head when Steve yanked your hips more upwards. Your buttocks rested on his thighs, legs thrown over his hips as he fucked into you. Grip on your throat tightened more and more. Your eyes flew open, one of your hands grabbing onto Steve’s wrist. Unbothered, he kept choking you lightly. At the same time, his other hand sneaked across your abdomen. 
With your airflow limited, every sensation seemed to heighten impossibly. The stretch of his cock, the pressure of his hand on your lower belly. The coil tightened and tightened, and when Steve swiped his thumb over your engorged clit, you shattered with a soundless scream. 
Steve released your throat and the gulps of air you instinctively tok between raw cries seemed to prolong your orgasm. It twisted into a craze that felt agonizingly good. 
So good it caused you to cry, salty streaks dripping out of the corners of your eyes and down your temples. 
Through the thunderous buzz of blood pounding in your head, the muffled sound of Steve’s voice reached you. Your brain was unable to function enough to recognize it, but it sounded like your name. And something akin to ‘Atta girl. 
When Steve shifted, you welcomed his warm heaviness like a comforting blanket, mapping his sweaty back with your hands. He was still moving, speeding up, as he braced both of his forearms on the mattress. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips starved as he kissed and nipped. 
He rested his forehead against yours as he came with a loud moan. Warmth of his spend filled you and though you didn’t think of it now, later you would be thankful for the little contraceptive implant you had. As the fog of pleasure held you in its grip, you didn’t care for the consequences. Not when Steve was still rocking slightly into you, his cock twitching. 
You sighed, scrunching up your nose, when Steve pulled out a while later. Your pussy throbbed in protest, or maybe it was from the ache that was starting to make itself known. You leaked, too, which would make you really embarrassed if you weren’t too boneless to care. 
You managed to wipe at your temples and cheeks, where remnants of tears still wetted your skin, before Steve was touching you again. He flipped you onto your belly then licked a line up your spine with a broad stroke of his tongue. 
“Aren’t you done?” You huffed, fearing you may not be able to survive more. 
“Far from it,” Steve laughed and playfully slapped your ass. 
You were thankful that he spent quite some time just kissing and touching your back, your ass and your thighs. Whether he was giving himself enough time to get hard again, or if he was this dedicated to learning your body. 
When he sat on your thighs, his knees braced on the outside of your closed legs, and squeezed your asscheeks, you expected him to play there more. Instead, you felt him spread you enough to expose your pussy. He slid inside slowly, but it still took you by surprise.    
Steve laid on top of you, balancing his weight on his arms as he pulled back and thrust back in. The angle unraveled a completely new type of sensation.
“Oh my- fuuuck!” You couldn’t help the unladylike, high pitched squeal. 
Nails scratching at the sheets helplessly, you spluttered mewls as Steve purposely rocked his hips back and forth. 
“Awww,” he cooed, “is that the spot, Princess?” 
Then he pulled back and slammed back in. Each thrust grazed that ultrasensitive area; each time he sunk deeper and deeper, too. 
If you were moaning and crying when he fucked you the first time, these sounds were a symphony of pitiful and needy that surpassed others. At one point your mouth just hung open, saliva seeping out of the corner and staining the mattress. 
Your toes curled and you helplessly kicked your feet up and down, unable to shift in your position to ease the increasing, maddening pleasure. With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your gaze mindlessly focused on the ring on your finger where your hand rested beside your head. 
Steve’s fingers entered your vision, brushing along your hand and intertwining with your fingers. A mockery of softness in the ruthless way he was fucking you. 
Your cunt tightened around him, producing more slick the longer he railed that tormenting spot. The sound of him fucking you turned more and more squelching. 
“I want you to soak the sheets,” Steve grunted. When you made a noise of protest, he paused to force your legs wide apart with his feet. “Come on, Princess. Make a mess.”
And you did. 
Hiding your face in the bedding didn’t suppress the string of cries as you climaxed, squirting a small pool of release. 
Steve fucked you through it. Each of his hard thrusts ripping your whimpers into a choked single vowel as you went lax beneath him. 
“Fuck, Princess.”  He groaned, feeling your wetness drip down his balls. “I would wife you up for that alone. You really-” his hips snapped harder and faster- “are. Fucking. Perfect.” 
Your fingers remained intertwined, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, as he came. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was buried inside of you, or maybe this time his orgasm was much stronger, but you felt every throb and every spurt more clearly than before. Felt yourself full with his cum and dripping excess of your combined spend. 
Long, long minutes later, when Steve pulled out and dropped next to you onto the mattress, you didn’t even blame him for not having enough power (or decency) to get you a wet cloth. 
Honestly, you didn’t have any strength to get up either. 
It was later, as you resigned yourself to falling asleep in the mess that you made, that you heard the sound of a drawer being open. Then a soft, wet wipe was pressed to your inner thigh. It was a surprise. Felt a little weird, too. But you rested quietly as Steve wiped you and himself clean, tossing used tissues into the bin hidden behind the nightstand.
When he laid back down on the unsoiled side of the bed and reached for you, you glared at him. 
Yes, he fucked your brains out. You seriously doubted there were any functioning brain cells left. Yes, you were officially married. Still, it didn’t mean you were going to play a docile wife in every aspect of this torment. 
“You want to sleep on the stained sheets?” Steve arched a single eyebrow. “Swallow your stubbornness and scoot here, Princess.” 
It was voiced as if he was giving you an option, but he didn’t wait for your decision. Astonishingly easily, he sneaked a hand under one of your thighs and simply lifted you enough to relocate you. 
Nestled to Steve’s side, with one leg hiked over his thigh, you willed yourself to stay awake long enough to sneak out when Steve dozed off. Unfortunately for you, your will was too fucked out. 
You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.
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whereireid · 11 months
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𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | masterlist
pairing: senator!steve rogers x fem!reader
⍟ — nsfw content ahead. soft!dom steve. married life. housewife kink. oral [f receiving]. degradation of reader.
Summary: Your husband, Senator Steve Rogers, has been acting strange recently. He makes it up to you after he catches you snooping.
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You don’t want to snoop on your husband.
Honest, you don’t.
Sometimes, though, duty calls. It feels like a crime to be in Steve’s office, perched at his desk, attempting to hack into his computer.
You’ve tried three different passwords, now. The first, the name of your daughter, and her date of birth — BeauRogers2012. The second, your anniversary — 19October2007. And, finally, the name of the family dog — CooperRogers.
Nothing. There’s nothing. All to no avail, the screen lighting a shade of red with each incorrect guess, your lips tugging down into a frown as you try to pinpoint exactly what his password could be.
If it’s not Beau, and it’s not you, and it’s not the family dog… then what is it?
Your eyes scan his office, desperate for a moment of realisation. You want something to click, your eyes dragging from a photograph of him and Bucky, to the miniature American flag which sits on his desk.
That’s it.
107thInfantryRegiment.
The computer lets you in. Steve’s desktop background is a photograph of you, him and Beau — baby Beau, curled in her daddy’s arms, asleep, in a pumpkin patch.
You pause. You feel bad, snooping, hesitating as you stare at the pixelated desktop background.
You feel awful, but you have to know what he’s getting up to.
Your lips press together as you swallow away the tightness in your throat, dragging the mouse towards his emails. Before you press down, you hesitate — Steve has never given you a reason not to trust him.
Yet, you’re in, now. You might as well look whilst you’re there, and you’re glad that you do, because a particular name piques your interest as you snoop through his emails.
Sharon Carter.
Steve’s ex-assistant, although you’d always assumed she was more than that. She helped your husband climb to the position of Senator — she was his number one fan, more obsessed with him than you.
Your brows knit together. Steve had told you that him and Sharon no longer speak, as a result of her switching to the Republican to spite him. This — these emails, which go back for months — is unfathomable evidence that he’s been lying to you. Your throat feels cotton dry as you frantically scroll, unable to comprehend that they’ve been communicating for months without you knowing.
“What are you doing?”
Fear cracks through your body like a whip. You feel like a thin sheet of ice, cold flooding through your body as your eyes dart up from the computer screen, focused on your husband, who appears unamused by what he’s found.
“So, what are you doing?” Steve repeats when you don’t answer, his lips pursed as he stares at you. The suit he’s wearing is somewhat tight on his arms, and you can see his muscles flex beneath his clothes. “Be a big girl and use your words, honey.”
“You’re — you’re messaging Sharon Carter.”
His eyebrows quirk upwards in amusement. “You went through my emails,” he comments, “without my permission.”
“You’re messaging Sharon Carter,” you repeat, your voice coming out a whisper.
The look that he gives you is degrading. It’s a look of pity — his jaw ticks slightly as he cocks his head, his tongue darting over his plump, pink lips, leaving a glistening sheen in its wake. “And you’re going through my emails,” he reiterates, pushing himself off of the doorframe. “Without my permission.”
“Are you cheating on me?”
An amused expression flitters over Steve’s face as he approaches you. You feel timid in his chair, his large frame overbearing as he looms over you, the blue irises of his eyes impossibly sheathed by his black and blown pupils.
“Cheating?” He asks, beginning to lower himself to your height. You brows furrow in confusion as he kneels in front of you, his hands placing themselves on your knees. “No. Why? Did you think that I was?”
“Yes.”
“Liar,” Steve whispers from beneath you, your skin prickling with goosebumps as his fingers run over the pleated fabric of your skirt. “You just wanted to know what I’ve been doing.”
You push at Steve’s head, forcing him to look up at you. You frown, a twisted warmth pooling inside of your stomach as his hand caresses the plump flesh of your thighs. “Yeah. You’ve been doing her.”
He snorts. “If I wanted Barbie, I would’ve had Barbie.” His hand beckons your thighs apart, and you flush as his hums in content. “No underwear. Whore.”
Your face flushes with warmth. "That’s what you like, isn’t it?”
Steve grins, his fingers parting your folds softly, his knuckle pressing against your swollen clit. You try to kill the moan which climbs up your throat before it can slip past your lips, but it refuses to die. “Like music to my ears,” he comments, his stubble grazing your skin as he peppers deliberate kisses to your thighs, his tongue a cool stimulant to your hot skin, “you’re a naughty girl, you know? Going through my things and then getting all worked up over what you find.”
You can’t bare to look down at his smug face. His blue eyes twinkle as he gazes up at you, and you force your eyes shut, the delicious, dirty feeling of desire brooding inside of you. It pulls at your heart and burns wildly inside of you, only to be smothered by the feeling of his fingers gliding through your folds.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what you found?”
You shake your head, your eyes scrunching shut as his tongue finally makes contact with your heat. “Oh, God,” you whimper as he glides the muscle through your folds, his fingers pushing inside of your cunt.
“Not God. Just Steve.”
His lips twitch, tugging upwards with a smile. Pleasure rides through you in a gentle wave as his tongue makes contact with your clit, his motions gentle as he suckles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
It feels so deliciously wrong. You’re in his office, sat in his chair, with him between your legs. He wasn’t even meant to find you here — you were supposed to be in the kitchen when he got home, but you’d lost track of time.
“Since you won’t tell me, I’ll make an assumption, and I want you to tell me if I’m right.” His voice is gravely, rumbling against your cunt, and you shiver as his fingers curl inside of you. “You went through my emails. You saw Sharon Carter’s name and you had to click, and you read them in detail and you found information.”
“Yes,” you say shakily, groaning as his nose nuzzles into your pelvic bone, his tongue rolling small circles into your sensitive bud. “Yes, I read them. She’s — she’s a bitch and I don’t want you talking to her.”
His brows quirk upwards, his fingers carefully scissoring your tight cunt open. You clench down around him, the pointed look he’s shouting you making you tense. “She’s my spy. Why else would she have switched to Republican last minute?”
“Because you married me and she wishes it was her.”
A wave of pleasure ripples through you as he suckles on your clit, his fingers heavenly as they roll inside of you. “Is she the one getting her cunt eaten in my office, honey?” When you don’t answer, he hums, his voice muffled as he continues to roll his tongue up and down your sticky, wet folds, “no, she’s not, so stop being a brat and let me finish speaking.”
As if to make a point, his fingers still inside of you, and your chest burns with disappointment. “Okay. I’ll stop being a brat,” you submit to him, your voice shaking slightly as you buck your pelvis towards his hand.
“Good girl." His praise makes you shiver, a delicious pleasure crackling through you as his fingers contain their steady motions, his lips peppering soft kisses against your heat intermittently
“The information that you found is very important people, only meant to be seen by people in government.” A delicious pleasure cracks through you like a whip as his fingers glide through your glistening folds, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he rolls his thumb over your sensitive clit. “And, honey, you're not in government. You've got too much of a dumb baby brain for that."
You whine, your legs trembling involuntary as Steve licks up a deliberate stripe up your cunt, his tongue flattening against your clit. "I'm not dumb," you protest weakly, your thighs tensing as his fingers curl inside of you, the lewd squelching of your cunt echoing around his office walls.
Your body becomes electric with sparks, exploding with ecstasy as his tongue licks stripes up and down your slick. It's so intimate, so gentle — his movements are precise, your legs jolting at every movement, every lick.
"Really? You're not?" Steve pulls away, tutting from below you. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that only dumb wives went through their husband's stuff without permission."
"I'm sorry," you say.
"You're not," he replies, his tongue flat as he swirls his muscle around your swollen bud, "but that's okay, honey. I don't expect my wife and her dumb, baby brain to feel sorry for me. I'm the man of this house. I don't need feeling sorry for."
His kisses grow sloppy, his nose pressing heavily into your pelvis. You let out a shaky breath, your stomach flipping as Steve's fingers glide in and out of your cunt. A moan catches in your throat, and you're unsure of whether or not it actually escapes your lips or dies before it gets to do so.
Steve's movements are skilled, deliberate. You melt into the office chair, the leather fabric growing slick beneath you as you softly behind to grind against his face. He's slow and teasing, his tongue swirling around you bud, nipping at it softly. The pinching pain makes you gasp, your breath hitching in your throat as he groans against your cunt.
"Come on, honey. I know you want to let go," he purrs against your cunt, the sensation sending shivers up your spine. "I know you're not holding that much of a grudge against me that you're denying yourself of an orgasm."
You pout. He's right — of course he's right, he's your husband and he knows what's best for you. You finally allow yourself to relax, fully, a soft whimper slipping past your lips as Steve's movements makes your stomach tighten.
And then, it happens. You grow tired of holding back, needy and desperate, and Steve's fingers curl inside of you again, and you let go. Your slick paints his face, your legs trembling as he laps at your heat, his groans sending sparks to your core.
By the time he pulls away, you feel weak. The sight of him only makes you grow weaker, his chin glistening with your slick, his eyes black and blown, a sultry grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His hand runs over his lips and he hums, satisfied with the orgasm that he drew from you.
"I'm sorry, honey. You should have never seen those emails, or the documents attached to them. They're not for you to be concerned about." His hand runs over your thighs, his motions gentle and soft as he caresses your skin. Steve's lips purse, his voice dropping dangerously low as he speaks. "But if you ever go through my emails again, you'll be in serious trouble. You got that, honey?"
Your body grows stiff as he reaches past you to turn the computer off, his lips nestling against your head in the process. The kiss he plants to your forehead is soft and gentle, and you smile up at him.
“Yes, Steve.”
You nod your head like an obedient little wife, and he smiles down at you as he does so.
Domesticated bliss keeps him sane.
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krirebr · 7 months
Text
What You Can Do for Your Country
Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader
Word Count: 1916
Summary: Being Captain America is a lot harder than anyone realizes. Steve thinks you might be able to help.
Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, face slapping, no smut but heavily implied future noncon, general meaness, explicit language, governmental malfeasance. It's dark, you've been warned. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Divider by @cafekitsune
Masterlist
A/N: I'm not fully sure what happened here. I've been wanting to test out the waters of posting writing here for awhile, but I'd sort of had it in my head that I'd wait for a challenge that spoke to me. This is an idea I've had floating around for awhile and when it finally coalesced into something writable, I thought 'fuck it, why not?' So here we are. I'm kind of terrified that I'm just tossing this into the void, so if you read it and have a sec, please let me know what you think!
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You wake up slowly. There's no sound or light, so it takes you a moment to fully realize that you’re even awake. You can't see anything, but you can feel that you're slumped in a corner and that the surface beneath you is hard. You’re definitely not in your room. Where the fuck are you? You try to move into a more comfortable position, and that's when you hear the soft jingle of metal clinking against itself and feel a slight tug on your leg. Your hands immediately go to your ankle, and you find a leather cuff around it, with a chain connected to the wall. You're fully awake now, breaths coming out in short, uneven bursts. Don't panic don’t panic, you try to tell yourself, but that mantra seems to only be making things worse. There's so much to panic about. You reassure yourself that you're still dressed. Things could be worse. The thought strikes you as unbelievably bleak.
You take a deep breath and try to focus. What's the last thing you remember? You were leaving work. The sun was setting, but it wasn’t completely dark yet. A car came up behind you? Or maybe a van? Everything's fuzzy and disjointed when you try to remember anything beyond walking out the door of the coffee shop.
A door suddenly opens into the room, closer than you expected. The space is smaller than you thought. Light floods in from the hallway, blinding you painfully and obscuring the figure stood in the doorway. They flick on a light in the room and the pain in your eyes becomes worse. You cover your face with your hands, trying to lessen the glare and help your eyes adjust. You hear a chuckle from the doorway and slowly look up at the man you can now clearly see. 
It takes a moment to recognize him out of context. But only a moment. It's Captain America. Steve Rogers. You know him. Sort of. He comes into the coffee shop sometimes, since it's right by Avengers Tower. Tall whole milk latte with a sprinkle of nutmeg. He's usually with one of the others. He's nice, tips well, friendly. As friendly as he is with anyone he comes across. It's kind of his whole thing. Of course he's nice to everyone, he's Captain America. Big smile, patriotism, and apple pie. All that jazz. What is going on?
At first, your desperate heart thinks that he must be there to rescue you. But then you actually take him in. He's not in his uniform, but dressed casually, in a white t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, his arms crossed over his massive chest, leaning on the door frame. 
And he's smirking at you. 
"Good, you're awake," Steve says, voice calm and even, but there's a hardness in the way he looks at you that has you trying to cower further into the corner as he approaches. There's nowhere to go and it only takes a few strides for him to get to you. Now that you can see your surroundings, you seem to be in some sort of cleared out walk-in closet. There are bare shelves on the walls and two empty hanging rods line the longer sides of the room. He crouches down in front of you. "I wasn't sure how long you'd be out."
You want to scream at him to let you go, ask what the fuck is going on, something but instead what comes out is a pathetic "Please don’t hurt me!" 
His face completely softens and he coos "Oh sweetheart," as he brushes away a tear you hadn’t realized you'd shed. Maybe you got this wrong. Maybe he is here to help you. Maybe it's going to be al– "What else do you think you're for?"
And then, before you've even had time to process what he's said, he slaps you across the face. Hard enough to make you slump back into the wall, uselessly cradling your cheek, tears streaming down your face freely now. You've seen enough clips on TV to know he didn't put his full strength into it and that, more than anything else that's happened so far, has you so terrified you can barely breathe. 
Steve tips his head back and briefly closes his eyes, growling out an elongated "Fuuck." He touches the hot spot where he hit you and gives a satisfied smile when you flinch and whimper. "I was right," he mutters to himself. "This is exactly what I needed." 
You’ve never really felt like an especially small person, but even crouched like this, he dwarfs you. Up close you’re able to really appreciate how gigantic he is and it makes any fight left in you completely disappear. What are you supposed to do, up against a super soldier?
But you also can’t just completely give in yet, so when his hand starts to wander from your cheek down your neck and to your chest, you do your best to bat it away and put as much strength as you can into your “Don’t touch me!” 
When that same hand comes up to roughly grab your chin, you try to avoid him, but you’re shown once more that there’s really nothing you can do. Steve squeezes cruelly as he says “You are going to figure out very quickly that ‘don’t’ is a word you're not allowed to use with me. Along with no, stop, and wait. You’re mine now and I can do whatever I want with you.” 
He lets go of you with a slight push and the back of your head hits the wall. You let out a whimper and he chuckles again. You finally give into your confusion and let out a quiet “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” he says, and this time you recognize how that word drips with condescension. “This must be so hard for a stupid little thing like you.” He brushes your hair off your forehead with an exaggerated pout, and you don’t get how this could be the same man that always made a point to ask how your day was going whenever he ordered from you.
He stands up so that he’s truly towering over you now. “You have no idea how hard it is to be Captain America,” he says, “to always be expected to do the right thing, to be good and kind and wholesome,” he snarls the last word. “It’s impossible to keep up without losing your goddamn mind. I can’t just be a symbol of all things patriotic  and virtuous all the time. I’m a real person, not a fucking bald eagle. It's becoming a problem.” He looks down at you and smiles the most terrifying smile you’ve ever seen. “That’s where you come in. There are some days when I just need to hurt something. So now, every bad mood, impure thought or filthy desire I have, I’ll just take it out on you. And then I’ll be able to go back into the world and be the Captain America they need me to be.”
You just stare at him, wondering how you’ve never noticed it before. This man is insane. An actual sociopath. What kind of plan is this? This isn’t– no! “You can’t just do that!” You argue. “I’m a person, too! I have a family, a job, a life! People will notice I’m gone. They’ll come looking for me.” 
Steve laughs outright this time, and it’s startling in how cruel it is. There’s really nothing of the man you thought you knew in the one standing in front of you. He crouches down again and gets so close to you that you can feel his breath. “Oh baby, you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you?” He turns his head slightly to whisper right in your ear, “Everyone already knows what’s happened to you.” He leans back so that he can see the horror on your face. How is that possible? It can’t be.
“You really think I just grabbed you off the street, all by myself? Oh no honey. I went through official channels for this. I requisitioned you. I meant it when I said it was becoming a problem. I’ve been… slipping, lately. And when I slip, it doesn’t just affect me or my team, but the entire country. It affects the fate of the entire free world. So when the president himself came to me and asked what I needed to get my head on straight, I told him what I’ve told you. A pretty little thing to hurt and I gave him your name. And so you were delivered to me today by a fleet of government vehicles. Your family’s been well compensated. They’ll never have to pay taxes again, for a start. And you, I’ve given you an incredible purpose. A chance to serve your country, a chance to help all of humanity. Everytime I’m able to go out and save the world, it’ll be because you’re here, serving me. You should take pride in that.”
You can’t help starting to cry again. This can’t be true. It just can’t be. Your family can’t have– No. Steve’s lying or they didn’t have a choice or– “Why me?” is all you’re able to eke out from the jumble in your head. 
“Because every time I went into that coffee shop and you looked up at me with those big eyes and that sweet smile, all I could think about was how badly you needed to be ruined. Broken. And how I wanted to be the one to do it.” 
You let out a sob at that. You always thought that when it came down to it, fight was your fear response. But now you understand, you’d never been truly afraid before. In the face of real, hopeless terror, all you can do is freeze. There’s nothing else to do. You can’t fight him. You can’t run. No one is looking for you. You’ve never felt so powerless in your life. You’re pathetic and weak. That’s what Steve saw in you, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here.
“Those tears are so pretty, baby. Got me so fucking hard.” He stands up with a slap to his thighs. “Alright, enough talk. I’ve waited too fucking long for this.” He walks to the opposite wall and gestures to you. “Get up, take off your clothes. I’ve been dreaming about what’s under that uniform.” You cry out and huddle further into the wall, but he clucks his tongue at you. “Trust me when I say that you don’t want me to have to tell you twice.”
You nod needlessly and get up, your legs shaking underneath you. You throw off your shirt just to get it over with and push down your pants until they get stuck on the chain. You pause at your underwear, but a growled out, “Keep going,” has you robotically removing them as well. 
You try to cover yourself, but know that it’s useless. He paces in front of you and groans. “Fuck, you’re so soft. You’re gonna break so good, baby.” He takes off his shirt and throws it on top of your own, his muscles rippling with the movement. You can’t help the whimper that comes out and Steve grins at you as he approaches, hands beginning to unbuckle his belt. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll teach you exactly how to be the perfect little toy for me.”
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Text
The Lost 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers
Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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“And this is your room,” Muriel stops before a door along the short hallway. “You have a neighbour just across the hall, and two more on the other side of the kitchen.”
You nod. It isn’t an ideal situation. Not one you ever saw yourself in. But survival isn’t built for the fussy. There are many others like you. Those not so lucky, those who are dead. Many who never got the choice of a new home.
You keep your hand on your rolling bag, your other on your canvas knapsack. They’re full of items that aren’t your own. Second-hand clothes acquired from shelters and toiletries given out by the support workers. You’re on your own now.
“Anything else, dear?” Muriel asks to your silence.
“Thank you, Muriel,” you murmur.
She hands you the key and leaves. Before showing you your own space, she took you around those shared by the rest of her boarders. You suppose they’re your roommates now. A kitchen, two bathrooms, a front room with a tattered couch and old tube television. You’ll stick to your own four walls.
You slide the key in the slot, the metal grinding loudly. You hear a throat clear and peer towards the noise. The walls must be thin. You’re still alone. You let yourself into the room, pulling the door shut behind you. You flip the lock back into place before you shove your bags by the wall.
There’s a twin bed with a metal frame, a single night table, and a standing lamp. There’s also a shallow closet. It’s not much but you don’t need more than that. It’s good to have a roof over your head.
You sit on the lumpy mattress and the frame squeaks loudly. You stand up again and pace around. There isn’t too much room. It shouldn’t matter, you won’t need it. You’ll be out working and back to sleep again. You start tomorrow at the convenience shop.
You hear a thump and your head pops up. You can’t help but jump in your shoes. Ever since the city rained down around you, every bump, every sudden noise has you skittish. It’s nothing, only another boarder.
You go to your bag and unbuckle the flap. You pull out a can of beans and the pocket knife in the side pocket. You go back to the bed and sit, another shrill whine from the metal frame. You pull out the can open from the pocket knife and peel back the lid. On the same keychain is a small metal spork you use to scoop out the beans, eating them cold as your stomach growls hungrily.
You eat, bite by bite, staring at the wall, just beside the only window. It isn’t home. You don’t expect one of those. It’s just a place to live. To survive.
🚪
You take your toothbrush and your tube of toothpaste with you to the bathroom down the hall. It’s just across from the other bedroom on that side of the flat. The doorway is dark, beckoning you inside. You flip on the light and shut the door as you enter.
You turn on the tap and set to brushing your teeth. Such a basic and simple task but one you didn’t always have the chance to do. It’s almost soothing to feel the bristles in your mouth. It makes you feel almost normal.
You take your time as the mint flavour sticks to your tongue. You rinse your brush and flick off the excess water, sliding it back into the travel tube and capping the paste. You look at yourself in the mirror, not for long, just to make sure you still recognise you.
You clutch your things in one hand and flick the light off. You open the door and nearly shriek at the shadow waiting in the hall. You waver in the doorway as a tiny wisp escapes your throat. You blink as the dark silhouette stands with arms crossed in the dim hall.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man says gruffly.
He's tall but mostly obscured. His hair wings out around his neck and his shoulders bulge broadly. You feel his eyes boring into you, as he can see through the darkness and you.
You dip your chin and sidle out, keeping your distance as you sidestep along the wall. You should apologise but your voice is buried deep down. You put your hand up in a show of deference.
“You done?” He asks.
You pause and look at the plaster across from you. You nod then turn your back to him completely. He must be the neighbour. You quickly shuffle to your room and hide behind the door. It’s much better than the shelter, you don’t have someone rolling into your sleeping bag, but still, you’re claustrophobic.
You mourn that most. The sense of privacy. Of personal space. Have a place that’s your own with people you know. People you love.
You toss your toothbrush and toothpaste onto the night table and huff as you sit on the bed. You frown and push your head back, trying to soothe the tightness between your shoulders. You blow out, breath rattling as your nose tingles.
You can never go back to Sokovia or how it was. You can only go forward and the road ahead is very lonely.
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vampy-doll · 5 months
Text
Dark!Steve Rogers: Blizzard❄️
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Dark!Steve Rogers One Shot: Blizzard
Masterlist
Words: 2.1k
Tw:// 18+, yandere!Steve, smut, dubcon/noncon, somno, forced orgasm, references to previous stalking, breeding kink, brief daddy kink, sheathing, if I’m missing any pls let me know
A/N: when is Ai gonna make Steve Rogers whimper audio asking for myself not a friend. This is like a lowkey sub vibe Steve but still dark dominating Steve, personally I just like men whimpering like sluts. Written, edited, posted from my phone so my bad if it’s not up to par but also fuck you
You are responsible for your own media consumption. By continuing reading you confirm you are 18+, I do not give permission to have any of my work reposted or translated in any other platform even if you give credit.
The sleeping bags, extra blankets, and the two jackets wrapped around you weren’t enough to keep you warm enough to fall asleep. You’d never be able to fall asleep when the sound of your teeth chattering together vibrated your head.
A recon search, a pointless one at that given that you found no new information, left you and your infamous partner Steve Rogers stranded in a blizzard that the forecast claimed wouldn’t be arriving until the morning that started to come as you tried to leave your mission base. This was barely a mission, it shouldn’t have even needed two people to do let alone with Captain America. But in your stint of working with Steve you knew that he believed in safety in numbers and to never send someone alone.
Leave no soldier behind
It was a three mile trek back to the jet but regardless of how far it was, each step was pointless when you could barely see in front of you. Steve had even gone through the lengths of wrapping a rope from your wrist to his to keep you from getting separated. There was no way you could make it there, you might’ve made it a mile total and yet it felt like you’d been walking for days.
“We need to get shelter,” Steve yelled over the wind that screamed like a banshee. “We passed by that abandoned house twenty minutes back there’s no way we can make it to the jet or fly home right now. We’ll have to wait till morning.”
You didn’t argue, only giving a nod, as you followed him turning back towards the mansion, glad that the walk back followed the current of the wind making the hike less unbearable without the wind beating against your face.
Despite how creepy it was that abandoned mansion was your saving grace. White sheets cast over the furniture all the furniture, dust accumulated over everything, it was likely some rich person’s summer home currently unoccupied for the winter.
In the living room past the foyer and dining room, the bare fireplace felt like a gift sent. Steve was quick to start a fire as you pushed two sheet-covered couches as close as possible to the fireplace without becoming a hazard.
The mansion surely had to have had an overabundance of bedrooms but you hadn’t bothered to explore more than needed. Just enough to make sure you were the only ones here. But those bedrooms might not have a fireplace and you’d end up having to share a bed in order not to split up.
Although the fire probably saved your life you still felt like you were in a morgue with the shivers that raked through you.
You’d love to fawn over the architecture but right now that was the last thing you could think of.
Thanks to the scientists that made your favorite lab rat, Steve always ran hot, the fire was all he needed and you didn’t try to protest when he gave you his coat.
“Out of all the places I’ve used as a safe house,” he quipped, breaking the loud silence of the crackling fire and wind whistling against the windows. “This one is definitely the fanciest.”
You chuckled to yourself remembering that one time you, him, Nat, and Bucky all arrived at a safe house that looked like it had a tornado run through it.
“Couch may be uncomfortable but still the best thing I’ve used to sleep on during one of these trips.” You added. You both kept the sheet cover over the couches, their aged antique condition made you wonder how long they’d been abandoned and it’d probably be better than changing if the couch was home to some creepy crawlers.
“How much longer are you gonna be shaking like a leaf over there until you just come over here and lay with me?”
You’d thought about it before you had even started the fire but there’s no way you could’ve asked him.
The team took humor in your relationship or lack thereof. The tension wasn’t blind to you, it felt like a classic rom-com will-they/won’t-they trope but you wouldn’t wanna chance ruining the dynamic of the friendship you did have. So you had to pretend like seeing a super soldier fawn over you with heart eyes didn’t make you blush. At this point you were pretty sure that the two of you being the only ones sent on this trip was the team trying to set you up, they weren’t as patient nor forgiving as the two of you and your silent agreement.
“I’m fine, I don't know what you’re talking about.” You shook your head, too stubborn to admit defeat.
“Get over here or I’m gonna take my jacket back.” He playfully threatened causing you to huff and painfully leave the heat of your cocoon and shuffle over to his couch the marble tiling too cold on your feet.
As you began to realign the blankets for your new arrangement you were distracted by the muscular man taking his long sleeve shirt off. “The fastest way to stay warm is skin to skin.”
You couldn’t help but audibly laugh at him. “I’m not getting naked, but nice try.”
“C’mon, don’t you wanna stay warm?” He smiled as you tucked yourself next to him, the couch not being very wide so you had no choice but to lay tightly pressed against him. “If there’s anyone who knows what it’s like to be frozen, it’s me.”
You tried to muffle your giggle. “If I wasn’t so cold I’d hit you.”
Steve readjusted his position around you, spooning you to rest your head against his muscular arm as a makeshift pillow. “Better not hear a word of this from anyone else, the teasing will never stop.”
“My lips are sealed, angel.”
You hoped the chill that ran down your spine as his deep husky voice calling you angel in your ear passed off as just being a symptom of the cold. Angel was new, maybe he was getting a fever and starting to become delirious.
His smell was so hypnotizing. No fancy colognes, after being occupied on a mission all day, just Steve. Thankfully you hadn’t sweat much on the trip or else you wouldn’t let him touch you with a ten-foot pole.
The sound of the crackling fireplace and Steve’s fast heartbeat with his breath brushing past your ear you tried to hide the girlish glee you felt. You didn’t do relationships, you were too busy, and the fewer connections you had the less someone could use against you. But the affection Steve was giving was enough to break any stubborn spell and melt into him. You were so touch-starved just him holding you was better than sex but you hadn’t had that in quite a while either.
You swore to yourself no matter how horny you got you would never fuck your coworkers. It’s not like a normal job where you can just resign when things get too awkward. You didn’t have an HR to go to if details of your affair started whispering through the locker rooms.
You fell asleep so quickly in his arms, your body became so instantly exhausted once you were warm enough to stop shivering. You hadn’t fully registered the fact Steve had begun pulling your shirt up. “Steve?” You grumbled. “M’ not getting naked.”
“You don’t have to,” he corrected. “Pulling your shirt up to your stomach so you can at least get some skin to skin even if it’s just your waist. I’d never do something to you that you didn’t like.”
“Fine,” you grumbled, snuggling back into him. You would surely kick yourself in a few days when you realize how close you were to being curled up next to a naked super soldier waiting out a snowstorm beside a crackling fireplace in an extremely romantic trope scenario.
Sleep quickly consumed you like an oncoming wave on an unsuspecting swimmer. A deep warmth buried within you and at the brief moment you had before falling asleep the idea of giving it his charms and crush felt worth any future repercussions. Captain or not, Steve would always take care of you.
———
“Steve?” You whimpered, a jolting forced you awake. His fast breathing, heavy with desire brushed along your ear and it took you a moment to realize what was happening. You didn’t need to look to know what was happening.
Your arms flew back at him, trying to push away from him as fast as you could and force yourself from the couch but he was fast to wrap his thick arms around you keeping you anchored against him.
Your snow pants were shimmied to your knees with your top leg forced to raise high and around his hip. Your shirt and jackets had been pulled up past your breasts and your bra yanked down. As his top arm forced you against him his hand from his arm below you groped your breasts.
“I’m sorry angel,” he whined through gritted teeth as you felt what had to be the tip of his cock poke at your entrance. “I wasn’t planning on doing this I swear.”
“Let me go!” You screamed trying to wrestle out his hold despite knowing it was a fight you’d never win but he tangled his legs around you forcing them to stay open. This wasn’t happening, not with him.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”
A breath escaped your lungs as he forced his cock inside you. “Steve…” You cried in utter disbelief.
“I’m so sorry Angel.” His voice was drenched in guilt that you felt no empathy for. “I’ve just loved you so much for so long I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Please stop!” You begged. “I won’t say anything!”
His hand left your breasts and clapped over your mouth, your cries filling him with too much guilt that he couldn’t stand hearing you in the pain he was causing. He couldn’t stand you asking him to stop when he’s wanted this for so long. It wasn’t a part of the fantasy that kept him up at night.
“I didn’t want our first time to be like this.” The arm he had wrapped around your waist locking you to him had maneuvered its way to between your thighs desperate to caress and rub your clit. “You just kept wiggling against my cock in your sleep and-and I was only gonna make myself cum but then you were so close and I pulled down your pants just enough to look at you and then I co-couldn’t stop myself.”
You wrestled in his arms trying to get free, your sobs still audible over his makeshift gag. “Please stop fighting,” he begged. “Just wanna make you feel good as your pussy is making me feel. Just let me do this, I promise I’ll make it feel good if you just let me.”
You didn’t want to stop fighting, you wanted free, but even if you did where would you go? You were at least a mile and a half away from the jet and he’d catch you before you could even make it out the front door. And even if you got out, got away, made it to the jet, survived flying home, what was the point when no one would believe you? You aren’t even sure you could believe yourself this was happening.
“Just let me rub your pussy and make you cum. I’ve watched you do it to yourself so many times I know how you like it.”
You screamed against his hand. There was no horror movie as scary as his confessions.
“You’re starting to get wet it won’t hurt much longer, you’re being so good for me. You’re my good girl.”
The shock had overridden the pain that you hadn’t even fully realized until now. You’d surely be sore and bleeding for days after this but you hadn’t started to feel it until the abrupt confessions had pulled you from your adrenaline-filled trance.
“I needed you, I’ve wanted you for so long I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
Steve fucked into you harder and harder each thrust nearly throwing you off the couch if he didn’t have a hold on you, the base skidding slightly across the tile.
A shameful moan vibrated against his hand as his fingers caught onto a rhythm that was enough to drive you crazy.
“Atta girl, your little cunt needed this. You need me to take care of you and I always will. I’ll never let you go.”
Beaten moans and heavy breathing ricochet off his hand until he finally let go and you gasped for air. “You like my cock, angel? I know you do, I can feel you squeezing me so tight, you wanted me to do this to you, didn’t you?”
Violently shaking your head and biting your lip to keep a pleasure-soaked cry from leaving you. “I’m gonna fill you up, you have no clue how much I cum I’m gonna flood your tight cunt and get you pregnant.”
“Steve don’t!” That was the only thing you could get yourself to say. “Please don’t, please.”
“Don’t make me silence you again.” He scolded as his thrusts became more forceful. “Don’t you wanna make me a daddy? You wanna be the lucky woman who gets to carry Captain America’s children.”
Pleading cries quickly dissolved on your tongue as his touch became too powerful and brought you to the edge.
“That’s it, angel.” He grunted you could feel his cock twitch deep in you. “Need to feel you cum, wanna hear it n’ feel it.”
“Fuck…” you gasped as you shamefully met your hips back into his forcing his fingers to rub harder how you needed until you finally came squeezing him involuntarily.
“Fuck, I’m gonna…” Steve breathily whimpered as his hips jackhammered into you until he abruptly stopped and let out a growling grunt.
It took only a moment later you felt his cum drip out of you and down your thighs and his groin. He really wasn’t being dramatic when he said he came so much.
Steve stayed burrowed inside you, his cock twitching as it softened within you. “You were so good, I’m sorry it had to be like that, I promise when we get back I’m gonna take you on a real date and I’ll make up for it. You are my Angel, I’m so happy we’re finally together.”
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A/N: damn this foul of me lmao. I could see maybe having a part two to this but it depends on how y’all feel ab it I just don’t want it to feel redundant to the ‘fake happy post dark fic’ endings that we’ve all see and I’ve written before.
Taglist is open for any character! Pls either DM me or send an ask to be added bc if not I probably won’t see it any other way.
Taglist for CE characters: @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters
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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 1 year
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Future Plans
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Pairing: Dark Steve Rogers x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
SUMMARY: Steve has a desire to have a family and you’re no one to stop him. 
WARNINGS: Non-con; Implied Kidnapping; Forced Pregnancy. 
AN: First time writing non-con, so let me know how this is. This is a small gift for reaching 900 followers, thank you guys! Please, reblog and give me feedback.
--
“No! Stop it!” you cry out but to no avail. Steve keeps fucking you against the matress with rough thrusts, his pelvis hitting your own in a painful way that makes you squeal.
You’re dry as a desert and it only makes your pain worse, his massive cock drilling your weak pussy. His hands hold down your wrists, his handsome face contorted with wicked pleasure as his sweat drips down to your face. 
The bed squeaks with every movement, continuously hitting the wall behind it. The tears keep wetting your face as you’re unable to control yourself. You hate him so much, you just want him to leave you alone. 
“Oh, fuck, I’m getting so close.” he groans, eyes rolling with satisfaction. Steve tries to kiss you, but you turn your head so his lips kiss your skin instead, sucking and spreading his disgusting saliva all over you. 
“I’m gonna give you a kid, how about that?” he grunts, moving a hand to grab your face, forcing you to stare at him. Horror fills every inch of your body, the little hope you had for yourself starting to disappear.
“No, no…” you regain energy as you strongly try to push Steve away from you. A child is the least thing you need right now.
He only chuckles, followed by a moan and he thrusts into you harder, eyes glinting with intense emotion. Lust, madness.
“You’re gonna be so heavy with my kid that you won’t be able to stand properly, much less run away. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. Fuck, yes.” Steve mutters, his thrusts getting more erratic and violent as he keeps talking. 
“I’ll always keep you pregnant, heavy and full of my babies. That’s going to be so nice, isn’t it?” tears keep running down your face and you’re not sure if it’s because of his aggressive way of fucking you or because of deranged his plans. 
He fucks you relenlessly until he suddenly halts, a loud moan escaping his lips as the buries his face on your face. Steve crashes down on top of you, his weight making it harder for you to breathe but he doesn’t seem to notice you trying to get away from him.
Instead, he kisses your neck and takes a deep breath, pushing his cock until you can’t take more of him. Some white cum drips down your pussy and down your thighs, the feeling is gross and you can’t wait to clean it all.
He seems to have read your mind because he hugs you, twisting your body so that you’re caged back into his arms, his cock still buried inside you. 
“No cleaning, babe, we gotta make sure it sticks. We should have a little one in nine months.” Steve declares, tilting his hips upwards, as he kisses the top of your sweaty head.
You close your eyes, hoping to wake up next morning and find out it’s all just a big nightmare. 
It’s not and in nine months, you find yourself holding a tiny baby as Steve fervoulsy kisses your forehead, thanking you for giving him such a beautiful bundle of joy. 
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kechiwrites · 5 months
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property lines
dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader
kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).
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synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.
wc: 2.2k
cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny
author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.
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Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.
He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 
Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).
It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 
So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.
So you agree. What’s the harm, right?
The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 
You don’t really get the chance.
Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 
"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 
"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.
The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.
“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 
Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.
“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 
He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 
“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 
No. That’s not quite right. 
It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.
Your stomach roils.
He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 
“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.
“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.
“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.
He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.
But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.
“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.
You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.
“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.
He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.
Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?
“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.
Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.
You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.
“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.
“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.
And the fear finally comes.
You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.
But the fear doesn’t go away.
And neither will your neighbour.
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god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.
find the rest of the masterlist here.
support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.
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babyjakes · 3 months
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clear blue water.
〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
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event | kinkmas 2023
prompt | watersports
pairing | soft!dark!daddies!steve rogers and ari levinson x little!reader
warnings | dark ddlg dynamic (soft!dark!daddies of captive!little!reader.) dub/non-con. shower scene. crying kink. moment of nipple play. thigh riding. clit focus <33 + fingering. forced orgasm. watersports (unexpected wetting.) mocking/humiliation. praise and encouragement. aftercare (cleaning off.)
word count | 1,205
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an | they have one of those big fancy walk-in showers with the bench in the back, the ones made of marble?? i didn't know how to describe it in-fic so i'm just dropping that info here lol. i don't usually write shower stuff so i hope this turned out okay :')
edit | this is written in the same au as you all over me, with captive!reader and her soft!dark!daddies.
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There was no use in squirming or struggling. Any resistance you showed would only make things harder for yourself. And yet as hard as you tried, you couldn't keep your trembling body still. Perched up on Steve's broad thigh, your shoulder blades pressed back against his bare front side, you felt like a cornered animal as Ari crouched down in front of you on the sleek shower floor. A look of mock concern drew across the brunette's face as he reached out to brush dripping strands of hair out of your face.
Steve's arm was steady around your waist holding you in place, but there was little harshness to his grasp. Neither of the men were particularly rough or violent with you, but there were times when you honestly found yourself wishing they would be. There was just something about the way they treated you, with such love and patience- it felt so wrong, given the circumstances. It was maddening.
"P-please, don't make me..." Your begging seemed pathetic even to you as Ari shook his head regretfully, his large hand trailing down to begin toying with one of your tits. His fingertips teased lightly over your already-stiffened nipple, tweaking and tugging at the poor knot of flesh as he shared a steady look with Steve.
"C'mon doll, you're alright. Be a big girl and let your daddies help you," the man holding you encouraged softly. He brought up a hand of his own to begin occupying your other breast as his counterpart shifted his focus lower.
"Gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," Ari promised as he leaned his face down a little, settling his unwanted gaze on your puffy pussy lips as they sat helplessly atop Steve's muscular thigh. Letting out a thoughtful hum, the crouching man mused, "Now, let's see here..."
Steve shifted you up slightly along the length of his leg, placing a hand on either side of your waist to keep you balanced and upright. "Good, that's better," Ari murmured appreciatively as he brought his own prying hands down to gently spread your pussy lips over the surface you were perched on. A feeble whine rose in your throat as your dripping hole and clit came in contact with Steve's damp skin. "There," Ari smiled approvingly, "right up against Daddy's leg. Are you gonna be a good girl and ride Stevie's thigh, baby? Or are we gonna have to help you?"
Big, warm tears of humiliation sprang from your eyes as you tried to glare at the brown-haired man before you. To your dismay, Ari simply seemed to find your little act of defiance endearing. "Poor little girl, what a pretty pout," he crooned as he leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead.
"That's okay, sweetheart," Steve's voice was low and rumbly from behind you, "little babies need their daddies' help. That's what we're here for." Tightening his grip on your waist, he drew a faltering cry from your trembling lips as he began bouncing his leg beneath you, grinding your hips down with his hands at a steady, punishing rhythm.
Ari's expression was full of sympathy as he reached in again to aid in your torment. With just the tips of his fingers, he spread your labia back further, watching as your poor little bundle of nerves was dragged repeatedly over the slippery surface below. "I know, baby. I know," he frowned gently. "Bet your poor little button burns, doesn't it?"
"Poor thing," Steve played right along with his partner's cruel game of faux pity. "How long d'you think she'll last, Ari? Look at her, she's getting worked up already," he pointed out as your shaking legs kicked helplessly beneath you.
"That's our perfect girl," Ari hummed as he and Steve kept up their steady movements. "Shouldn't take long," he stated knowingly, "poor baby's so sensitive, doesn't take much to make her come."
Heat was rising up through your neck and face as your torture dragged on. As always, you were doing everything you could to fight off the inevitable, but very quickly you were finding it all to just be too much. The way they spoke about you as if you weren't even there, the mortifying detail they were discussing your circumstances in. The way forcing you to orgasm seemed to be their favorite pastime, the way they knew the quickest and most efficient ways to bring you right to the edge of those unwanted climaxes they loved so much...
"Getting so wet, doll. You getting close?" Steve murmured against the back of your neck as your broken whimpers and sobs grew louder and more desperate.
Ari could see that familiar look growing on your face, prompting him to bring the pads of his fingers down to rub quickly and harshly against your throbbing button. "C'mon, baby. Give it to us," he commanded, his voice now stronger with an heir of authority.
"Don't fight it, little one," Steve crooned, his voice vibrating against your ear as the horrible feelings swelled up inside of you. As you were sent reeling towards your high, the man behind you brought a firm arm around your lurching body to steady you. Just as your orgasm began tearing through you, the pressure applied to your lower belly proved too much to bear; in a humiliating moment of complete and total helplessness, a surge of warmth shot out from your spasming cunt as you gushed and came simultaneously.
Feeling the forceful spray hit his thigh, Steve couldn't help but beam at the sight of your forfeited control. Ari caught on to what was happening only fractions of a moment later, immediately sharing in his friend's delight. "There, let it all out, sweetheart," he chuckled softly as the unbearable waves of pleasure and relief continued.
"Poor baby, just couldn't hold it, huh?" Steve joined in as your overwhelming climax finally began to wind down. As soon as you left its grips, your poor body slumped uselessly against your captors' holds. Ari removed his fingers from your twitching button as Steve eased you back to lean against his broad chest, gently planting a kiss to your temple as you sat there helplessly, too weak to do anything but struggle for air through your tears.
"Shhh," Ari brought his hands to rub soothingly over the tops of your thighs. As the humiliation of the situation settled in, your cries only worsened, earning concerned yet understanding looks from both of the men as they sat there with you in the humid air. Steve rubbed your tummy gently as Ari stepped away momentarily, retrieving a rag and the bottle of body soap from the front of the shower before returning. You were too weak and exhausted to fight as the man began washing you off, continuing to offer you soft words of praise and reassurance along with Steve.
"You're okay, sweetheart. Just let your daddies take care of you," the blonde told you softly as the warm, soothing cloth was dragged over your ruined body.
"Our little baby. So good for her daddies," Ari kissed your nose, his loving acts and words only feeling like salt in the gaping wound they had once again torn open in you.
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hansensgirl · 3 months
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summary. | Your affair with your boyfriend’s dad escalates drastically.
prompts. | Steve Rogers + boyfriend’s dad + “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that.” + cum-play, requested by Anonymous.
pairing. | dark!boyfriend’s dad!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.
warnings. | NON/DUBCON, smut, cheating, age gap, restraints, cum-play, fingering, male masturbation, orgasm (f), Daddy kink, praise, dirty talk, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics
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You can’t even begin to imagine what your boyfriend would say if he caught you.
Steve keeps telling you his son won’t be home anytime soon, but you doubt it. He has a way with words where he can get you to do anything, and that scares you.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy, baby,” the older grunts, keeping your legs spread open with one of his strong hands. His skin is flushed and covered in sweat—you can’t help but admire him, even though you shouldn’t. 
The affair should’ve ended ages ago, but every time you tried, Steve managed to convince you otherwise. 
“I should’ve tied you up a while ago—I love seeing you like this, all vulnerable…” Steve says, and you wiggle your fingers just a bit. He’s got your hands above your head, wrists tied together with a piece of red silk. You still have feeling in your arms, but the knot is tight enough to prevent you from breaking loose. 
Your boyfriend’s dad strokes his large cock, pre-cum dripping down and onto his pale hand. He stares at your cunt, admiring his work. Your clit is raw and puffy, and your hole is leaking with his cum. It drips down to your ass and then the bed, staining the navy blue sheets. 
“Do you like it, sweetie?” Steve questions, looking up at you. You’re a panting, writhing mess, with your chest rising and falling. Your tits beckon him to play with them, and so he does. 
The hand he used to keep your legs open—even though the special rope that he tied you to the bedposts with already does that—travels to your chest. He pinches at your hard nipples, and you whimper, pouting at the sensation. 
“Uh-huh, I love it, Daddy,” you tell him, your mouth operating before your brain has time to even think about what he’s asked you. But it’s true—you love everything he does to you, even though you always fight him a bit at first. But Steve likes that; it makes him so hard. “I know you do, baby.”
Steve leans forward and takes one of your nubs into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his teeth as he massages the other. He then switches, giving the other breast the same treatment until you’re saying, “Daddy… Please…”
You can feel the older man’s cock against your thigh, and you realize that you’re in need of another orgasm. When he’s around, you’re insatiable. Perhaps it’s the thrill of getting caught—the secrecy. Or maybe it’s just that Steve Rogers knows how to make you feel so good. 
“What does my princess need? Hm?” he questions once he pulls his mouth off your tit, releasing your nipple with a resounding ‘pop!’. “Wanna come again, Daddy… Please?” you ask sweetly, giving Steve your best puppy-dog eyes.
You catch sight of the greys that decorate his hair, especially in his beard. You’ve told him how much you love them before, and afterwards, he ate you out until you were crying.
“Daddy’ll make you come again, baby. Don’t worry,” he tells you, and you thank him nicely. “You’re such a good girl,” Steve coos. 
He stretches his dominant hand down to your messy pussy, and he rubs your folds just to tease you. You whine, and he chuckles. He reaches down to your leaking hole and groans when he feels just how wet you are. 
“Daddy really filled you up, huh, baby?” Steve notes, dipping his fingers into the mixture of his seed and your arousal. He coats his digits in his cum and pushes in, shoving two fingers into your cunt. Your back arches off the bed, and Steve praises you for taking his digits so well. “Daddy’s best girl.”
Steve begins to fuck you with his fingers, sometimes pulling them out entirely to spread his cum all over your pussy. The wet sounds that come from your pussy are so loud, but your moans drown them out. He curls his fingers skillfully, reaching that sweet spot that has your legs shaking just a bit.
“Fuck! ‘M gonna come,” you whimper, and the older man curses. “Gonna come for Daddy? Go on, make an even bigger mess, baby,” Steve urges.
As he says this, you come undone around his fingers. Your walls clench him, and you thrash around a bit from the amount of stimulation. 
“Good girl, so good for me,” Steve hums, and through your fucked-out stupor, you register the tell-tale chime of the sensor on the front door. Your boyfriend. He calls out, asking if anyone’s home.
Panic surges through you, and your stomach drops. Your sensual mood is immediately killed, and you try to wriggle out of the situation Steve has placed you in.
The older man chuckles. “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that,” he says, and he doesn’t do anything to help.
“Steve! Untie me—he’s gonna catch us,” you spit through clenched teeth, scared and angry. “Mm, no,” he bluntly tells you, and you fight him even more. “Please! You can’t let him see us like this,” you reason, tugging at your restraints.
“I think it’s time he learns how much his girlfriend loves Daddy. Don’t you agree?” 
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georgiapeach30513 · 5 months
Text
Kinktober 2023, Day 6
Take The Time
Summary: Every morning you wake up from your worst night. The entire night relentlessly being chased. And each night your will to outrun him was waning. He didn’t seem so bad. And every morning you missed Bucky even more. He had been gone for so long, with no thought of returning. So why were you running from your nightmare? And why were you so so exhausted? When he touched you, why could you still feel it? And why was the rose he gave you now in your bed?
Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, implied non con (sleeping), chasing, stalking/obsession, kidnapping, brief bondage, voyeurism, unprotected sex, PIV sex, manhandling, taunting, creampie, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 2.7K
Previous
Series Masterlist
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You jolt up in your bed. Chest heaving as you take short shallow breaths. Looking around to find you’ve managed to be in your bed. The recurring dream — nightmare leaves you feeling disoriented in the morning. Everything seems so real. And you wake up breathless.
Rubbing the back of your neck, you take count of your body. Things are sore. Like you had really been running. Had been chased all night by some masked man. You were running less and less. Slowing down because you wanted to see his face. You couldn’t tell if he was chasing you because he wanted to kill you or if he just wanted you.
He didn’t seem angry as he chased you. He seemed…worried. He was trying to warn you of something, but what? The only thing you cared about was finding where your boyfriend has been.
Picking up your phone, you make the same call as you do every morning. His best friend’s voice groans as he answers, “We haven’t heard from him. I told you I would let you know if there are any leads.”
“Steve, I don’t think he’s that far away,” your voice trails off as you look at your bedside table. A single pink rose and no thorns. There was only one person who ever did that for you.
Steve repeats your name several times before you realize he had been speaking, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Could you please answer me?”
“Steve, there’s…I have a pink rose, and the thorns have been pulled off.”
“I’m on my way,” Steve was well aware of Bucky’s favorite thing to leave behind for you. It was always a pink rose. Red was cliche, and harsh. Pink was your color. Delicate, feminine, sweet. And every time he painstakingly pulled off each of the thorns. No one would ever hurt you while he was around. Not even an inanimate object or a plant.
You walk into the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, you look like shit. A few weeks without sleeping would do that to you. You wanted to tell Steve not to come by. What good would it do? If it was Bucky that left that rose behind, he didn’t want to be seen. If it was someone else, Bucky no longer cares for your safety. Your will in the real world was dwindling just as much as your dream self. You didn’t want to chase for him anymore. You just wanted to know he was okay.
——
You turn to look over your shoulder, and the masked man is gaining on you. A few more strides, and he would be close enough to capture you. You pump your arms harder, and run just a bit faster. It is exhilarating to know that the monstrosity of a man was putting up such a fight because of you.
Reaching out his hand, you swerve out of the way before he actually touches you. Giggling at the fact that he missed. He growls under his mask, and it causes you to slow enough that he pulls you into his body with body arms.
“You’re not fighting,” his voice is deep on your neck, and your body goes limp. You shake your head no because you didn’t care. The thrill was now gone, and replaced with something more. Lust.
There is something in his voice that was oddly familiar, and your body craved it more than you did. “Mmm,” he sniffs up your neck as his hands roam over your body. Dipping lower, until his hands wrap around your thighs. Jerking them apart, and his hands fully explore between your legs.
“Heaven,” he moans, and you lean your head back on his shoulder. This shouldn’t be as comforting as it is, but you’re prepared to let him have you. It was only a dream after all.
He palms you over your panties, because of course you’re just running around in Bucky’s shirt and panties just like you went to sleep. Letting you get good and comfortable in his embrace before slipping off his glove. His nimble fingers move under the elastic of your panties, and you moan when he enters three fingers into your body.
Giving you no time to adjust before his hand barrels into you. You have to bite onto his neck the harder he pushes. His moans and grunts add to your pleasure.
“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine,” ringing in your ear.
——
Your eyes burst open, and you take a haggard breath. A deep soreness in your core. Your face has been planted in your pillow, and now you struggle to get up. How tense were you in your sleep to cause this much tenderness?
You whimper, twisting your body over, and there lies another rose. This time with a glove. Not just any glove. His. You aren’t dreaming. And you want him. But he’s not Bucky.
You cover your face with your hands allowing the tears you have held in for too long pour out. Rivers of saline drift down your face when Steve rushes to your side, “What is going on?”
“You’ve been here?”
“All night,” he looks to the table, and grits his teeth, “Son of a bitch. Where did that come from?”
“H-h-he had to have left it, but who is he? Steve!” You scream as he storms off. “Steve!” He doesn’t turn back to look at you. “Who is he?”
“I think it’s Bucky,” you shake your head no, but he doesn’t see. “The rose. The glove. I think we found him, but not before he found you,” he spins around to look at you. Covering your face with his hand when everything fades to black.
——
Groggily you open up your eyes, and try to move. Stuck. This isn’t a dream. This shouldn’t be a reality. Roses. Gloves. Bucky. Masked man. Steve. Tied up, and stretched out. What was happening?
There was no way to get out of your predicament. The cuffs on your arms and legs are tight. Keeping you wide and spread for whoever was coming in here. The good thing is you have clothes. For now.
This is so stupid. Steve did this. There is a weird recurring dream, and Bucky is still missing. But Steve said…Bucky found you. Lights turn on into your hellhole of a room and your eyes clench close.
The person in the room inhales deeply before your bed dips down with your weight, and you peek your eyes open, “Steve?”
“You know, you have caused a lot of problems for us,” he begins. His hand taps you on your leg, and you pull it back. Hearing a low rumble outside of the door.
“Us?”
“His mind is just too powerful. Your stupid fucking rose alerted me of just why he can’t complete a damn mission because he keep going to see your pathetic self,” Steve’s hand slams on the bed, and a feral scream echoes into the hall.
“Ahh, shut up! I am not talking to you!” He screams, standing up to open the door, pulling in the masked man, and you retreat away. Being tied up was the moving difficult. “See, she’s not hurt,” the man turns and glares at Steve, pointing a finger at your restraints. “She’ll run away.”
The man shakes his head no, turning to look at you with the softest of eyes, and you know who he is instantly. “What did you do to him?” You pout, and Bucky tries to step towards you
“He’s a weapon,” Steve shrugs his arms. “But you — you invade his mind so much that he can’t even be that. And it wasn’t until he left that fucking pink rose for you that I realized where he was going when he wasn’t on a leash. My god, I should have known. You have poisoned him from the beginning. But I am giving the two of you a gift. I am allowing him to sleep in here with you when his brain isn’t being turned into mush. And when he finally forgets, we’ll dispose of you.”
Bucky growls, pushing Steve up against the wall. His forearm presses into his neck, but Steve laughs maniacally. “I can make you watch as we destroy her. Loosen your grip,” Bucky backs away immediately, keeping a protective stance around you.
“Sweetheart, if I let your precious boyfriend have fun with you, will you try and escape?” Those crystal blue eyes turn to look at you with the most pleading face. He isn’t as vocal as Bucky once was. He looks scared, and you can’t leave him.
“I won’t escape,” your lip trembles. You wouldn’t escape now. But you’re also taking Bucky with you.
“Good. Soldier, have your fun. Pump her full of cum, beat her, fuck her until she passes out, I don’t care. You understand he might not be the man you remember. He’s a machine.”
Steve turns on his heels, walking out of the room, “And you’re a monster. Bucky?” His head tilts to the side as he walks closer to you. Gently undoing your binding, and you sit up in the bed to remove his mask. Your hand presses gently up against his cheek, and you sob out his name.
“I thought I lost you. Won’t you say something?”
He struggles to say your name, and you brush away his hair, crawling into his lap. “It’s okay. I know what you mean. I got your roses. They can’t take away your heart, huh? Just your words,” his gloved hand pets up and down your back, and it infuriates you. “Take that off. I want to feel your skin.”
“Yeah — yes,” he says robotically, removing the material that keeps him from you. His hand touches your back, and you melt into him. He smells different, but that underlying musk of Bucky that was his natural scent is still there.
“Miss — you.”
“I missed you, too. Dreamed about you every night.”
“Not — dream. Me,” sitting back, you look up at him. Giving him the softest chaste kiss. “Me.”
“I did feel you. But you weren’t really chasing me were you?” He shakes his head smiling. “So I was dreaming, and you were touching?”
“Sorry,” his glove free hand pets up and down your sensitive neck before struggling to put it away. Bucky loved feeling his hand around your neck, and now there is a fear to touch you in that way.
“What if,” you lick your dry lips, eyes flitting around his face when you get the courage to speak. “What if I let you touch me? I’m not dreaming, or sleeping. I’m here. Apparently I am your toy to play with, so play. You…you can put me back in the restraints if you need to”
His brow furrows, and he shakes his head no. “You don’t have to hunt me. You don’t have to wait until I’m sleeping, I’m right here telling you I want you to have me. I’m leaving. But not without you. And…we’ll get out of this. We always do.”
Bucky lifts you off his lap to lay flat on the bed. Lifting up his shirt, he cheekily smiles at your covered core before rubbing the shirt in between his fingers. “Mine?”
You pull his hand down to your center. Letting him flatten his hand against you, “Yours,” a deep low growl rumbles up his chest, followed by a sigh. “It’s always been yours, Bucky.”
Sitting back up, you remove his shirt, and he looks over to the corner of the room, cameras. “Let them watch. I just want you,” you shimmy out of your panties, becoming completely nude while he is still in his gear. “However you want me,” you urge him closer. Taking off his other glove so you can weave your fingers in his.
Touch with Bucky has always been electric, and this is no different. He straightens up with your touch. Eyes opening up to show a bit more life to them. Getting to his knees, he undoes his pants, pulling them down just enough to free his cock, and you chirp at the sight of him.
“Yours,” he cocks his brow up, before using his thick body to spread you out further. Grabbing the base of his cock, he flicks your clit with his tip. Over and over again until you’re completely needy and squirming for him. Your arousal leaks out onto the bed, but this Bucky doesn’t stop. He wants to torture you with pleasure.
“Bucky!” Your fingers cling to his forearm as you urge him closer to you, but he still sits there flicking your clit, and teasing your entrance. “Bucky, take it. Take all of me. You already have.”
His breathing stutters, and your eyes blow wide open as he thrusts himself completely into you. Giving you seconds to adjust to his wide girth before he rails into you. There isn’t anything sweet about this moment. You’ve had sweet. This is Bucky reclaiming what was always his. Raw and forceful, and all James Bucky Barnes.
His hands slam above your head onto the bed frame. Wood splinters above your head, creaking under his pressure, but you only see Bucky. Much too dressed for your liking, but it was him. Powerful. Dangerous. Hard. But the softness in his eyes remains.
He is everything that you have ever wanted, and so much more. Even in this state, he is perfect. More than any man could ever amount to. He is Bucky. And he is yours. There is a fearful look on his face now. But he never gave up. He always finds you. He promised you he would, and he kept that promise.
Pulling himself out of you he wraps his arm around your waist, and forces you onto your knees, pushing your head down into the mattress before grabbing at your hips, and cramming himself back inside. You grip tightly to the sheets, centering yourself, and trying to remain present. This was always your favorite position. Letting Bucky use you completely, and it makes you a mess.
Squirting out how good it feels, and he goes harder. The bed lurches with every rock into your body. Eyes rolling into the back of the bed as you thank the stars above for giving Bucky back to you.
“And you think she is going to be the secret?” A man looks over towards Steve who was scowling at the monitor. He hated watching Bucky with you. He never deserved you. And no matter what he did, Bucky always found you. Desperation caused this, and he still found you.
“He’s not fighting anymore, is he?” Steve asks the man. Bucky just wanted you. You were his biggest weakness.
“Maybe he wouldn’t have fought, if you didn’t tease him. What was it you told him? You got to sink into her every fucking night? That you were going to breed her like your little bitch?” Steve shrugs his shoulders, trying to fight his impending hard on.
“I’m guessing you never got to fuck her?”
“It’s more complicated than that. She was only worried about Bucky. She didn’t even think about…I didn’t have time to try because that asshole kept needing to see her, and now she’s here, and…I hate him,” Steve grunts as Bucky smirks up at the camera.
Tilting his head back he lets out a guttural moan as he goes harder and faster than he ever has. Your body is completely flat on the bed now, trembling with pleasure as you look back at Bucky. He is different, and somehow still the same. He is enjoying himself, and your pleasure has always been his.
Hands hold tightly to your ass, spreading you apart so he can watch where the two of you connect. “I love you, Bucky,” your voice is barely audible, but he heard it. Crying out your name as he slams into yourself one last time before his thick cream paints your walls, and you moan at the warmth of his added seed.
“I love you, too,” such sweet sounds coming from him. Slowly he pulls himself out of you, and lifts up your ass, pointing to your gaping hole before looking back at the camera. “Mine. Not yours.”
“Who…who’s watching.”
“Him. Shh, go to sleep. Don’t worry. You’re mine.”
“And you are mine.”
“Forever and…”
“Always,” he would forever be yours. Nothing could ever change that. And nothing ever would.
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Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @missusbarnes-rogers @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @buckybarnesisdaddy @magnificentsaladllama @tittittoee
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cthulhu-calling · 4 months
Text
New Perspective
dark!Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: What happens when you wake up in a bed that isn’t yours, next to a man who was supposed to have gone back to the past?
Warnings: dark fic, dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, smut, rape/non-con, l-bombs, friends with benefits
Author's Note: This is a dark Steve Rogers x f!Reader story. Sit this one out if it isn't for you. Please consider the tags before proceeding, this is your final warning, I am not responsible for the content you consume.
Word Count: 2,216
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Steve Rogers Masterlsit
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“You’re not coming back, are you?” 
He looked down at his feet, not able to meet your gaze. Slowly nodding his head, still not looking up, he reaches out to hold you in his massive, trunk-like arms and you let him. 
You and Steve had always been close, even if he was quite cold and standoffish when you first met. What had started off as a simple and pure friendship had developed into something more dark and dirty.
 In the day, he was your close friend and Captain but at night, he was your refuge. Nights spent with hot, sweaty, limbs tangled in each other, rough fingers tugging at your hair as you drew pleasure from each other’s bodies. 
Your arrangement was unconventional, sure, but it’s how you both liked it. No strings attached, just sex. You both had far too much going on to even consider an actual relationship with someone, so you helped each other out during lonely nights. 
To say you would miss him was a massive understatement but you knew he deserved to be happy. Happy with the love of his life,  Peggy Carter. 
Pulling away, you gently cupped his cheek before brushing your lips lightly against his. “You deserve happiness Steve. I won’t hold this against you, but don’t you dare forget about me.” you whispered as you playfully narrowed your eyes at him, poking a finger at his chest. 
He huffed out a laugh at your poor attempt at jest before pulling you close to him, searching your eyes for something more. 
“Steve, I am happy for you. After all that you’ve done for the world, you deserve a chance at being truly happy,” you said, offering him a genuine and what you hope was a reassuring smile. 
Looking lost, he gently nodded his head before pulling you towards the bed. One last time , you thought to yourself as you gave in to him. 
One last time, or so you thought.
Steve hadn’t meant to fall in love. 
What started out as a simple arrangement  of friendly banter and arguments by day and animalistic fucking by night ended up becoming the most passionate affair of his lifetime, and that in itself was saying a lot.
You were the one for him. He knew it and he believed it was high time you realised it too. 
But you? You were as clueless as they came. It was getting a little infuriating at this point, if Steve was being completely honest with himself. 
It was cute at first. How you would act as if you didn’t realise that he loved you. He bought right into the whole faux innocence act and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him achingly hard and desperate for you. To have you on top of him, your tight little dripping hole stretching to accommodate his thick length as you moan and mewl wantonly. 
But even after months, when you failed to acknowledge how in love with you he was, it started to anger him. How you would have a flirty back and forth with Sam, or brush a perfectly manicured finger against a random stranger’s arm at the pub, bending over slightly while pushing your elbows together to give them an eyeful of your cleavage. All of it made his blood boil.  
So he decided, he had to have you. No matter what. 
He wouldn’t find a more perfect opportunity than this. Under the guise of going to return the stones, he had you believe that he wasn’t coming back, that he was going back to Peggy. Surely, that would make you insecure and you’d beg him to come back, beg him to not leave you. It was foolproof, he was sure of it. 
But when he told you he was leaving, your reaction shocked him. You weren’t desperate for him to come back, begging him to stay back and vowing to do anything to please him. Instead, you were happy for him. 
At first, he couldn’t believe his ears. Surely, you can’t be serious. Did you really not love him? 
He was quick to dispose off that thought though. He was the love of your life and you were his. You belonged with him. To him. He figured that it was all an act, to hide how you truly felt. It was then that he decided to take matters into his own hands. 
That’s how you found yourself in this predicament; groggy and confused, still half asleep in a bed that isn’t yours. Once you realise the bed isn’t actually yours, the bedding a baby pink as averse to the bright yellow of your own with every square inch covered by one too many pillows, you’re alert immediately. Where are you? 
You push the covers off of yourself and just as you’re about to set your feet on the floor, the door at the left corner of the roughly rectangular room swings open, a smiling Steve stepping inside before shutting and locking the door behind him. 
“Morning sleepy head. You’ve been out for quite a while now, almost had me worried there.” he sighed the last part, the eerily hopeful smile still glued to his face. 
You looked around yourself, taking in your surroundings before looking back up at Steve. You were in a room with clean white walls, a huge bed in the centre of the room with two twin nightstands on either side of it. There were no windows, only the door through which he had entered and that too on closer inspection seemed to be made of thick metal, too heavy for anyone without superhuman strength to even try to budge. 
“Where am I Steve? How are you still here?” you asked, you throat scratchy. 
“C’mon honey, sit up straight,” he said as he moved closer to you, holding a tall glass of water to your lips. 
Gulping down the water, you cleared your throat before asking again, “Where are we? How are you still here? I saw you leaving Steve,” you thought out loud, pushing the thick covers off of your body, suddenly feeling their presence suffocating, only to look down and find yourself in a ratty and oversized t-shirt and  boxer shorts, both you were sure you’d seen on Steve at some point in time. 
Steve took in your form hungrily, loving how you looked in his clothes. 
“You need to relax honey. I’ll answer all your questions, but not right now,” he said as he gently pushed you back on the bed, tucking you in. 
“No, I need you to tell me right now. What the fuck’s going on here exactly?” you said, throwing back the covers to move out of the bed but before you can blink, you’re pinned down by Steve’s body. 
“I will not tolerate such language from you. You’re mine and you’re going to do exactly as I say, is that clear honey?” he said almost sweetly but you knew it was all an act to hide how angry he truly was. You saw right through his facade. 
“Yours? Steve, the fuc-“ you cut yourself off on seeing his glare, “I- I uh, don’t get it. What are you on about?” you breathed out.
“No point in pretending anymore my love, I’m only doing what you were too scared to do. I know you love me, I just had to get you to admit it. What better way then a romantic little getaway. No phones, no one but the two of us,” he said in a sort of dazed voice while you just sat there, slack jawed and wide eyed.
“You-you, uh, you’ve lost it! You’ve gone absolutely mental! I don’t love you, and I’m sorry if I made you believe that I did but you need to let me go,” you said while pushing him back and quickly getting out of the bed. 
He grabbed you by your hips, spinning you around and pulling you close so you were right against his chest. 
“Stop acting coy, I know you want me just as much as I want you. Can’t you see? We’re supposed to be together, together forever. And while I won’t tolerate how you spoke to me just now, I’ll let it pass just this once.
“I know you’re stressed love, but you’ve got to accept it. You’re the love of my life. You belong to me. ” He whispered the last part slowly as his hands travelled down to the small of your back, grabbing your ass and squeezing it, making you gasp. 
His lips attacked yours, swallowing all your protests as he slowly guided you back to the bed, pushing you down on it. 
“Give me a chance to prove it to you, make you see how right we feel, together,” he mumbled as he peppered kisses down you neck and chest, occasionally sucking a dark mark, laying his claim on you. 
“Mine, mine, mine,” he kept mumbling as his hand reached to tug down your shorts, deft fingers prodding at your entrance. 
He rubbed his thumb in figure-8’s around your clit, drawing a strangled moan from you. Arms and legs giving up their struggle as you fisted the sheets, pleasure shooting up your spine. 
“Please, Steve,” you moaned breathily and you knew not if you begged for him to stop or for more. 
The cheeky bastard had the audacity to act innocent as he slowed his movements, “Please what, my love?” he asked and you could hear the smug smirk on his face.
“Let me go, please!” you yelled, struggling against his hold with renewed vigour. 
Smack!
“Wrong answer honey,” he growled as he landed another smack on your bare pussy, making you yelp. 
Easily pinning you down, he ran his fingers through your folds before collecting the wetness there, bringing his dripping fingers to your lips. 
“Suck.” he ordered. 
When you didn’t move to open your mouth, he pushed his fingers into the back of your throat, effectively choking you. 
“Bad girls don’t deserve to be prepared beforehand, do they?” he asked condescendingly before he plunged his thick cock into your unprepared channel. 
Immediately setting a punishing pace as his free hand grabbed hold of both your wrists, pinning them above your head. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelching of your drenched pussy only spurring him on. 
“Look at you, dripping for me. You’re enjoying this just as much as me, aren’t you? And yet, yet you deny me of something that can only be right. We belong together, can’t you see?” he said with a low growl. 
You moaned around his fingers, the shame of being close to your climax while he forced himself on you bringing tears to your eyes. 
Letting go of your wrists, he brushed away your tears, driving himself harshly into your dripping cunt, “Don’t cry my love, don’t cry for something you can’t change. We belong together, and I’ll make sure you see it.” 
Making true of his promise, he started pounding into you, deeper and harder, hitting the spot that made your mind go blank, not being able to focus on anything but the pleasure that only his cock could give, that only he could give . 
You let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob as you came undone, clenching down hard on his cock, milking him. 
Grunting as he emptied himself inside of you, he slowly removed his fingers from your mouth, bringing his lips to yours for a rather chaste kiss considering he’d been balls deep in you just seconds ago. 
“I deserve to be happy. You said it yourself, my love. After all that I’ve done for this world, it’s the least I deserve. And we’re going to be so happy,” he mumbled into your ear, more for himself than you as he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, keeping you close to his body as your eyelids started to droop. 
Oh, whatever were you going to do now? 
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