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#dark steve
slothspaghettiwrites · an hour ago
Hiya bestie! Can I request soft dark 40s Steve x wife reader with some housewife kink thrown in🥺🤭
Bestie yes. For you anything.
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Home Run Theatre
Warnings: little bit of misogyny, housewife kink, dub con, risky sexual behaviour in a public place, jealous!Steve, baseball metaphor
It's felt like your life had become a whirlwind since Steve had returned from Europe, your engagement was announced the moment his ship docked, your wedding barely a month later. You promised to wait for him and you had for four long years, it was like he was trying to make for so much lost time. But even then Peggy and Bucky and the government kept him away from you. Most days spent cleaning up after him and cooking what felt like enough to feed the whole block. His suits needed pressed, his dress uniform carefully cleaned, his socks had to matched just right.
The work didn't even include keep yourself presentable and wifely. Steve's eye was critical, able to catch any speck of dust or pleat out of place. His praise was worth the effort, kind words of love and appreciation would pour out him and make you feel like you were glowing.
Tonight, though, Steve promised to take you out to the pictures. You were going to see a film he'd missed while overseas and you couldn't me more ecstatic to go out with your man. Your put on your prettiest dress and nicest heels. Steve guided you through the crowded cinema with ease, the tallest man in room by several inches and the widest. His fame from the war made people stop and stare, but you didn't mind. Steve only had eyes for you.
A gaggle of girls called your name, drawing your attention away from the conversation Steve and another couple were engaged in. It's the gals from down at the machinery factory, you haven't seen them in ages. You break away from Steve, if only for a moment.
"We've missed you," Betty pulled you into a hug.
"Yeah, only you could throw a pitch fast enough to strike out the ladies down at the docks."
"But now you're too busy being Mrs America."
The teasing made your cheeks heat up. It was true, since Steve had gotten home you weren't really able to see anyone really. He kept you busy busy busy. You laughed with them, a bright smile gracing your features. A hand on your waist makes you jump and all attention is turned from you. Steve's features are set in a firm line, not happy but not truly upset.
"I'm sorry, ladies, but we don't wanna miss the show."
He politely excused you, steered you away from the crowd, but instead of taking you into the theater for the film you were supposed to see, he half dragged you up a flight of stairs. The door he was headed towards had a closed sign but that didn't stop him from tossing you into a dark empty balcony.
"Steve what's going on?" You whispered, theater goers beginning to take their seats.
"Who were those women? What's this about ladies at the dock?" His voice was low, heated breath fanning over your face.
"Steve, their just some friends I used to work with, it's nothing. We'd play some baseball on the weekends, we had nothing better to do."
His eye brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, like he didn't believe you. You opened your mouth to speak again, to try an explain, but he put his finger to your lips.
"Oh no, honey, it's not nothing. You are my best gal, my fucking wife," you flinched at his curse, "I don't wanna see or hear a word of you hanging around those lowlifes."
The finger on your lip was shoved in your mouth, along with a second one. He pressed down on your tongue at your panic whimpers. Your eyes darted to the door, then over the balcony as the movie started to play. His fingers began to move.
"You surround yourself with the people I say you can, and those whores are gonna ruin your reputation, our reputation." He looked you, saw the tears in your eyes and little bit of drool in the corner of your mouth, "You're enjoying this aren't you? Those loose friends of yours do more than play baseball with ya?"
You tried to deny it but Steve had worked himself up into a mood, there was not fighting him when he got jealous or possessive no matter how wrong he was. There was little sooth his anger now. His fingers thrusted harder, faster into your mouth, making you gag. He shoved you up against the railing, a shock of fear making you cry out around his harsh treatment. A dark smirk settled on his lips, his free hand travelling up your skirt. You shook your head at him, wishing him to stop. At home this was one thing, but not here, not with all these people around.
"Why don't we play some baseball right now, honey? Let's see if I can get a home run before intermission."
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thedarkknightnews · an hour ago
Review: Teen Titans Academy #4
Review: Teen Titans Academy #4
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buckysbrattybug · 2 hours ago
➸ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐛 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲, 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲, 𝐥𝐞𝐞
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[♡ 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 — ✷ 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 — ❀ 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 — ♞ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 — ✮ 𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐠 — ✧ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 ]
𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀
𑁍 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬
it’s so wrong (but it feels so right) | summary: where you know it’s wrong, but it feels so right. and so you stop fighting him. ♞ ♡
owie | summary: where you hurt yourself and hide it from your daddies. (stucky x reader) ♡ ✮
ungrateful | summary: where bucky punishes you after another failed escape attempt (sambucky x reader) ♞ ✮ ✧
he’s gone | summary: where steve leaves you for peggy and bucky has to pick up the pieces ✷ ✮
mama loves you | summary: where you spend a lazy day in with bucky (little!bucky x mommy!reader) ♡ ✮
big girls don’t lie | summary: where bucky finds out you haven’t been eating and he’s not happy about it, so he takes matters into his own hands ✷ ✮ ♡
such a good boy | summary: it’s bucky’s first time without you when he’s little. steve looks after him for the day. (little!bucky x mommy!reader) ✷ ✮ ♡
where you’re supposed to be | summary: you’re feeling anxious and bucky has to leave you whilst you’re in your littlespace. crying ensues. ✷ ✮ ♡
𑁍 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬
their angel | summary: bucky and steve have their sights set on you to be the third element to their relationship. you’re flawless in their eyes. their perfect angel. how long will it take for you to accept them? (3/?) ♞ ✮ ✧
the baron, baroness and their prince | summary: a collection of fics revolving around a relationship between helmut zemo, bucky barnes and you ♡ ❀ ✮
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀
𑁍 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬
little dove | summary: you’re winter’s little dove. and he’d do anything for you. ❀ ✮
𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀
𑁍 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬
only good girls | summary: where you break charles’ most important rule despite knowing better. he does not take it lightly. ✧
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edith-moonshadow · 6 hours ago
A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words
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Warnings: Dark Billy Hargrove, Mentions Of Oral & Anal Sex, Possessive Billy Hargrove, Obsessive Billy Hargrove, Manipulation, Masturbation, Jealous Billy Hargrove, Stalker-like Behaviour, Top Billy, Bottom Steve
One taste of Steve Harrington wasn't enough. In his dreams he could still taste his skin, feel his body squeezing him tight and remember all his sweet little whimpers. But in the cold light of day, it was slowly becoming a hazy memory, blurred around the edges and slowly becoming relegated to the shadows of his mind. He probably would have forgotten a whole lot more if it weren't for the photographs.
Steve's parents treated him as a spoiled Princess, every little whim was catered to, he never wanted for anything. His room was littered with the artefacts of these passing passions and amongst them had been a state of the art camera.
Billy had been tempted by it when he'd been a visitor a few months before, it felt cold and heavy in his hands when he'd picked it up and with a smile, Steve had jokingly posed for a picture and an idea formed in his mind as the flash illuminated him and the film moved noisily to the next frame.
He put a little growl in his voice, licked his lips slowly, his eyes burning with a little mischief as he sweet-talked Steve into putting on a little show for the camera. His mouth salivating as his pale skin was slowly revealed, flawless with beauty marks of various sizes that he ached to connect with his tongue. With a soft flush to his cheeks, Steve had indulged him, it was his camera after all, with the film safely inside.
He catalogued him in various poses as though he were a priceless piece of art, a feast for the eyes captured for all eternity. He wanted to capture everything about that night, Steve's sweet drunken smile, the pitch of the whine when Billy sunk his teeth into his throat, how his hair felt clasped in his fingers and the desperate way he cried his name when Billy slowly pushed his cock inside.
He couldn't keep these things, they existed only in his mind but a picture was worth a thousand words. He had pocketed the film before he wrapped himself around Steve's sleeping body, his cool skin now warm to the touch as he snuggled into Billy's chest. The morning had been a different story, he had become cold and Billy was left all alone.
He had talked Byers into showing him how to develop film in the school darkroom pushing him out once he knew the process. He spent a long time there watching as ghostly shadows transferred to the empty pages creating beautiful images. A shy topless Steve. Steve's blushing face. His body fully on display, his hand awkwardly floating near his hip as he considered covering himself. Angry indents shiny with saliva in his trembling throat. His face contorted in pleasure as Billy pushed his cock in. His hole slowly leaking Billy's come with Steve's blissed-out face out of focus in the background.
The moonlight streaming in through the window illuminating the photograph in Billy's hand as he slowly stroked his hard cock. The image of Steve gripped tightly in his hand seared in his mind as he slowly came across his fingers adding more creases to the image.
In his mind he could hear Steve's begging voice, his big doe eyes transfixed on Billy as he slowly took him apart. He could feel Steve's soft lips on his, his name whimpered against them as Steve's body fluttered around him. He let his mind wander, took the memory and moulded it to what he wanted.
Steve would welcome all the possessive whispers against his skin, he would beg for his teeth and he would wrap Billy around him and never let him go. Billy would have an entire library of photographs of Steve, Steve happy, Steve showing off whatever new thing he was into, Steve in every position, Billy's cock in his beautiful little mouth while Steve looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, Steve on his back spreading himself open with a welcoming smile on his face and even them together. They would be crystal clear, moments frozen in time to cherish.
Steve wouldn't ignore him anymore, he’d be happy to see him, his eyes becoming soft, that little relieved sigh that he’d seen him direct at her when she said something that reflected his love. That bright smile, his hands wouldn't be able to touch Billy enough, he’d laugh with delight and kiss him gently, passionately and Billy would welcome it all. When it came to Steve he could never have enough.
Billy watched him from the shadows, cataloguing everything, trying desperately to capture it all in his mind. He wished he had enough money to buy a camera, one day he knew he would. In the daylight, Steve was still cold even when his face flushed as Billy whispered into his ear about everything he’d done, how he’d enjoyed it.
Steve averted his eyes with excuses and ran back to her. Billy's hunger grew ravenous and with it, his frustration became unbearable until his mind became hazy with rage. Rejection was a painful pill to swallow.
As the long nights started to brighten and get warmer with summer Billy couldn't wait any longer. Soon the day would outlast the night and his time with the real Steve would diminish. His desperation seeped deep down, down into a dark part of him that refused to be ignored. A quick trip to the school library photocopier with a well-worn favourite. Then he wrote a simple message on the back and slipped it into Steve's locker.
‘Princess, a picture is worth a thousand words.’
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steviesdoll · 10 hours ago
Will You Marry Me?
Soft! Dark! Steve Rogers x Reader
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Summary: You and Steve with best friends since childhood. You liked him very much but just as a friend but what happens when he forces you to marry him? Will your relationship with him ever remain the same?.
Warnings: a little bit of dark Steve, forced marriage,possessive behavior and more to be added in the second chapter.
Pairing :Steve Rogers x reader soft dark Steve Rogers x reader.
A/N: Please don't mind if there is a grammatical mistake just ignore it as my mother tongue is not English 😅.
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It was Sunday evening, you were helping your mother as she was cooking pasta. Then you heard the sound of the doorbell and you rushed to open the door knowing who it was. “Wait Y/N , let me open the door. ”though you wanted to open the door you let your father open it.
You went back to the kitchen where your mother was. You took out the chopper board and started to chop the onion. You were very excited, you couldn't wait to meet your childhood best friend after six months.
You were lost in your thoughts when you heard the familiar voice of your best friend and giggling of your father and younger brother Justin. Your mother went out of the kitchen to greet your best friend.
You followed her out and saw your best friend sitting on the couch beside your brother and laughing at something your father had said.
“Steve ”you greeted him.
Hearing your voice he turned to look at you “Y/N”.He got up from the couch and neared you. You hugged him tight , he hugged you back even tighter .
“How are you Y/N ?”
“I'm fine ”you exclaimed “I missed you. ”
“I missed you too. ”he told with that fianally you parted from each other.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour. ”you told and rushed to the kitchen. This was the first time you felt shy around Steve.
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While having your dinner you were completely lost in your thoughts of your childhood when you spent nights and days cuddled with Steve. You wondered if now you could do the same. Steve got a good job in Paris and you knew that you would see him after months again when he leaves after a week. He would probably meet a beautiful woman there and maybe even forget about your years long friendship. The thought itself made you sad from your core.
You liked Steve very much but just as a friend but the thought of him forgetting about your years long friendship just because of some random woman was sad. It's not because you didn't want Steve to ever get married to someone else, you wanted Steve to be happy but you wanted always be best friends, you didn't want him to forget about your friendship.
“So for how long are you staying here? ”your father asked Steve.
“Just a week. ”Steve told.
“When will you come again ?”you asked curiously.
“With the pressure of my job, I won't be able to come before a year. ”the thought of meeting him after a year made you sad.
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After the dinner Steve bid your parents and was about to leave when you caught his wrists and stopped him from leaving.
“Yeah ”
“Do you have to leave in a week ?” you asked him. You knew that he won't change his plans just because of you but you hoped he would stay a bit longer.
“Yeah I have to doll, work is important. ”he told you “but I won't leave without you. ”
With that he left your house. You wondered what his last sentence meant, he must be joking, right!
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Two days later while you were returning home from work, you saw Steve entering a jewelry shop which is very unusual cause he never buys something for his mom. Truth to be said his mom told him to never buy anything for her.
Maybe he found his best girl. You thought.
You didn't pay much attention to it and just went away. If you were right and Steve already found a girl then you were happy for him. Your Stevie finally found a girl to settle down and if he was happy you were happy.
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When you reached home you knocked the door but nobody answered it. You knocked a second time still nobody answered it. So you knocked four to five times then your brother opened the door.
“Ohhhuhhh... Justin! I was knocking the door from soo long, can't you hear. ”you told annoyed.
“O sorry I was watching TV so I didn't heard.” he pouted.
You entered your house and found your parents not there.
“Justin ”you called for your brother.
“Yeah”he replied.
“Where are mom and dad? ”you asked him curiously.
“They uhh.. went to Steve's house. ”
Why were your parents at Steve's house right now. You thought.
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After a hour your parents returned home you rushed to them and asked that why were they at Steve's house . They didn't replied to your question which was even stranger.
They looked extremely happy so you asked them the reason for their happiness but they told you that you will know in a few days.
“Dad please just tell what's going on? ” you asked him curiously. What is happening?
“You don't have to miss Steve again. ”your dad replied.
“What? ”It was more a question to yourself. You didn't knew what was going on. You were totally confused. “Is he not going back to Paris? ”
“No, it's even better. ”your mother replied excitedly. “You'll know in a few days. ”
Why is everyone acting strange? What is going on? You thought. You'll probably know in a few days.
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After two days when you came back home from work, you found your mom in your room. She was packing your bag.
What is happening?
“Mom! What is happening? ”you asked confused.
“We don't have so much time before the marriage. ”your mom replied.
“Marriage... whose marriage? ”
“Yours, of course. ”
“What mine? When? ”
“Tomorrow ”
“What? With whom? ”
“Steve ”your mom replied.
Now everything hit you the reason for why did Steve told that he wouldn't leave without you. The reason why Steve was at the jewelry shop and why your parents were at Steve's house. The whole time your parents and Steve knew what was going on but they didn't told you. You felt anger inside you which was directed to Steve and your parents.
You quickly took out your phone from your purse and dialed Steve's number waiting for him to pick up.
“What the hell is happening Steve? ”you yelled at him the moment when he picked up his phone.
“Whoa..whoa easy there Y/N.”
“I'm to marry you tomorrow, but why? ”
“Because I love you Y/N can't you see that, I have been in love with you since 8th grade. But you did not see my love. ”Steve replied as if nothing happened. “so I told my parents that I love you and I want to marry you. They were more than happy to hear it so they invited your parents for lunch and told them about the proposal and they didn't had any problem. ”
“Steve you're saying like this is normal. If you ever loved me so you could have told me, asked me out on a date. ”you didn't knew what else to say. “You never thought of what I want my decision doesn't matters”
“Yeah, you're right. Your decision doesn't matters. ”This made you more angry.
“And why so soon? ”you asked angrily.
“Cause I only have a week to stay here and I don't want to wait for another year. ”
“I won't marry you. ”you told.
“You will”he replied before ending the call. There were already tears gathered in your eyes.
Why was Steve doing this? He was your best friend.
Steve's words broke your heart. You decided to tell your parents that you didn't want to marry Steve. When you told them instead of understanding you they scolded you. They told you that the wedding is tomorrow and that there is no going back now. The wedding rings were bought, the wedding dress was decided, your bag was packed and your tickets for Paris was already booked.
You never ever thought in your life that your parents won't care for your decision just because of Steve.
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The next day came too soon. It was 6:00am when your mother woke you up. You completely forgot that today is your wedding. You didn't got up from your bed instead you layed down and covered your face with the pillow.
Your mother took the pillow off you and dragged you out of the bed. She pushed you towards the bathroom and told you to get fresh.
The wedding was small. Only Steve's and your relatives and friends were present .Everyone was happy except you. They thought that your years long friendship with Steve just turned into love. When you told your parents that you don't want to marry him, they thought that you were doing drama cause either you don't want to get married soo soon or you wanted a grand wedding. They told you that it was for your own good.
The reception went as quick as the wedding. You danced with Steve, your father, your brother and some of Steve's friends.
It was 1:00am when you started to feel sleepy. You just wanted to go home and fall asleep but you knew that you can't do that cause the flight was at 4:00am . That's when Steve dragged you towards the car and pushed you in the backseat. You saw your bags being loaded . Then you saw Steve entering the car. He sat beside you and asked the driver to start the car.
“Can't wait to have you for myself alone. ”Steve told excitedly.
“I hate you ”you told with all the rage inside you.
“Ohh don't be like that sweetheart, I know you love me. ”he told pouting “I love you and I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together. ”
You still can't believe why was Steve doing this. He was supposed to be your best friend. You just wanted it to be a nightmare. You never ever thought that your childhood best friend to spoil your life.
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A/N: The end of the part 1 . Don't go on the topic the story is completely different from it. I don't know to give a perfect topic🤦‍♀.
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hawksbabymama · 13 hours ago
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Imagine Mob!Steve and his girl go on a well needed holiday and he just spoils the hell out of you. Wakes you up with soft but rough morning sex and he makes if hard for you to walk straight the rest of the day. You two get a fancy breakfast and a day of some shopping finishing the rest of the lovely day out on a yacht. 💕
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jojjokiwi · 18 hours ago
When this is the summary for ‘Blood must have blood’:
Reader/Jess Harper has already survived abuse and sexual assault by stepbrother Nate Millers, but the reward was a prison sentence for murder at Litchfield penitentiary…
What happens when you/Jess comes face to face with Nate’s old colleagues and friends, Correctional Officers Steve Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, who both seem set on making you pay for your mistakes. Will you be able to survive it all over again?
And this is what @pan-dulce-por-favor does for a trailer...? Is it bad that I’m laughing my ass off over here? #sorryJess
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re-readingcomics · 20 hours ago
Comics Read 6/14-20/2021
In normal times when I buy the first trade paperback in a series and don’t get around to reading it for months I at least try and read it before the second one comes out. These aren’t normal times, and the pile I started recently has two examples of series where I bought a second volume before reading the first, then took weeks to get to both. In both cases I justified this by enjoy the writers’s other work.
This past week I read both volumes of Everything written by Christopher Cantwell and art by I.N.J. Culbard and colors by Steve Wands. It is the second series written by Cantwell for the Berger Books imprint of Dark Horse, the first was She Could Fly. I briefly wrote about it here, and I recently preordered the third volume. Also he contested the excellent tv show Halt and Catch Fire, which I wrote about in my other tumblr.
This is a kind of difficult story to explain. Cantwell mentions his love of Twin Peaks in his introduction to the first volume and between the settings in a small town, the mix of almost saccharine sweetness and disturbing violence I can sort of see it.
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It is about consumerism, and the business practices based on always getting people to by more, which is topical for our period, but it is set during Carter administration, presumably because that’s when the kind of superstore like the one given the series it’s title we’re new. The first seven issues all open with a one page newspaper advertisement for the store that is mostly unsettling. Sometime I unkindly compared Culbard’s work here to Martín Morazzo’s in She Could Fly and other titles, but I really don’t think anyone could have done better with these fake ads.
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Part of the plot involves a combination of blue and orange flowers, which create a color dichotomy that stands our, despite it already being a full color comic. I was very impressed with that and how in general the plot seemed to resist dichotomies. The blurb on the first volume gave the impression that there would be some kind of good vs evil thing with he leading characters of Lori and Shirley. But that doesn’t happen, and I like what does happen a lot more than that suggested set up.
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yourgothicredrose · 22 hours ago
This will keep me going and entertained. I think I was happier with the added officially hand signed art card, by the men themselves Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith
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thran-duils · a day ago
Nowhere to Run (P.2)
Title: Nowhere to Run (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Stony. Reader was caught unknowingly stealing from the capitol harvest and is drug to the capitol for punishment. She is offered an option to go to trial or accept work in the main government building. Upon her tour, she ends up in trouble and catches eyes of two of the Master Council that decide she needs to be broken in by their hands. Words: 6,130 Warnings (for this chapter): Non-con, servitude, forced orgasms, verbal and emotional abuse, double penetration, unprotected sex Author’s Notes: Definitely biting Mother Gothel vibes when Tony says, “No? Oh...” Also, sorry that this got so long but also not sorry.
Part One || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost
The courtyard between the villas was swathed in flowers and shrubbery. Despite how scared you were to be here, you came to a stop in the pathway, looking around in awe. This kind of garden was one you dreamed of to have and lay in, soaking up the sun. Your hands came up to your sheer hood of your robe to push it back — before leaving the Capitol you had been given a robe, a symbol of your assignment. It was white and embroidered with flowers and upon seeing the garden, you spotted the flower it was based off of. You had not seen it in any other part of the Capitol yet and surmised it was specifically here and therefore, the reason for the embroidery choice. It was deep blue, weaving in vines around the pillar. You reached out, rubbing one of the petals between your fingers gently.
Tsu snapped his fingers in your face, getting your attention once more.
“We don’t have a lot of time. The Masters are in a council meeting, and they’ll be expecting you to be settled in and starting your tasks by the time they return. Now I was told you will be assigned primarily to Master Rogers and Master Stark.” He leaned in close and hissed, “And please heed my warning: obey. They are not known to be forgiving.”
He looked serious and you nodded, “Noted.”
“I hope so. They won’t be lenient about back talk. Do not repeat what you did at the capitol building.”
Tsu turned on his heel and continued on, taking a path towards one of the villas. “This is Mr. Roger’s.”
It infuriated you that they all had such large houses just to themselves. Many around the country shared the houses with multiple families and they were nowhere near the size of these.
And being inside, you were even more upset seeing how lacking homeliness there was to the place. It was all marble flooring, minimalist, and cold, really. He gave you direction about the rooms, nodding in acknowledgment when you passed a couple of other servants. They nodded quickly back before moving on to continue their tasks. Your eyes lingered on the large, canopied bed in the master bedroom. Why someone needed that big of a bed just for themselves was beyond you. But the Capitol was greedy, and it was so because of the council members living above their actual needs.
Your mouth watered as you were led to the kitchen; dinner was being prepared and it smelled delicious. The cook himself was skinny and you wondered if he was ever rewarded with the fruits of his labor. You were to attend to the morning tasks specifically and the cook showed you where the coffee was — a delicacy that apparently Master Rogers enjoyed every morning — and where he would leave the prepped food for you to cook for breakfast. On top of preparing his outfit for the day to lay out and getting his toiletries ready for after his shower.
“Am I to do the same at Master Stark’s as well?” you asked Tsu, who nodded. “How can I be expected to be in two places at once? Who is first?”
“They will work that out amongst themselves and inform you. Come now, over to Master Stark’s. Apparently one of his maids has fallen… under the weather.” You furrowed your brow at the hesitance and Tsu leaned in, “We shan’t expect to see her for probably nine months.”
You felt bile swirling.
“It happens from time to time with the Master’s maids. Why, Master Wilson had one just last month.”
“Charming. I’m so glad that’s a common occurrence that no one bats an eye,” you muttered.
Tsu wagged his finger at you, “That’s that attitude I was talking about. I’m not going to be here to remind you to keep it reined in. You’re gonna have to do it yourself.”
Master Stark’s house was across the courtyard. His house was just as unwelcoming and darker in interior design. There were many sky lights, a huge one over his sunken living room. You stepped down, looking at the plush couch and the large flat screen mounted on the wall. Again, so much space for just one person. His bedroom was facing the forest with a bed as large as Master Roger’s and you walked along the windows, staring out as Tsu led you to show you the master bath. You stared at the shower, taking in the floating shower head above and the wooden bench along the wall. That must be relaxing.
“Servants quarters are downstairs. There’s some in every villa. I’m not sure which one you’ll be in but again, they’ll let you know.”
He was leading you back through the hall, pointing out an office and a library. You stuck your head inside the library curiously, your mouth falling open at the walls of books. Back home, you had the pleasure of a collection, but it was not even a quarter of this.
“Come on, Y/N. We don’t have a lot of—” he stopped hearing noise downstairs, the front door slamming it sounded like.
“Matilda!” A man bellowed.
“Shit. He’s back already,” Tsu hissed before grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the library.
Coming along the exposed hallway, you looked past the glass railing over the living room. A woman was in front of who you assumed was Master Stark. He was sneering at her already, “You forget yourself, Matilda. I told you to have my bath ran by the time I returned. Perhaps missing dinner will be in order for you.”
“I’m sorry, master,” she said looking nervous, her head bowed.
Master Stark was dark haired and handsome. He was dressed smartly in a fitted suit, you still able to make out the tautness of his body. The movement at the stairs caught his attention. He took his sunglasses off seeing the pair of you coming down the stairs.
“Master Stark,” Tsu greeted as you approached. He gave a curt bow, and you followed his lead.
Chestnut eyes followed your movement, and you did your best to avert your own gaze. You instead looked at the other woman, seeing the red in her cheeks at being berated.
“I was just showing Y/N around yours and Master Roger’s homes to get her acquainted.”
“Right. The new wench,” Master Stark remarked. You bristled at the term ‘wench’ and shot him an annoyed look. His lips twitched seeing your expression before you averted your gaze again, knowing you had let your temper get the better of you. “Leave us. I can take it from here.”
Tsu nodded and gave another bow. “Good day, Master Stark.”
He left without looking back and you suddenly felt vulnerable without him.
“Girl, come to me,” Master Stark said, snapping his fingers at you like you were a pet. To Matilda he ordered, “What are you still doing standing there, you idiot? Get upstairs and start my bath! Do you wish to miss breakfast as well?”
“No, sir,” she said shaking her head and turning to go up the stairs you had just come down hastily.
You closed the space between the two of you, standing a foot from him, your arms clasped in front of you.
“You were told you are to prepare my clothes and breakfast later in the morning than Steve’s?”
Steve must be Master Rogers.
“Yes, sort of,” you responded in a timid voice.
“Speak up. Muttering annoys the absolute fuck out of me.”
“Yes,” you rose your voice. “But I was unsure which house to be at first. Thank you for answering that for me. What time do you want me here, Master Stark?”
He sighed, “Steve is always up at the asscrack of dawn. Usually about five.” You held back at a grimace knowing you would need to be awake well before then yourself then. “I don’t usually get up until eight. That gives you a couple hours at least at his place beforehand. And you know, before this goes any further, let me see you. Strip.”
“Excuse me?” you asked mortified.
“Did I stutter?” Tony asked dryly. “Untie your dress.”
Tony’s eyebrows rose, “‘No’?” He looked sinister, “Oh…”
“No, I mean you didn’t stutter,” you said quickly, trying to correct your misstep.
Amusement was still evident; he did not believe your lie. “Well, get to it then. As I’m sure you heard, I have a bath running and I would like it to be hot.”
Heat creeped up your neck as you reached up and untied the fabric at the back of your neck. He circled slowly, his fingers brushing at your side. You flinched away instinctively, and his hand latched tightly.
“Did I give you permission to move?”
“No,” you whispered.
“What did I tell you about speaking up? Are you daft?”
“No,” you said louder.
“Good girl,” he said, his hand loosening.
It was one thing to have him examining you like cattle at auction but touching you on top of that was humiliating on a whole new level.
His lecherous examination continued, his fingers following his circle he walked on your skin. He traced down from the nape of your neck to the curve of your ass. His fingers fluttered down and gave a squeeze. You sucked in your cheeks, tensing, but you did not say anything like you had at the Capitol. He held, as if he was waiting. When you stayed still, he made a hum of approval before he moved on.
Fingers ghosted along your shoulder. He was so close; you could feel his breath on you. He was frightening, his presence ominous. You fought to keep your eyes forward and not meet him. You had a feeling that would result in punishment.
He stepped away from you, his hand thankfully gone.
“You’ll do,” he said dismissively.
‘You’ll do’? That was more hurtful than outright telling you that you were not up to his standards. Or was he playing mind games?
“Dress yourself. Before you head over to Steve’s, go and straighten up my library. I had young Master Parker over earlier and he has a terrible fucking habit of not putting things back. I like authors by their last name. Don’t fuck it up, do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.”
You awoke at 4:30am and dragged yourself from your small cot. You took on the friendly advice given to you by the other servants to use the small glow stick like device to light your way without turning on the actual lights. There was no need to rouse Master Rogers from sleep before he awoke himself; that would piss him off.
Picking up your list that had been left by one of the head servants, you saw you were to pick out his outfit, sort his toiletries, mop the kitchen floor – where were those supplies? – prepare his coffee and breakfast, and lay out his newspaper for him. And wait for further instruction if there were to be any. The only order for his outfit was ‘casual’.
Master Rogers – Steve – was sleeping soundly still. You stared at his form for a few seconds, his muscular arms and chest that were exposed from his silk sheets. He was a large man, handsome too just like Master Stark, with a strong jaw. His blonde hair was splayed across his forehead from his tussling in the night. You were given little to no instruction for his clothing, and you went into his closet blind, holding up the small light you were holding. His room was shrouded in darkness from the curtains being pulled and you were grateful you had brought the light.
In his closet, you fetched a relaxed top and a soft cardigan with slacks. That was as casual as it was getting in his selection of clothes. You kept the hangers and brought them soundlessly out to his bathroom door, hanging them up. You went inside and began gathering the toiletries listed and separated them between the counter near the sink and his shower.
Down in the kitchen, you made first to find the mop and thankfully, it was in the pantry. It was fairly easy to mop the floor, that you were used to. But after that, you stared at the oven before clicking a button you thought was the correct one. It came to life. This was far more technological than you had dealt with, but you had to figure it out. You wished you had had more time with Tsu or the cook yesterday. It took you a moment to figure out where the skillets were, but you were able to get his bacon started and his eggs. His coffee was more difficult than you thought originally. He wanted a latte. You followed the instructions to make an espresso and then whisked the milk, pouring the espresso over it.
As if on cue, you placed the latte next to his plate on the counter as instructed next to his newspaper, and he walked in.
His eyes ran over you, and you gave him a curt bow as Tsu had done for Master Stark. “Good morning, Master Rogers.”
“We haven’t met,” he responded, coming over to his plate and grabbing his newspaper.
“Y/N, sir.”
“Hmm, right. I remember you.”
He remembered you from what?
“I’m to help you in the morning. I hope my outfit choice was appropriate.”
Steve looked down and shrugged half assedly. “It’s comfortable enough.”
Holding back your attitude, you asked, “Is there something I can do different in the future that will please you more?” His eyes flashed lasciviously, and you quickly added, “In regard to your outfit, I mean, sir. Just so I know what to choose.”
“I’m not sure I can teach a mountain girl anything about fashion on a whim. So, just watch the rest of the masters and the council members outfits. I don’t have the energy to try to explain it to you. I’m sure this long, halter gown is the fanciest thing you’ve worn and it’s merely a villa servant’s dress.”
How you wanted to knock him a good one for being so crass. It must have been evident in your expression because his eyes crinkled as he picked up a bite of his eggs, taking a bite.
“Did I strike a nerve?”
“No,” you blatantly lied. “How are your eggs, sir?”
“Fine, surprisingly. You made them quite fluffy.”
Steve’s hand moved in what seemed like a very deliberate movement, knocking his cup, and it fell to the floor. Ceramic shattered and his latte flooded around it.
You bit your cheeks to keep from screaming, staring at it. You had just cleaned the floor.
“Oops,” he said flatly, not sounding sorry at all. “Why did you place it so close to the edge?”
He was saying it like it was your fault. This pompous asshole. But you inhaled deeply.
“I’ll make you another one,” you told him calmly although you were screaming internally. He was not going to get a rise out of you that quickly and that easily. Tsu had warned you to obey and you were not going to risk being beaten or worse – time added to your sentence – over spilled coffee.
“Another one…?” He asked expectantly.
“Master Rogers,” you said stiffly.
You bent over and began picking up the shattered pieces first. Scooping them up you brought them over to the trash can and tossed them in.
Turning back around, you caught sight of him staring, his eyes focused on your hips before he met your gaze. He looked aroused and you knew he had been staring at your ass as you were bent over. Nonchalantly, he cleared his throat and looked back down at his newspaper.
You felt relief surprisingly when he said, “I’m sure Tony will be coming back from the land of the dead soon enough. You should hurry over there.”
You cracked Tony’s door open and quietly slipped in. You saw two figures in the bed as you crept by towards his closet. You used the natural light coming in from the windows to guide yourself through the closet. He had said dark grey for his color scheme, so you did your best, matching the jacket, vest, and slacks but a white dress shirt. The socks and tie you chose were burgundy, a contrast. He had not asked for that, but you would see how that worked.
Quietly, you came back out of the closet and stilled when you saw someone slipping out of the bed. You recognized her in the light… Matilda. She stopped only for a moment, locking eyes with you before snatching her dress off the ground and bringing it up and tying it around her neck. She sneaked out of the room, more than likely going to start her chores. So, he forced someone he verbally abused to his bed.
Gently you walked over to the bathroom and hung up the clothes on the outside of the door. You moved inside and got together the materials the same you had for Steve and put the appropriate ones in the shower and by the sink.
When you emerged, Tony was stirring, and you moved quicker to get out of the room before he was fully awake.
But to no luck.
“Morning, little vixen.”
You stopped in your movement and turned back to face him, clasping your hands. “Good morning, Master Stark. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
His lips up ticked into a closed smile, “I’m sure it is time for me to be awake if I find my bed cold. Night is over and consequently the fun.” He threw the covers back and got back out of bed unabashedly of his naked form. Your eyes widened at his brazen behavior, all of him on display. You turned your head, avoiding looking at him and he chuckled. “You’ll get used to seeing this.”
Tony moved towards the door and eyed the suit choice. He shot you a look and said, “Look at that slight boldness of color. It’s subtle against the neutral but it’s nice. Good choice.”
He winked at you before going into the bathroom. You took that as permission to leave to start his breakfast.
The whole first day you had put up with both of their antics. They were trying your patience and it was getting to you. You had never crossed two more pretentious men and they were so insulting to their staff. Steve had called you “pigheaded” for placing his newspaper on the right instead of the left of his plate this morning and you wanted to just tear it up in front of him.
You were currently in Tony’s office waiting instruction. There had been a task after breakfast to clean his office and before you started, you wanted more direction, so you did not make a mistake.
He walked in finding you still standing still, and he asked, “You know, to clean, you need to actually be moving?”
“My instructions said to dust but I was not sure what I should touch and not touch, Master Stark. I was waiting for you to give me direction so—”
He cut you off, “When it says dust, just dust. But, you know, I’m actually glad you waited so you’ll be in here longer.” He stalked over to his desk and opened one of his drawers, pulling out a box. He unwrapped it and you watched him pull out a pair of lace, barely there panties. Your heart clenched – he surely did not mean to give those to you? He placed a small device into the crotch of them and held them out to you.
“What’s that?” you asked slowly, not moving.
“I like some entertainment while I work,” Tony commented. “Put them on. They’ll be a snug fit, right up against what I’m sure is a beautiful pussy.” You stared back at him, and Tony returned a challenging look. “Are we going to have a problem?”
At loss for words, you stammered, “I… for what?”
“A problem ‘for what’? Yeah, that’s exactly what my question is. There should not be a problem when I tell you to do something directly. Come over here and fetch them and put them on,” Tony ordered you impatiently. “Before I lose my temper.”
As if you were moving against your own will, your legs moved forward, and you came to the desk. You reached up underneath your gown, his eyes raking over your exposed bare legs. Yanking down your underwear, you tossed them to the side by the desk and took the underwear from him. Hunger was swimming in his eyes, and you swallowed sharply. He was right; they were snug, the protruding part right up against your bud.
He clicked a button on the small remote and the underwear turned on. You grimaced your teeth as you felt the vibration, if only for a few moments.
Tony looked elated at the expression on your face. “Sweetheart, if you can dust everything here without coming, I’ll be so proud.” He leaned forward and winked, “But I’m going to make you work for it. Our work meetings are so boring, and I enjoy watching you women fighting against an orgasm.”
You hated this. You were to clean his office and he was going to be brushing your cunt with his toy.
He picked up the glass by his desk and opened the mini fridge, pulling out the ice cubes. He clunked some into his glass and poured some water over the top of it. Settling back into his chair he eyed you, waiting.
Swallowing your pride, you turned from him and began at the far end at the stacked bookcases. You shuddered as the panties worked at your clit, longer this time. He did not hit the button at regular intervals, so it caught you off guard every time. You would be holding a porcelain figurine and clench it, hoping to God you would not drop it. You were bound to break something the closer you got to coming undone. He was continuing on with his virtual meeting as if nothing untoward was happening to you. You bent to grab a book that had fallen off the shelf and he hit it again. You snapped back up and exhaled sharply, clenched as it vibrated relentlessly against you. You gave the book a quick brush over before placing it back on the shelf. You took a step and he hit it again.
Having had enough, you turned around and hissed, “You’re distracting me. How am I to work, Master Stark?”
He muted his microphone on his computer and blocked his camera before turning in his chair towards you. You saw the bulge in his pants and that only served to make you more upset with the situation. How much he was getting off on this was unbearable.
“That’s kind of the point of this. But, really, you’re distracting me, little vixen. With your hips and those soft sighs leaving your mouth every time I press the toy. It’s very beguiling,” Tony argued, relaxing back in his chair. You heard the ice clinking in his drink as he brought it to his lips. “And I’ll distract you however much I want to. Don’t you forget that. Get back to work. Now.”
He clicked his microphone and camera back on, resuming his meeting. His fingers were tapping the remote that was lying on the desk, teasingly. Pissed, you turned back.
It buzzed again only moments later, and you clenched, squeezing your thighs together as you brushed the bookcase.
“Ah ah. Naughty girl. Let me in,” Tony intoned, and you loosened. He took the opportunity and hit you again with stimulation.
You let out a frustrated noise and threw the duster onto the ground.
“Fuck this!” you exclaimed.
Tony hit the hide and mute on his computer quickly at your outburst, caught off guard. You got a small satisfaction out of that in the heat of the moment that you had thrown him off his game.
He turned towards you again, looking furious. That did nothing to throw water on your temper. You hastily tore the underwear off and threw them in his general direction. Tony’s eyes followed the descent of them to land at his black oxfords. “Send me back! I’ll take on an extra month — six even if I can just be back in the capitol building! This is torture!”
Tony drug his gaze from the panties back to you. His elbow was still resting on the arm of the chair.
Chest heaving, you watched him and slowly felt the dread creeping in. His eyes were hard, and you remembered who exactly you were dealing with. He had all the power in this relationship, and you had just lost your temper with him, outright disobeying something you had been ordered to do. And you may have embarrassed him in front of other Capitol council members in your outburst.
Tony stood from the chair and stalked over to you, peering down his nose at you. His voice was dangerously low when he said, “Go up to my bedroom and wait there for Steve and I. On the bed. Naked.”
Naked? You gulped.
Even you knew better than to argue with him with that scathing glare. You slunk away and you felt his glare burning into the back of your head as you closed the office door behind you.
Curled in on yourself, you waited. It seemed to drag on forever, the waiting. You just wanted them to come up and belt you and get it over with.
When the door opened, you dared to raise your gaze, finding the both of them coming in. Their jackets, vests, and ties were gone. The top buttons of their dress shirts were undone, apparently have relaxed before this. Tony must have called Steve to his office and relayed to him what had transpired between the two of you.
You were doing your best to try to keep your breasts hidden, your legs crossed to hide yourself as well.
Tony came to a stop in front of you and he held out two fingers, pulling your chin up to force you to look at him directly. His stare was cold.
“You really pissed me off earlier,” he informed you point blank.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“I’m sure you are now. At the time, I know you meant every little ounce of venom you spat at me. And that I won’t abide. And neither will Steve. What goes on in one villa, goes on in the other. You will be well behaved in both.” When you did not say anything, his hand came to clench your jaw and you winced as he forced your mouth open as he mocked in a higher pitched voice, “’Yes, master. I understand’.”
“Yes, master, I understand,” you repeated, wincing against his tight grip.
“And we’ll make sure that sticks. We are in charge here,” Tony told you, letting go of your face and going to work on the rest of his buttons.
You had hardly noticed Steve had undressed himself to his briefs. You had been so focused on Tony’s imperious presence before you.
Steve was holding the panties you had thrown at Tony earlier. You felt sick as he told you, “Let me put these on you and don’t make it difficult.”
No. They were not going to beat you like you feared. They were going to do worse. Matilda came to mind being in Tony’s bed when you knew that was the last place she would have wanted to be and your eyes shot to the door before landing back on Steve who was coming close now.
Freeing himself from his boxers, Steve’s hand ran up and down his length. You cowered back, crawling back on the bed, tucking your feet to come onto your knees. You did not want to be in here. He smirked seeing your fight or flight kick in.
“Sweetpea, you know that’s not an option. Come back.” You tensed, shooting another quick look at the door. Steve’s expression melted from amusement to annoyance. “Now.”
You unfolded slowly, coming back to the end of the bed, your heart hammering. You had had sex before, but it had only been with the boy next door, the one you had thought once that you would marry before you had been brought here. Not like this. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you sat still as you could to let him slide them up and you allowed him to pull them all the way up. You spotted Tony still had the remote, a wicked grin on his face.
Steve was jutting out towards you, and you stared down at his length.
“Your hand,” Steve told you. “Wet it with your mouth.” You shakily did as he asked and he ordered, “More spit.” You did that as well. “Touch me.”
You felt humiliated but you did what he asked. He was thick and your hand slid up and down his length, wetting him with your spit. He moaned softly, his hips moving ever so slightly as you continued to stroke him off. The underwear vibrated and unlike before, they were not turning off. Tony was not giving you any reprieve. You tried to adjust so the movement was not directly on your bud but no matter what you tried, it was right there, and some angles made it worse, causing you to shiver at the direct contact. You caught Tony’s eyes and he was watching with heightened arousal, his erection evident in his slacks.
Steve was leaking precum in no time and you were short of breath with the stimulation on your cunt. You had shot a look at Tony finding him naked now, working himself up at the scene before him. You were getting the panties so wet and you wondered if that was going to affect the toy.
It reached a moment when Steve had had enough of just your hand. He stopped your movement and tossed your hand aside. You leaned back as he towered, his hands snatching at the sides of the panties and yanking them down your legs roughly, tossing them aside. You barely had time to react before he was picking you up in a fluid motion. You yelped at the airborne movement as he dragged you onto the bed with him. Steve laid down and pulled you in top of him, your hands planted by his head. His cock slid in with ease to your wet pussy, his lips sucking at your breasts.
The bed dipped with Tony’s added weight, and you heard him adjusting in between Steve’s legs, his hard cock brushing up against your tight ring. You realized fully what he was aiming for when his thumb met your ass and it was cold, covered in lube. You felt him squeeze some into you.
Having their way with you in your pussy was one thing but this was something else entirely, especially since Steve was already inside you. You had never had anal sex, let alone two men in you at once. This was their punishment.
Desperately, you begged, “Please don’t!”
Steve’s laugh was cruel. “‘Please don’t?’ Me? I’m not doing anything, darling. I’m just sitting here. Fully...seated... inside your tight cunt just enjoying it.”
You tried to look over your shoulder at Tony, “Master—"
But Steve grabbed your face and forced you to look back at him. “Relax…. Relax….” he breathed encouragingly. “You don’t want it to really hurt do you?”
There was no time for you to answer him as Tony started pressing in. It burned and you cried out. Steve was whispering in your ear to encourage you to relax, telling you to be a good girl. You choked on a cry, tears stinging as Tony continued to sink into your ass. You were so full.
“Aw, she’s crying, Tony.”
Tony sloppily kissed your temple, his hand tight on your throat. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. You’re doing so well! Taking it like the little whore we knew you are. Take your punishment… you’ll be loving it in no time.”
He pulled out slowly before pushing back in, keeping a slow steady pace. You breathed, trying to focus on the way it was subsiding to pleasure. You sniffled, hanging your head as he continued using you, Steve still waiting inside. You were sure their cocks were brushing each other in that thin membrane.
“Well-behaved now too. Just gotta fill her with cock to train her. Make her needy,” Steve rasped. “Tell us how much you like it, you little slut.”
It was an order. And you were just a rag doll between them right now; what other choice did you have but to comply?
You could not lie to yourself either, you were being stimulated to a whole new level.
“I love it,” you breathed shakily, a sharp whine escaping as you felt them both rocking in and out. They had a rhythm going, like they had done this before.
Steve continued with his dirty talk, “You want it? You wanna be fucked?”
“Yes, I want it. I wanna be fucked.”
Tony groaned at your declaration, slapping across your ass as you rocked between them. The reverberation sent a tremor through you, further stimulating you.
Steve bit roughly at your nipple and you yelped. His breath was hot as he growled, “You wanna be used like a perfect doll. Right? You wanna behave? Because if you don’t we won’t finish.”
Every nerve was on fire, and you were losing yourself to the feeling. No, they had to finish.
You nodded fervently, “I wanna behave. I wanna behave.”
“You know how lucky you are to be filled? What women would beg to be in your spot? You should be thanking us!”
“Thank you for filling me up,” you cried as Steve buried himself roughly. The shame of your pleading and groveling was overshadowed by every brush of their cocks inside you, pushing you towards the edge to come tumbling down.
They were working you like the doll Steve promised you were going to be. Your breath was short, and you were beginning to shake on your arms.
You heard Tony groan, “There you go, there you go. Fuck!”
“I got her Tony,” Steve grunted, holding you tight as broken cries left you. “I’ll hold you, sweetheart.” You trusted him in your delirious state and collapsed against him as your body gave way. You shouted, stuffing a fist into your mouth. Steve yanked your hand away and you cried out. “Let us hear what we’ve done to you, you naughty girl.”
Steve held you in place as Tony sped up, thrusting quick. You continued moaning with the heat tearing through you.
“You’re gonna take every fucking drop,” Tony husked. “Perfect little cumslut!”
He groaned animalistically, his cum emptying into your ass. You sighed relieved and buried your face into Steve’s collarbone. Tony slid out and you whined pathetically feeling him spill out onto your thighs.
“Almost done, doll. You’re taking your punishment perfectly, shaping up so well,” Steve kissed along the side of your face. “Tony, you did nothing to help me stalling myself with those hard thrusts of yours. Felt every rib of your dick, you bastard.” You heard Tony chuckling as Steve resumed his own thrusts. You whined, so sensitive but he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, and he was finishing soon, spilling his seed into your aching pussy. He gave a few more lazy thrusts before he picked you up and rolled over to drop you onto the bed.
You laid there exhausted, bare in the center of the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath.
Steve was pleased. “I love that gaped, cum filled look. Especially on her.”
They sounded a million miles away, you still drowning in what had just happened.
Tony came into your sights, and you turned your head towards him, exhaustion in your bones. “Gather yourself and then come join me in the shower. I’ll give you that before you come back out here and strip my bed to clean the sheets. Can’t keep you off your duties for too long, can we? I won’t be giving you special treatment no matter how well that perfect ass of yours just milked me.”
He turned before stopping and then he added, “By the way, I will not be sending you back to the Capitol building. If we have our say, you won’t be going home any time soon.”
Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx
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bonky-n-steeb · a day ago
𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬:  Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?
𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦:  psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.
ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ
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You both were sitting in his balcony, overlooking the gardens. You didn’t want to wake up Iris. So, you both decided to go somewhere else and talk. Sitting on a swing, you were just breathing the fresh air in. The silence was very warm and comfortable.
“So...?” You decided to break the silence. “Nothing really, I just wanted to talk like the old times. About nothing in general.” He scoffed at that. “I missed you.” He spoke. Steve looked at you just the way he used to years before. Just that back then you used to look down while now you were craning your neck.
You gave him a pained smile. “I missed you too.” You didn’t dare look in his eyes for you feared what you might see. You stared straight ahead. “The garden is beautiful. Your gardener has done a great job.”
“He sure has.... are you okay? You want to tell me something? You seemed pale when you came up.” He said looking at you expectedly. You debated whether to tell him. Should you?
“Nothing really. Told you, i ran all the way up. Didn’t want to disturb anybody.” You shrugged. You had a feeling he knew you were lying, but gladly he didn’t drag it. “So... how’s Bucky? I mean...” your eyes widened. It was the last thing you expected him to say.
“He’s... I don’t know. The shadow of the man he once was.” There was no point in lying. You had irresistible urge to ask about what happened to the drug addict but you didn’t want to know the answer.
“Was he like this from the... I wanted to ask you the day we met. I saw... I saw your neck.” He confessed feeling guilty somehow. He had noticed the marks on your neck but hadn’t asked. As he didn’t need to, he knew what had happened. He just wanted to hear it from you.
“Oh... that, no. He wasn’t like that before. He was kind and caring and everything I ever imagined and more. And then... then I don’t know what happened. Maybe I do...” you gulped at the thought of the Soldat.
“That was the only time he hurt me. Not once before had that happened.” You weren’t meeting his eye and he noticed that. “You want to share something? You know your secret would be safe.”
You desperately wanted to tell him about the truth but you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk his life. The information was too confidential. “Not really.” You pressed your lips together.
Both of you didn’t speak for a while. “You know, I did come to see you after that day. I used to visit the park every day in the hopes of seeing you. I used to stand near your house. Hell, I even went to your school once. I didn’t see you but I met your bullies. They told me you had beat the shit out of the leader. Not gonna lie, I was impressed.”
She chuckled at that, “I was super mad that day. And that idiot decided to bully me, and I swear to god the rush I felt while hitting him. The whole school had gathered.”
It was the day right after you had left him. He had been sitting alone and eating his lunch. Too bad the bullies decided to piss him off. But it wasn’t their day. He had removed all his anger and frustration on them. His father had been proud of him that night. He had known that his son was capable of handling the business.
“Also.... I know that you wanted to see me.” You turned around with shock. “But I didn’t see you anywhere.” At that he shook his head. “I was always behind you. And it’s not metaphorical. I was always a few feet away at the park. I saw how you used to search for me. I used to sit in my window and see how you expectantly stood at the tree near my house. And I even saw you standing outside my school. I purposely missed you.”
“Why Steve? I... I wanted to apologise. You could’ve just met me once.” Your eyes were wet with unshed tears. “I couldn’t see you walk away from me again. You were the only person I wanted to believe me; in who I was and not my father.
I never told you about my family not because I wanted to lie, but because I wanted you to like me; a skinny idiot boy who couldn’t protect himself. I wanted to be my own man, and you were the only one who helped me. Others were too busy trying to groom me into a man I’m not.
That day, I had a little hope you would choose me; Steve, not the son of Joseph Rogers and neither Bucky. But you didn’t even take a second before leaving me. I wasn’t even an option for you. I felt as if... I didn’t even matter to you.”
“That’s not true. You meant a lot to me. You still do” You said holding back tears. “You didn’t even give me a chance to prove myself. To prove you I wasn’t like my father. To prove you that I would...” he quickly stopped himself before saying that he would love you more than Bucky.
“Forgive me Steve, please. I know I did a mistake. I should’ve at least reconsidered. I punished you for a crime you hadn’t committed. I left you for your father’s crimes. I shouldn’t have done that.” You said sobbing.
“Some days I wonder that maybe I would’ve been a different man if you had chosen me.” He didn’t want to guilt trip you, but he wanted to make you feel enough guilt that you would lean in to him for support. So that your guilt wouldn’t let you leave him this time.
“Hey, no more crying. Now that we’ve finally met once again, we can make up for all the time we missed.” He took your chin between his fingers and raised your head. “We can be best friends just like we were that day. And I know, some parts of our soul are still untainted like they were years ago.”
“Steve... I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve done so much for me. I...” you choked up and cleared your throat. “I don’t know what I can do for you. But I... I need to leave tomorrow.” His eyes widened.
“The hell you are. You are staying here and not leaving. This is the only way you can repay me.” You were sure he used his mob boss voice at you.
“Steve, me staying here is not safe. Not for you, not for George, not for anyone else. I need to go before Bucky comes...”
“Why are you worried? Do you know how many of us are there? We can easily subdue Bucky if it comes to it.”
“No, you can’t! I’m not doubting you. But you have no idea what Bucky is capable of. He has killed Presidents with high level security, killing me in your house won’t be a big task for him...” you instantly but your tongue.
“He has killed what?” Steve asked. “You never heard that, Steve. Please for your own good. I never said anything. I’m leaving Steve that’s all.” At that he gripped your arm.
“You are not. I don’t care what he has done. I won’t let him harm you; I promise you. But if you leave, he’ll get you sooner and you’d be helpless.” You still weren’t agreeing.
“You’ve done so much for me Steve. I wouldn’t be able to live if something happened to you, or your family or your people. Bucky is as it is prejudiced against you. I...”
“Don’t think about yourself, think about Iris. Here she has a comfortable roof and she is safe. Where would you go with her? Stay here, please.”
He was right. “Okay. I... Stevie you are the best.” His heart melted at that. You finally called him Stevie. You hugged him and he held you tight. “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask me two.” You happily replied. “What does Bucky do exactly? I know he is not in the military...” you peeked you from his embrace, “Something nobody should be doing.” You replied.
He didn’t ask further. “You still wanna tell me why you were so flustered.” You cursed Steve in your head, why did he have to know you so much. “Umm, no.”
“Alright, wanna have donuts?” You quickly nodded. And like the old times you both enjoyed your donuts. What Steve didn’t tell you though, was that he knew. He had walked up the same route as you and he had heard Wanda and Vision, too. It wasn’t a secret; it was a part of their marriage deal as long as he didn’t get her pregnant.
Steve just wanted to test your loyalty to him. He wanted to know whether you would tell him, or you would lie. You did lie this time, but he was sure, after a few days you wouldn’t.
It had been two weeks and you were breathing. There was gladly no sign of Bucky anywhere. Though you were happy, you felt as if this was the silence before the storm.
Living with Steve was nice. Except one thing, your freedom. Not that he didn’t let you out or anything, just that whenever you went anywhere, Clint and Sam would always be by your side. The only worst part was that he didn’t let you work.
Apparently, he had asked for a leave from your hospital and they had sanctioned it, after all who denied Steve Rogers. They were even paying you full time, despite being on leave for so long. But you missed the stench of the hospital, you missed the thrill and most importantly you missed the feeling of when a life was saved.
Steve had not so subtly asked you to work for him more than once, but you always denied. You had no interest in getting stuck in the jungle.
Otherwise, it was super fun. You could give time to yourself; your dark circles had reduced; your skin was in better condition. And the best part was the garden. You adored plants. And so, you used all your spare time gardening in his mansion.
Rissie was getting home schooled along with George. They both had grown close to each other. Though you regretted paying her hefty school fees; only if you knew she was going to be home schooled, you wouldn’t have paid her yearly fees.
Currently you were sneaking into your room. Now it had become a ritual for you and Steve to have long talks in the quiet of the night. And it was just like the old times.
You saw Iris was fast asleep and you joined her on the bed. You weren’t quite sleepy so you decided to binge on Family Guy as you did almost every other night. It wasn’t funny anymore but it was your guilty pleasure. It had become routine for you to watch it. After that, it didn’t take much long for you to fall into deep slumber.
Your eyelids faintly opened up in the middle of the night and you could see someone standing on the edge of the bed. As the moonlight peered in, you saw it was Bucky. You wanted to get up. But you were in much too deep sleep for your body to react.
When you were finally able to get up, you looked around but gladly no one was there. You checked the bathroom, closet, under the bed, nope, he wasn’t there. And literally nothing was out of place. So apparently now your sleep paralysis demon was Bucky!
You were scrolling past a news article when you heard commotion. You went downstairs and saw absolute chaos. There had been a fight and while the others were slightly injured, Clint was shot and was critical.
“Can you help us? Please? We don’t have a doctor right now, he is on the way, but he might be late.” Vision asked you. His own leg had a cut, but he could walk. Sam’s hand had a minor cut from the look of it, but he was much better than the others.
Now you didn’t care where these people had been. They were your patients now, and the surgeon inside you roared to life. You agreed without a second thought.
You were surprised to find they had a whole operation theatre inside the house. You quickly took the reins and began your work. Halfway through, another doctor joined in. And it took you a moment to realize him.
Clint was finally out of the danger and the procedure was successful. Later you kept on patching everyone else up. For once they were glad that you were a trauma surgeon. And they all thanked to you.
But right now, you were too busy wondering why and how Thor was here. It was almost evening now as you finally sat on a nearby couch. You saw Thor approach you.
“Hey!” Your voice was filled with uncertainty. Thor being Thor, he first hugged you tight. “I missed you. We all miss you the hospital. We are so sad that you won’t be coming anymore. Just a year more and I swear to god you would’ve been the chief of surgery.” You already were the chief of trauma surgery and you wouldn’t say he was wrong.
But that’s not what caught your ear. “What? Who told I wasn’t coming back?” Thor raised his eyebrows and you knew the news wasn’t good. “Didn’t you... didn’t you resign?” You audibly gasped.
“I did what? No I definitely did not resign. I’m on a leave. And why would they pay me if I’ve resigned?” Thor was even more worried now, “The hospital isn’t issuing you a pay check anymore. I talked with Maria from the HR that day itself.”
“That’s not true.” You couldn’t believe your ears. You’d checked your bank account, and it had a steady incoming of your salary. “It is. Your position is gone too, Alex is now the chief of Trauma.”
Had you really lost your job? But then why hadn’t anyone told you about it? And who was paying you salary? You would find that soon, but currently you had other questions too. “And what are you doing here?” He pursed his lips, “That’s my question to you too.”
“You go first.” You crossed your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow. “Uhh, Steve is almost the unofficial board member of our hospital, you getting what I mean. And well, a long time back he gave me a deal I couldn’t deny. So, I work for him.”
“Umm, what? Why did I have no idea about any of this?” Thor was very close to you. Hell, even Bucky liked Thor once. But then why had he kept all these secrets? “Thor, you know I’ve worked there for years, so why didn’t any of you even once think of telling me this?”
Thor lowered his head and looked around as if he was going to tell you some conspiracy, “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but Steve made sure you wouldn’t know of that. Also Steve was the one who submitted your resignation. I didn’t have any idea how he knew you, I still don’t.
But whatever it is, he cares too much about you. I think he loves you. He’s talked yo me about you a few times and I’m sure he has a thing for you. Don’t tell him I told you, he wouldn’t like that...”
“Well, I guess it’s too late for that.” Both your heads whipped around. Steve was standing right behind you on the couch and he was staring holes in Thor’s head. “I suppose you are late Mr. Odinson. It would be a pity to fire you.”
Thor left without another word, but he gave you a look of pity and worry. Before you could think further, you saw the change in Steve’s eyes as he looked at you. From a fire spitting dragon, he was suddenly a puppy who was caught red handed. “I can explain.” He said calmly as he walked towards you on the couch.
You didn’t need him explaining you, you had joined the dots. “I don’t need you to explaining me anything. I just want one answer; why? Why didn’t you tell me any of that before? And did you keep on paying me and just carried forward the pretense of me still having a job. Why did you make me resign without even asking me once?”
“To protect you. If you ever go back to that hospital Bucky will find you. And we don’t want that. I just want what’s best for you.” He had snatched away your pride and he was still behaving as if he was helping you.
The fact that you still had your job was the only normalcy you had. That hospital had become a safe space for you in all these years. “Steve, I need some space. I’ll be back before it’s night, I promise. I just need to go somewhere alone. And no, you aren’t going to send anyone to track me. I can take care of myself. Please.”
Before he could protest you walked away.
You went to the best place you could calm yourself. A place where you could indulge yourself in a fictional world without any worry; a library.
You took your comfort book and sat in the comfortable sofa. You were a few chapters deep when someone sat a little too close to you.
As you turned around, your blood turned cold and you wished you were still with Steve. He gave you a sweet smile, almost like when he was yours. And you gasped,
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stevesbestgirl · a day ago
Down to Business
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Dark!CEO!Stucky x Reader (2345 words)
Warnings: little bit of Dark!Bucky and Dark!Steve, allusions to coercion
A/N: So, this was the first version of a fic I did for a request the other day, but I thought it wasn’t quite what they were asking for. Still, I love the little bit of darkness in these two, so I might end up making this a short series!
Fixing your blazer jacket, you took a deep breath before striding toward the imposing building. It didn’t matter if it was your first job or your fifth, the first day never got easier. Glancing up at the building, you stepped into the revolving door, ending up squished inside the compartment with someone else.
His arms came up to protect his phone in one hand and his coffee in the other. Feet twisting together, you caught of sparkling blue eyes before you tumbled out the other side. Bumping him in your path to the lobby floor, your gasp turned into a squeak of pain as hot coffee sloshed onto your shirt.
“Are you okay?” He tucked his phone into his pocket and offered you a hand up. You accepted, prying your eyes from his worried gaze, taking in a very handsome face. His hair was neatly gelled to the side and his stubble carefully maintained to look effortless.
“Yeah, just surprised, I think,” you grimaced. “I’m so sorry, that was completely my fault. Can I pay you for your coffee?”
He waved the idea away, “I was just as much at fault. Are you sure you’re-”
“I insist,” you argued, rifling through your bag, pulling out a crumpled five-dollar bill. “Did any of it get on your clothes?”
He laughed, the deep vibration warm and gruff, “Really, it’s fine. Keep your money.” He appraised you, “What’s your name? I’ve never seen you before.”
You introduced yourself, “Today’s my first day.”
He offered his hand, “Barnes. Call me Bucky.” He chuckled, “Normally I would say nice to meet you, but maybe now’s not the time.” He glanced at your coffee-soaked shirt, “You should probably get cleaned up.” You nodded and he smiled kindly, “I’ll see you around.”
He headed for the elevator and you bit you lip before slipping the five-dollar bill in his jacket pocket. In the bathroom, you tried to save your dress shirt, but the brown stain was stubborn. You abandoned hope of saving the shirt, drying it as much as possible beneath the hand drier and buttoning your jacket over the spot. It was a good thing you’d arrived a little early.
Returning to the lobby, you waited for Melinda, who was supposed to be giving you a tour, according to the receptionist. When the elevator pinged, a cute girl with blonde curls and a heart-shaped face stepped out.
“Welcome!” she chirped. “You must be Y/N. I’m Melinda.”
You smiled politely, “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m sure you’re ready to get started.” She led the way to the elevator, “I know the first day can be a lot, but you can ask me any questions you have.”
You glanced pensively at the elevator buttons, “Will we be touring all eight floors?” That was a lot of introductions.
She nodded, “Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes like to keep the workplace open. That means we’re allowed to visit other floors, socialize a little. We show the whole building so you get the chance to meet everyone and no one gets lost.”
You dimly heard her explanation over the faint buzzing in your ears; did she say Barnes? Had you spilled the CEO’s coffee before you’d even started working? Oh god. You’d put five dollars in his pocket.
You tried to push the humiliation from your thoughts as Melinda walked you around. In eight floors, it was possible there was another person named Barnes, right? He hadn’t acted like a CEO. You plastered a smile on your face as you were paraded around, even as the faces started to blend together.
At lunchtime, you politely declined Melinda’s offer of lunch in the breakroom, already set on getting some air. Before leaving you asked her, “Is there more than one Mr. Barnes working here?”
She looked confused, “Yeah, there’s one on the sixth floor and then the CEO. Why do you ask?”
“I bumped into someone this morning. I didn’t think it was the CEO, but I just wanted to make sure.”
She laughed, “Oh, that makes sense. That would be sort of a rough start to your first day.”
You thanked her and got in the elevator, eager to get outside. It was crowded full of people leaving for lunch and it had already been a long day. You were feeling tired and you still had half the building to tour.
Out in the lobby, someone spoke just behind you while you looked up a place for lunch, “Hi. You’re the new hire, right? Y/L/N?”
You turned around, surprised to find another stunning, blue-eyed man. His blonde hair was neatly coifed, falling over his forehead in a carefully executed swoop. You nodded dimly, hoping your mouth wasn’t open. You honestly weren’t even sure if he’d said your name, but you hoped he was talking to you.
“Yes, that’s me,” you replied, grateful that your voice didn’t waver.
He offered a hand, “Steve Rogers.”
“The CEO, right?” You were going to make sure this time.
He nodded, “C’mon, let’s get some lunch. My treat.”
You felt your cheeks warm, “Um, I was-”
“Don’t worry,” he urged smoothly. “It’s not a big deal. I just like to buy the new hires lunch on their first day.”
“O-okay,” you agreed nervously. This wasn’t exactly the relaxing lunch you’d been hoping for.
“Unless you don’t want company.” He pulled a fifty from his wallet, “I’ll still buy your lunch. For the sake of tradition.” Well, you couldn’t exactly say no now.
“Uh, that’s alright. Let’s go.”
He gestured to the revolving door to let you go first and your heart skipped; did he know about earlier? But he didn’t make any comments as he followed you out the door. He led the way to a little outdoor bistro and once you’d ordered, you felt better. He was very professional, polite and respectful. But not stuffy or proper; you didn’t feel like you were talking to a CEO.
Once lunch was over, you bid him farewell in the elevator, “Thank you for lunch Mr. Rogers.”
He flashed a charming smile, “Not a problem. And call me Steve. You know where to find me if you have any questions.”
You nodded before stepping out on the fifth floor, where you had agreed to meet Melinda after lunch. You felt more at ease after eating with Steve; he seemed easygoing and it was nice of him to buy his new hires lunch. Maybe you didn’t need to worry so much.
By the time you reached the sixth floor, you’d almost forgotten about the second Barnes. At least, until a round faced, blonde man introduced himself as Tim Barnes. Your lunch felt like a rock in your gut; you’d made a fool of yourself in front of one of the CEOs. And slipped him five dollars after he’d turned it down.
By the time you made it up to the eighth floor, you were sweating. You didn’t want to see him again, ever, if you could manage it. You were an office drone; how hard could it be not to run into the CEO? Ignoring the fact that you’d seen both of them today, you were sure it couldn’t be that difficult.
“You don’t have to show me the CEO’s office. I’m sure they’re busy,” you dragged your feet as Melinda led you to the elevator on the seventh floor.
“Of course I do. They always want to meet the new hires,” she said cheerfully, hitting the call button.
“I already met them, actually. Steve took me out for my ‘new hire’ lunch this afternoon.”
Her brow furrowed, “Steve? You mean Mr. Rogers?” You nodded and she chuckled nervously, “You should probably be a little more formal. And what do you mean ‘new hire’ lunch? You had lunch with Mr. Rogers?”
You were flabbergasted. He’d said it was tradition. But if that were the case, certainly Melinda would have at least heard of it. And did he not tell everyone to call him Steve?
“Maybe you’re confused,” she shook her head, leading you into the elevator as the doors opened.
The elevator ride was awkward. Melinda clearly thought you were nuts, in addition to being unprofessional. And now you were dreading seeing both of your bosses. You probably looked like such an idiot.
When the doors pinged open, you took a deep breath before following Melinda. She approached the assistant’s desk, just to the right of a fancy-looking door, labelled with gold name plates that read, ‘CEO,’ on top, then ‘James Barnes,’ and ‘Steve Rogers’ underneath.
“Hey Terry,” she greeted. “Just touring the new hire, this is Y/N.” You raised your hand in a meek ‘hello.’ “Is now an okay time to take her in?”
“They should be; they’ve only got one meeting scheduled at the very end of the day. But let me check.” Terry picked up the phone, cheerfully speaking into the receiver, “Do you both have a minute? New hire tour.” There was a pause, “Great, thank you!”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Melinda laughed.
“Go right in.”
Melinda marched ahead with you trailing behind like a puppy about to be scolded, “Good afternoon Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers. You’re the final stop on my tour with Y/N.” And there they were; both of the godly-looking men you’d made a fool of yourself in front of today.
It took you a moment to realize the odd setup of the room. There were two desks, one for each of them, but they were pushed together so the two men would be working side by side. You hadn’t considered how odd it was that they shared the office in the first place. But you had bigger problems than the eccentric workspace.
Mr. Barnes was the first to rise, sweeping around the desk to shake your hand, stunning you by acting like the coffee incident had never happened, “Y/N, we were wondering when you two would make it up here. How’s your first day been?”
“F-fine. I mean- good! Melinda was a great tour guide,” you stammered.
Mr. Rogers chuckled, rising from his own desk, “That’s good to hear. We know it can be a little overwhelming, meeting everyone in one day.”
“Yeah, I’m a little overwhelmed,” you chuckled darkly. That was putting it mildly.
The chatter was polite, the pair of them acting like perfect bosses. A meeting like this would usually be reassurance that this was going to be a good place to work, but you couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Had you made up your encounters with them today? There was no way.
Back in the elevator, Melinda tittered, “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
“Yeah, not bad,” you echoed, too confused to take the bait she was dangling. You remembered the office, “Are they- you know- together?”
She nodded, “Yeah, they’re married. You didn’t know that? That’s why it was so weird when you said you had lunch with Mr. Rogers. He almost never has lunch without Mr. Barnes. It’s pretty cute.” If they were married, why would Rogers lie to take you out for lunch?
She left you in your own cube on the fourth floor, giving you some time to set up your workstation and get comfy before the day ended. You settled into the desk chair, tacking up some photos before signing into your new computer.
Scrolling through your inbox, cluttered with welcome emails, your breath caught. From ‘Barnes, J.” with ‘Rogers, S.” copied, the subject line read, “New Hire Welcome Dinner.” Glancing over your shoulder, you opened the message, “Greetings Y/N, In celebration of your first day, we would like to formally invite you to the new hire welcome dinner. Please report to our office at 4:55PM to discuss the details further.”
A flare of indignation rushed through you; what was going on with these guys? You locked your computer and marched to the elevator, fuming the whole ride up. Terry was nowhere to be seen, so you stalked right in, not stopping to knock.
You crossed your arms, “What is going on here?”
“Y/N, you’re right on time,” Rogers said pleasantly, seeming not to notice your ire.
“Where do you want to go for your new hire dinner?” Barnes added.
“There is no new hire dinner,” you huffed. “Why are you guys messing with me?”
Barnes glanced up at you innocently, “We wouldn’t mess with you, doll.”
Your face grew hot again, “Then why did you act like we hadn’t met when I came in here with Melinda?”
“Well, we couldn’t exactly flirt with you in front of her, could we?” Rogers chuckled.
“W-what?” you sputtered. “Is that why you lied about taking me to lunch?”
“I didn’t lie, love,” he clarified.
“You said it was tradition!”
“It is! I always take the cute new hires that Bucky spills his coffee on to lunch on their first day. Starting today,” he shrugged.
Barnes snorted, “I told Steve I bumped into our lovely new hire this morning and he wanted to see for himself.” You fumed, but you couldn’t shake the slight feeling of being flattered. They both thought you were cute?
“And I thought it was unfair for me to get to take you out and not Bucky, so we thought we’d do dinner all together.”
“What makes you think I want to go to dinner with you?” you snapped, all too conscious of the rapid beat of your heart.
“Come on, doll,” Barnes urged. “Give us a chance.”
“You lied to me,” you protested. “And you’re my bosses!” That probably shouldn’t have been your secondary reason.
Rogers moved behind you, and you turned to watch him, “We’re sorry for lying, love. It won’t happen again.” Suddenly, his leg was between yours, pushing you back toward the desk, but you bumped into something tall and solid before you got there.
Your gasp was halfway out of your mouth when it turned to a moan. Rogers smirked and Barnes spoke in your ear, “But now that you know you belong to us, it won’t have to.”
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boxofbonesfic · a day ago
Thristy thots: dark!Steve returning to Brooklyn only to find his girl has moved on. So he has to remind who she belongs to in front of her new man 😏 I dont have the ability to write a good dark Steve so he's just gonna live in my mind for now 😂😂 Happy Sinday!
i… woah. okay
title: memento
rating: explicit
warnings: noncon/dubcon, humiliation, degredation, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, oh god the dove is dead please don’t eat it
“Remember now, sweetheart?” Steve’s face looms over your own, his eyes boring into you. You can’t look away—your shoulder still bears the mark of your previous infraction, the bite mark red and swollen. The rest of you is also marked with his affections, bruises and handprints around your hips from his roughness. You’re practically sobbing against him, your own fingernails drawing reddened lines down his chest and back. “Oh I think it’s coming back to you, baby.” His mouth is on yours again, hot and hungry as he rolls his hips into yours. You don’t know how there’s room for all of his cock, the heavy weight of it splitting you deliciously in two. You’ve come apart on his cock three times that you can count, two on his fingers, and one in his mouth. You’re exhausted and overstimulated but he’s still going.
“Steve please,” you whine. “I’m—hic—sorry, I’m s-so sorry, I didn’t know you were coming back—told me you were d-dead—” your words are marred by his thrusts, and the feel of him bottoming out inside of you is still making stars burst, searing into your vision. “P-please—” he strokes the sides of your face without missing a beat, his cock still moving steadily in the sloppy, wet mess of your cunt.
“I know, sweetheart. I believe you. I forgive you for that. I know you didn’t know.” he kisses you again. “What I can’t forgive,” he turns your head sharply to face the bound, gagged figure on the chair just next to the bed, “is this. I don’t think you remember whose pussy this is.” Steve punctuates the statement with a thrust that makes your body convulse with pleasure. “Whose it is to give away. But when you remember, doll,” he groans, forcing your gaze back to him. “I’ll forgive you.”
He screams through the gag, but Steve’s done a good job, and you barely hear anything. Maybe he can see your concern, or perhaps he takes pity on Eric, restrained just feet from where Steve is sliding his cock slickly into you, but he chuckles. “And maybe then I’ll let him loose.”
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alexis-venkman · a day ago
"Oh, Soldier~! Your oh-so-adorable wife has something for you~"
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sweetlyscared · a day ago
Heaven Can Wait
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Pairing: Soft!Dark! Biker!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 10.5k (sorry!!!)
Summary: Forced to work for the leader of the local motorcycle club, you quickly learned no good deed goes unpunished. Biker AU
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI. Noncon (rape), noncon touching, dubcon touching, smut (praise kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, innocence kink), violence (drunk bar fights), angst (trauma, hurt/comfort, loss of virginity, rape recovery), angst with a happy ending, references to alcohol and drunk behavior, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), Steve being a complete asshole at first.
Note: This is my final submission for @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge. I posted this idea and she seemed to like it, so now it is a reality! Siri, I hope you like this! Congrats again for the 5k ruin panties! Here's to 5k more!
I used the following prompts: You catch the eye of someone dangerous, “This far out, no one will hear you scream,” praise kink, bad boy kink.
Thank you to @river-soul who gave me the title for this fic!
My Masterlist
Murky grey water stained your fingernails and pooled in the pruney divots of your cramped hands. It had taken a few hours to scrub the layers of grime off the floor, but you were nearly done. Of course, nothing in your life was ever easy. You couldn’t even celebrate something as small as a finished chore when Steve walked down the hall, his mud caked boots ruining hours of work.
“The boys are coming by later,” Steve grumbled without even looking at you and slammed the front door behind him.
You have a soft heart, and that’s not always a good thing, your mother once told you when you were a child. A litter of kittens was born near your house, but it appeared they’d been abandoned far too young. With no idea how to care of them, they died, and you spent the afternoon crying in your mother’s arms as she consoled you as best she could.
Her words echoed in your head, and they were never more true.
You held back tears as you tossed the scrubber into the bucket of dirty water and sat down, giving your tired knees a break.
Luck was rarely on your side, much less so when you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time several weeks before.
Housekeeping at a small motel wasn’t the most glamorous job, but it paid well enough to support you while you took online classes at one of the community colleges in the city. The motel was also a ten minute walk from the rundown apartment you shared with a roommate. It wasn’t the best side of town, but you didn’t have a car and the walk wasn’t long. Still, nights were always more tense, and when you heard an anguished groan coming from a drug store parking lot, you regretted not accepting a ride home from the janitor.
Two men were fighting, but it was difficult to see. The only sources of light came from the flickering orange glow of the street lamp and the sickly green light from the store. Still, you could see enough. One of the men was about your age, and despite his smaller stature, you saw him pummel the other man into a bloody mess.
You gasped, and the assailant looked at you with wide eyes. For a man who nearly killed someone else with his bare fists, there was something guileless about him. It threw you off. So much so, you weren’t prepared for the tidal wave of misfortunes headed directly towards you.
The first misfortune was seeing that harmless looking boyish face. Next, when the police arrived, they asked for a statement, which you gave.
It was just dark enough in the parking lot that you didn’t notice the patches that adorned the man’s jacket, or else you would have kept your mouth shut.
When the victim regained consciousness, he pressed charges, and you were asked to testify. You did.
It was the right thing to do.
You didn’t realize you hadn’t just poked the hornet’s nest; you set it on fire.
Peter Parker was the youngest member of the Avengers, a branch of the notorious biker club that ran along these parts.
It was always ambiguous what they did, but it wasn’t on the right side of the law, and people knew to stay out of their business. Regardless, they had money, and their lawyer, Andy Barber, was one of the best. Peter was let go on a technicality and the case never went to trial.
Shortly after the whole ordeal was dismissed, the chaos started.
It was tolerable at first. A random call in the middle of the night, a note left for you at work with a scribbled message telling you to watch out. Other than restless nights, you went by unharmed-- no one had approached you, and no one had hurt those around you.
Things only escalated from there.
The motel you worked at was robbed with a crude ‘A’ carved into the front desk, the Avengers’ calling card. It wasn’t a secret why they were targeting you, so your manager fired you if only to protect himself and his staff.
The police either didn’t know what to do or were paid for their indifference; any attempts at contacting them were met with harrowing silence.
Days were drawn out as you applied for jobs with no success and were running on nearly no energy from stress and lack of sleep.
The vague threats stopped for a week, and you hoped they got bored of terrorizing you.
No such compassion was sent your way.
You came home from a promising job interview, but you didn’t even need to enter the apartment to know whatever game they were playing wasn’t going to stop.
The front door was kicked in, the frame splintered where the latch tore through. Glass from the shattered windows and wood chips littered the floor.
Dread almost made you leave, not wanting to see the inside of the apartment. But you had no choice, and upon walking through the door, you gasped. Bookshelves were upturned, furniture destroyed, personal possessions broken and scattered about.
Your room was in a similar state-- broken picture frames, ripped up clothes and bedding. Luckily, your roommate’s bedroom was unscathed. You were relieved initially, but blanched when the implication sank in.
They knew which room was yours.
“You just had to fucking say something,” your roommate hissed when she came home to red and blue lights bouncing off the apartment complex. She cried when she saw the state of the living room.
“Danielle, I-” you started.
“Save it. Just get the fuck out.”
Not wanting to cause her any more grief, you nodded and left. Staying with anyone you knew would mean risking their safety, and you couldn’t do that. You didn’t have much in your savings, but you sold what little possessions you had left and stayed in a motel on the other side of town.
You prayed they’d lose interest.
A rock was thrown through the motel window, shattering the glass and your hopes for any peace. You woke up with a jolt, ice running through your veins, heart racing.
The rock had a note tied to it.
Scribbled across the folded paper was an address. Your sister’s. She lived in the city-- close enough to harm if they so wished.
Panicked, you ran out of the motel room and winced when you felt a shard of glass embed itself into your foot.
Standing outside was a man, and you realized just how hollow any hope of escape truly was. You never stood a chance.
The blinding light of the motorcycle headlight obscured his features, but you knew who he was.
Steve Rogers, leader of the Avengers.
“What do you want from me,” you asked, voice raspy from the weeks of accumulated anxiety.
“I have a deal for you. You work for me, and we’ll leave that sweet sister of yours alone.”
“And if I don’t accept?”
“She wouldn’t be the first person I killed.”
His eyes were cold. Empty.
At least he gave you the illusion of choice.
You were terrified of him at first, but he largely ignored you as long as you stayed out of his way. It was easy to fall into a predictable, if not lonely routine.
Steve made you his housekeeper and “let” you stay in the small guest room as payment for your work, leaving you entirely financially dependent on him.
His house was old but rather far from the other houses from his street. Prior to you working there, it was a complete mess-- empty liquor bottles and various food wrappers strewn about, scuff marks and dirt caked floors, layers of dust on unused surfaces.
It was a stark contrast to his bedroom, which was remarkably organized-- bed always made, the few mementos he had were always perfectly in place. Even his clothes were neatly folded or hung. You didn’t understand the discrepancy until he and the rest of the Avengers stumbled in, piss drunk after their usual bar closed for the night. They tossed beer cans on the floor, yelled at each other, and moved about with little regard for both the house and for themselves until they passed out and left the next morning or afternoon.
It took you a week alone to get the rest of the house in order, if only because every other day, the core group of his gang would come in to undo a lot of your progress.
And if things got too easy for you, Steve made work for you.
With a heavy sigh, you moved the bucket to the trail of muddy footprints and got started cleaning again.
The air from the dryer enveloped you in comforting warmth as you unloaded the last load of laundry for the evening. You looked forward to calling it early for the night. Maybe you’d study for your upcoming literature exam.
Of course, Steve never made things easy for you, and as you were folding the last few shirts, the front door opened with enough force to shake the house.
You inwardly groaned.
It wasn’t too late into the evening, and you only heard one set of footprints, so maybe Steve was alone. You also hadn’t heard his motorcycle or any others, so Sam must’ve dropped him off with his truck. He’d do that occasionally.
You quickly folded the last bit of laundry when he stumbled past you, holding a half empty bottle of whiskey.
You didn’t know if he could make it up the stairs and rushed out to help him, draping one of his heavy arms across your shoulders.
“What are you doing?” He grumbled and shot you a mildly irritated look when he noticed you.
“Helping you up,” you strained when he put more of his weight on you, as if to prove a point. You could barely hear his dark chuckle but you certainly felt the deep vibrations from his chest. He simply moved his arm off your shoulder and continued walking up with relative ease.
“S’not the first time I’ve been drunk, girl.”
Sighing a little, you grabbed the basket of folded laundry, and followed him up. You wanted to put away his clothes and be done with the day.
The bed creaked when Steve sat down to untie his boots. He peered at you curiously when you set the basket on the opposite end. Once his boots were off, you grabbed them and headed towards his closet.
“Left side-”
“Bottom row,” you murmured.
“Observant little thing, aren’t you,” he said after another swig of whiskey.
“You’re just very consistent and organized. At least, in your room,” you froze after saying the last part, unsure whether or not he’d take umbrage with your words.
The laugh that followed was even more unnerving.
“Fair enough,” he said and placed the bottle on the nightstand with a thud. “Got tired of cleaning up after the others.”
“I feel like there were easier ways to hire a maid,” you sighed and retrieved the basket, gauging his response. He only smirked at you, oddly playful, and you wondered if he was always so easy going when he was drunk.
Without another word, Steve began to shed the worn leather jacket followed by the tight white shirt he wore underneath, and you immediately focused your gaze on the floor, missing the amused gleam in his eyes at your apparent bashfulness. You hoped he couldn’t feel the heat that bloomed across your skin at the sliver of his stomach you managed to see before looking away. While you could assume Steve was built based on stature alone, you weren’t prepared to see the cords and bundles of muscles that framed his body.
Slowly, you put his clothes away, trying to ignore him as best you could. He would probably pass out soon and with any luck, he’d forget about the whole interaction.
“Easier, sure, but this is so much more fun,” you heard him whisper in your ear, his hot breath tickling your ear, and you shrieked in surprise.
The house was old and creaky. How a large man like himself managed to walk across the aging wooden floorboards, drunk out of his mind without making a single sound was impressive, though you were too shocked to really dwell on it.
Instinctually, you moved away from the direction of his voice but a strong arm wrapped around your waist and turned you so you could face him. The movement threw you off so you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself, immediately removing them when you felt taught muscle and coarse hair beneath your palms.
His blue eyes peered at you inquisitive, searching. You felt like you were burning under his gaze.
“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you,” he nearly whispered as the hand splayed on your lower back wandered to your side where he ran it up your body slowly, just narrowly missing your breast. You could smell the whiskey on his breath which mingled with the scent of leather and wood that always seemed to follow him.
“Steve…” you nearly whimpered.
“You know, when the kid told me some idiot was ballsy enough to press charges and some bigger idiot was even more ballsy to corroborate the story, I was expecting some dumbass suburban soccer mom who didn’t know any better. Woulda been easy enough to scare off,” Steve hummed the last part and his hand rested on your neck, teasing your pulse point with a rough thumb.
“I was surprised to see you at first. Oh so sweet, oh so naive,” he cupped your face where stroked the ball of your cheek with alarming gentleness. “Made sense though. You probably didn’t even know what you were getting into.”
“I didn’t,” you said so softly, as though you were afraid any loud noises would set him off.
He held your gaze a little longer, before laughing a little, the smirk on his lips never quite reaching his eyes. He let you go and returned to his bed where he grabbed his jacket.
“Leave the rest of the laundry here. I can put it away.”
You nodded and quickly left his room.
Things changed slightly from there. While Steve wasn’t necessarily nicer to you, something difficult to gauge to begin with given how little he interacted with you prior, he did stop making messes just for you to clean up. It was a small olive branch, but one that made living with him less hostile. With that, you weren’t as skittish being seen, and you had more time to get to know both him and his friends.
They’d congregate at Steve’s place at all hours of the day or night, watching a football game, shouting over each other, and other drunken nonsense. You mostly stayed away, but one night, Steve asked you to bring him a beer when you walked by to do the laundry, and from there, they often asked you to do the same.
They weren’t awful otherwise. None of them tried to touch you, and some were even polite.
Bucky was Steve’s best friend and practically his brother. He was relatively mild mannered though snippy at times, especially towards Sam, another close friend. Sam was charming and treated you like a person. On a Sunday afternoon, you were removing bottle caps from several beers when he saw you and offered to help.
“Steve’s not that bad, he… he’s been through a lot,” he told you as he gathered a few bottles.
“He threatened to kill my sister,” you murmured.
Sam sighed, “yeah he doesn’t always mean what he says.”
Occasionally, you’d see Thor, a surprisingly boisterous man with a thundering laugh who always thanked you when you’d hand him a cold beer.
Then there was Peter.
You avoided Peter at all costs at first, unsure if he held a grudge. But in time, it seemed like he was by far the most docile out of the group.
“Sorry about… this whole thing. I wanted to drop it but Steve wasn’t having it,” he sheepishly told you when he cornered you one evening.
“Oh, uh, it's okay,” you sputtered out, not trusting him initially.
Over the weeks, he proved himself to be genuine in his original statement, being the only one who went out of his way to keep you company.
“Who are the new guys?” You asked Peter one night. As usual, the main gang stumbled in drunk-- Bucky, Sam, Thor, and Peter. But with them were two faces you hadn’t seen before.
“Rumlow and Rollins,” Peter scoffed. “I’d stay away from those two.”
“They’re not your friends?”
“Nah, they’re from a different club. We’re mostly friendly with one another and our territory overlaps a little so it’s best to keep the peace.”
“What makes them so bad?”
“I just don’t trust ‘em is all,” Peter mumbled.
You weren’t about to argue with him and stayed even more out of the way when they were over, though it was inevitable they’d find you.
“Oh what have we here?” You heard a voice call behind you as you transferred a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer. You jumped a little at the sudden sound and looked over your shoulder where Rumlow leaned against the doorframe. “You must be the help Steve mentioned a while back,” he mused.
He took a step forward and you took one back, trying to keep as much distance between you as was possible. Unfortunately, the laundry room was little more than a storage closet and your back hit the wall, coaxing a small whimper out of you. You didn’t fail to notice how the sound seemed to light up his eyes in viscous curiosity.
“I gotta say, I wasn't expecting you to be so… cute.” He did little to hide the contempt in his voice.
He made no effort to hide how he purposefully dragged his eyes over your body. You wore practical clothes-- leggings and loose shirts or sweaters. It didn’t seem to stop him from appreciating what he could see anyway.
“Gotta hand it to you, it was kinda brave to stand up against one of Steve’s,” Rumlow continued to get closer.
“She didn’t know who we were.” You heard Peter and sighed with relief. Rumlow turned around. “Come on, leave her alone, she’s just trying to work.”
“You sweet on her?” Rumlow smirked.
“I just don’t get off scaring girls,” Peter stood his ground but you could see the worried glint in his expression.
Peter was strong. Far stronger than he looked, but Rumlow was seasoned and nearly twice as big.
“Come on, we’re just having fun, right girlie?” Rumlow looked back at you, daring you to object.
“Yeah, it’s okay Peter,” you pleaded quietly, not wanting things to get out of hand.
Rumlow nodded and left the small room, bumping into Peter’s shoulder as he walked past him.
“I hate that man,” Peter mumbled once he was clear. He got closer to make sure you were okay. “He hurt you at all?”
“No, I’m fine,” you assured with a small smile. “Thank you.”
It was a tender moment, something you hadn’t experienced in awhile.
“What’s going on here?”
You heard Steve and your eyes snapped to where he was standing in the hallway.
“Rumlow was being a dick,” Peter said and walked out of the laundry room. “She’s fine though.”
You watched Peter disappear, leaving you with Steve. The look he gave you was difficult to read. His brows were furrowed slightly. While he didn’t look angry, he still looked bothered.
“Is there something wrong?” You asked.
He shook his head, face relaxing into something neutral.
“No, it’s fine,” he sighed and left you alone with your racing thoughts.
Steve was in the garage, working on his bike, which gave you time to clean his room. It was almost always immaculately clean, but you still liked to give it a dust over. Gingerly, you brushed the duster over the various surfaces in his room. It was easy since he had so few mementos on display. The only notable thing was a picture frame that was always face down.
You shouldn’t have looked, but curiosity got the best of you and you lifted it up. A photo of a beautiful woman stared back at you. Her eyes were serious but kind, and she carried herself with a measure of confidence, as though she could command a room the moment she walked in.
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s not polite to snoop around?”
You jumped a little. You figured you’d be able to hear Steve in time to put the photo back, but you could never underestimate how quiet he could be when he tried.
“I’m so sorry,” you quickly put the frame down, making sure to handle it with care. “I was just curious, but that’s no excuse and-”
“Relax, sweetheart,” you heard Steve as he neared you.
You couldn’t relax, not when you still didn’t trust him, and you quickly gathered the duster to leave when he stopped you with a heavy hand on your shoulder.
“Do you drink at all?” He asked.
You looked at him, confused.
“I… not really,” you said.
“Have a glass with me.” He walked out of the room and nodded towards the door for you to follow him.
Frozen in fear, you weren’t sure if this was some ploy. He glanced at you when he saw you hadn’t moved and chuckled slightly.
“I swear, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
You followed him to the living room where he poured some amber liquid into a glass and handed it to you before pouring himself significantly more.
You did.
“So obedient,” he smirked, almost in something akin to appreciation.
“Is there something wrong?” You asked, trying and failing to sound confident. You only grew more panicked when he sat next to you, the outside of his thighs pressing against yours.
“You really are a skittish little thing,” he mused as he brought the glass to his lips. “Drink.”
You remained quiet, not sure how to react, so you took a sip from your cup. You winced as the liquor burned your throat. Wanting to get away sooner, you downed the entire thing with a wince.
“The boys think I’m going too hard on you,” Steve mumbled after swallowing a good swig of whiskey. “Peter especially, but the kid’s got a soft heart.”
“He doesn’t seem like he’d be in this world,” you said, starting to feel lightheaded.
“And what world does he fit into?”
“Something nicer.”
Steve didn’t respond and you were afraid you upset him. Before you could look over, you felt calloused knuckles brush your cheek and you jumped a little.
“So sweet,” Steve murmured.
Heat bloomed under the skin on your face at the comment.
“Would you have really killed my sister if I didn’t come with you?” You sputtered out, wanting the silence to end. Perhaps that was the wrong question to ask, but it had been weighing on your mind since your small conversation with Sam. The liquor wasn’t helping you make better choices, either.
Steve smirked a little, lazy, amused.
“So were you lying about killing anyone?”
Steve sighed and poured himself more whiskey before grabbing your glass and giving you a little as well.
“No, I’ve done that,” his voice was low, quiet. “Did a couple tours overseas,” he said. “Former military. Army.”
Steve’s not that bad, he’s been through a lot, Sam’s words echoed through your head.
“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.
“It’s where Bucky and I met Sam, so it wasn’t completely bad.”
“You knew Bucky before?”
“I've known him since we were kids.”
You nodded but didn’t say anything else. You wanted to ask about the woman in the picture, but given you’d never seen her around, you had to assume something bad happened.
“Peggy,” he said as if reading your mind.
“The photo. Her name is Peggy. She was my fiance.”
You could hear the longing in his voice and the pain woven through it.
“What happened?” You asked. “You don’t have to say, not if you don’t want to,” you quickly added on.
He glanced at you, his eyes soft. You weren’t used to seeing him so vulnerable. It made the rough outlines of his face disappear, and he looked wildly different, younger almost.
“Got shipped overseas. Saw things no one should have to see, did things no one should have to do. I came back and I wasn’t the same,” he sighed. “I got angry a lot, didn’t want to get help for it, drank myself away.”
As if to prove a point, Steve finished his glass and grabbed yours, which had remained untouched since he poured you another drink. He drank that too. He placed both glasses on the coffee table.
“If you think I drink a lot now, I cut back considerably. Didn’t do that until after she left though. She couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t watch me destroy myself.”
“Is there any way you could rekindle things?” You asked.
“No. She’s moved on. Has a nice little family now. I’d be an ass if I came in and ruined all that. ‘Sides, I’m not much better than I was before.”
“I’m sorry,” you offered after a small pause.
“It’s not your fault,” he mused. “But thanks for sharing a drink with me.”
He left the glasses on the coffee table and walked upstairs to his bedroom.
After that night, Steve seemed to teeter on the edge of being kind and cold.
There were soft moments, where he’d help you fold laundry or dry dishes as you washed them, asking you questions about yourself-- what was your childhood like, do you have any dreams about where you’d like to go in life, what sort of music you liked.
“You wanted to be a dentist?” He nearly laughed, leaning against the counter as you wiped it down. “What kind of kid wants to be a dentist?”
“I dunno, I always liked teeth, I guess,” you shrugged.
He shot you a perplexed look before shaking his head in amused disbelief.
“What changed your mind?”
“I hate spit,” you smiled.
“Yeah, I guess that would be a complication there.”
Comfortable silence filled the space, something you appreciated about him. If he had nothing to say, he didn’t try to make noise for the sake of it.
“What about you?” You inquired. “What did you want to be when you were a kid.”
“A soldier,” he said with no hesitation, but there was a hint of something melancholic in his voice.
“Oh.” You knew how that story ended. “Did you want to do anything after?”
He thought for a moment.
“I don’t know,” he said but you weren’t convinced. You didn’t pressure him, though, and just enjoyed the silent understanding between you two.
In time, you realized he longed for a life where he could just settle down, but his self-destructive tendencies would never allow it.
You used to avoid him when he came home from doing God knows what, but after seeing him wash a rather deep cut in the kitchen sink, you helped patch him up. Afterwards, he’d ask for your help if he saw you, but never bothered you if you weren’t around.
So you began to greet him when he came home.
There was something oddly domestic about the whole arrangement.
He touched you more, too. At first, it was a hand on your shoulder as he passed by, cupping your face as you tended to his wounds. But when he was drunk, he’d occasionally press you against the wall, his hands on your hips, his lips ghosting over yours, tempted but never indulging himself.
Rounded eyes would trace his features, and you could hear the low growl rumbling from his chest as he did the same. If he wanted to do more, you would have let him. He never did.
But then there was the coldness.
You never knew what sparked his moods and compelled him to be so distant, but there were days where he wanted nothing to do with you. He’d ignore you when you’d ask about his day, dismiss you if you tried to help him.
In time, you learned how to navigate him, though the constant changes kept you on edge. Still, he planted a seed of longing within you in the way he’d look at you, like you were something precious to him. It made you feel wanted.
Part of you knew it was foolish to believe Steve would ever want you beyond curious lust. You were never more convinced than when you heard the loud bang of his motorcycle falling onto the dirt driveway.
The noise brought you to the living room, where you saw him as he stumbled onto the couch. Even drunk and swaying, he still managed to look intimidating.
He'd come home tipsy many times, but never as drunk as he was, and he’d never driven himself home-- Sam or Bucky usually gave him a ride those nights.
But you knew what today was. It was the anniversary of the day he and Peggy got engaged.
He hardly acknowledged you as you began to assess any damage, prodding at his body to feel for tender spots. How he’d managed to ride a motorcycle home without hurting himself or others was beyond you.
“Steve, you can’t drive while drunk,” you sighed when you found he was unscathed.
“Why do you care?” He murmured, whiskey heavy eyes lazily looking at you.
“Because I do, and this isn’t good for you. Or anyone.”
“You know all about good, don’t you?”
Ignoring his comment, you went to unlace his boots, if only to make him more comfortable.
“So good,” he nealy slurred. “Too good for me.”
All too suddenly, Steve grabbed you and pulled you into his lap where your knees were planted on both sides of his hips.
“Steve-” you squeaked when you felt his lips press against yours.
“Fuck, you don’t even know what those doe eyes do to me,” he growled.
You couldn’t stifle a sweet gasp when his hands roamed your body with near hungry desire.
“Bet you never even fucked a man before,” he cupped a breast and your breath hitched. You shook your head and tried to push at his chest.
One of his hands lowered until it brushed against your core, and you let out a strangled moan.
“I don’t know why that does it for me,” he murmured as he continued to stroke you through your leggings. “Never really cared for the innocent ones. Peggy was commanding, could silence a whole room with a single look. I bet you couldn’t even flag down a waiter.”
Pressure boiled in your core, and you stopped trying to push him away when it became apparent he wasn’t going to let you go. Slowly, you started rocking your hips into his hand.
When he noticed you were responding, he moved his other hand under your shirt where he cupped your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers. You gasped and looked at him. His eyes were closed, concentrated as he brought you closer to release.
A soft moan escaped your lips, and his eyes snapped open, bloodshot and focused on your lust blown gaze.
His hands stopped moving.
You made a sound, mourning the loss of pleasure, and he pulled away, all but shoving you out of his lap. With a thud, you stumbled onto the floor where you pushed yourself back, further from him, trembling.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
He studied you, a storm in his eyes, and you weren’t quite sure what he was thinking.
“You’re not Peggy. Didn’t know why I thought I could replace her with someone so weak.”
You were stunned at how quickly he’d changed. Tears began to well in your eyes but you were too overwhelmed to get up.
Steve paused for a moment, something flashing in his eyes, before cursing under his breath.
“It ain’t happening again, sorry,” he grumbled and walked away.
As soon as you heard his door slam shut, you ran to your room and sank to the floor.
Steve didn’t talk to you after that. It felt like the first couple weeks you started living there, a complete stranger.
The silence was unnerving, and you weren’t sure if he felt uncomfortable because of that night. Wanting to get closure, you approached him as he worked on his bike in the garage. You hoped whatever anger he might have felt was gone, and the man you’d come to know over the weeks would return.
“Steve?” You called out.
He ignored you.
“I just wanted to clear the air about what happened.”
You heard him sigh and he tossed his wrench onto his workbench with a loud clunk.
“Nothing happened,” he nearly sneered at you.
While he could be dismissive before, he was never quite mean about it. The vitriol in his voice had you backing away.
“I haven’t been laid in awhile and you felt easy.”
Your heart dropped, heavy at his confession.
“You were always playing house with me, hovering over me like a puppy. Figured I could fuck you and get it out of my system,” he said while he grabbed a greasy towel and wiped his hands before tossing it at you where you fumbled catching it.
He didn’t look at you when he took a drink from his water bottle.
“I have work to do,” he picked up the wrench.
You stayed away from him after that.
A few weeks passed without so much a word from Steve.
Peter noticed the tension. You were sure they all did, given you stayed in your room when they were over.
“Is everything okay?” Peter asked you one day when he managed to see you.
You nodded, but it was apparent he wasn’t convinced. He didn’t press you, though.
Steve was out for the night. Based on his mood earlier, you knew he likely wouldn’t be back until the next morning, if not afternoon. You didn’t mind, though. You quite liked having the house to yourself where you didn’t feel his heavy presence looming over you. It gave you time to think and study in peace.
You were deep into making flashcards for your Anthropology class when you heard a noise coming from the garage.
With a sigh, you tossed the index cards onto your bed and went downstairs.
While you knew any kindness or compassion was wasted on him, you still felt compelled to help him when he was lost in a drunken haze. Perhaps that made you a fool. Or perhaps you felt you could bring back the best in him, which definitely made you a fool.
Knowing it was a bad idea, you still wandered to the garage and sighed as you opened the door.
A figure was shuffling around, oblivious to you.
“Steve?” You called.
He turned around and you felt the hairs on your arms and neck raise.
Rumlow stared back at you, viscous gleam in his eyes.
“Oh what do we have here?” He smirked and slowly walked towards you. “Haven’t you heard? Curiosity killed the cat.”
You backed up inside the house and tried to close the door but he wedged himself in the frame before you could.
With too much ease, he shoved you to the floor where you pushed yourself back before trying to run to the front door.
He was on you before you could get into the living room.
“What do you want?” You whimpered when you felt him put more of his weight on you, pressing you into the discolored linoleum kitchen floor.
“I was just gonna steal some cash from the stash Rogers keeps back there. Didn’t think you were home,” he said as he grabbed your wrists, stopping you from trying to push him off. “But now that you’ve seen me…”
“I won’t say anything, just please let me go,” you pleaded.
“Oh kitten, I know you won’t talk,” he hummed before he ripped your shirt down the middle. “Because if you do, I’ll come find you.”
You began to wiggle out of his hold, your breathing hitched, but he had you pinned under him.
“And when I find you, you’ll think back to this moment and realize I was going easy on you.”
You released a high pitched wail as loud as you could muster when he ripped your leggings off.
“Make all the noise you want, kitten. This far out, no one will hear you scream.”
Runlow left a few hours ago but you couldn’t peel yourself off the floor. Your gaze was trained on the ceiling above, imagining shapes in the aged paint.
Steve could’ve come back at any moment, and you didn’t want him to find you. With the rest of your strength, you pulled yourself up, wincing at the pain in your limbs and core and trying not to gag at the sticky feeling between your thighs. You limped to the bathroom where you removed your shredded clothes.
Your skin was already starting to discolor, and there were dark splotches along your neck where Rumlow sucked a few bruises and even bit you in several places, some of which drew blood. Your lip was split and you saw the start of what would be a bruised cheekbone.
You didn’t remember the shower, only that you took one until the water ran cold.
You didn’t remember getting into bed either, only that you gathered your tattered clothes and put them in a plastic bag to take to the garbage.
Sleep never came to you that night. You found yourself staring at the window as the dark blue sky eventually turned a deep shade of purple, and then pink.
The nearest drugstore was about a thirty minute walk. You knew it opened early, and you needed Plan B.
So you pulled on fresh clothes-- long sleeves to hide the bruises on your arms, and a scarf to hide your neck. Luckily, it was late autumn, and it wouldn’t look suspicious to be so covered.
You felt a rusted, sardonic laugh bubble from inside you, hoarse from all the screaming. All of this, because you wanted to do the right thing.
The drugstore was the one you witnessed Peter damn near kill another man. You stood in the same place you stood that night, but everything looked different now that your perspective changed.
Peter was a friend now, someone good you could trust. Standing in the very lot that landed you in your predicament, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually good, or if he appeared good because the company he kept was worse.
A single lit candle looks like the sun when darkness was all that was known before.
It did little to dwell on it. It did little to dwell on anything.
The house was empty when you came back, but that was for the best.
You took the first dose of the contraceptive, and crawled back into bed.
Steve didn’t notice anything out of place when he came home. Despite it being close to noon, he didn’t see you around, but why would he? He made damn sure you’d avoid him.
He never intended to get close to you, never intended to act on any of the things he felt. He couldn’t stop himself though. Your eyes beckoned him in closer with the docile glow that seemed to radiate from you, like a moth to a flame. You emitted warmth, light, and goodness. The dark in him wanted you, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to bask in your light or snuff it out.
What scared him most was that you wanted him back.
So he stayed away.
But in your naivety, you sought him out and he indulged himself from time to time.
It wasn’t until he nearly fucked you on the couch that he realized he needed to stop. You deserved better, far better than he could ever give you, and he wanted you to see that.
So it wasn’t unusual for you to keep your distance.
But when he didn’t see or hear from you in a few days, he became concerned.
Knocking on your door woke you up.
“It’s me,” you heard Peter call.
Or course. Steve wouldn’t care to look for you.
“It’s open,” you said.
Peter walked into the room, but you remained on your bed, turned away from him, knowing the bruise on your cheek and your scabbed lip would cause suspicion.
“Uh, hey. I haven’t seen you around. No one has. You okay?” He asked, cautious in his delivery.
“Yeah, I’m just tired, that's all.”
The desk creaked, and you assumed he leaned against it.
“You can talk to me, you know,” he encouraged.
“I know, I’m just tired though,” you repeated.
You heard Peter grunt softly and he breathed out, ready to leave when you heard him kick something, which toppled over.
“Shit, sorry, I-” When you didn’t hear anything else, you turned and looked.
The small trash bin was on its side, some of its contents spilling onto the floor, one of which was the box of Plan B you had yet to throw away. You hadn’t left your room enough to get to it.
Peter stared at the box, brows furrowed, before he glanced at you. His eyes widened when he saw your face and neck.
“Oh God, what happened?” Peter gasped before ticking his jaw. “Did Steve do that?”
“No!” You said emphatically. “I’m fine… just…”
You tried to hold back the tears but couldn’t.
“Hey, hey hey,” he nearly cooed as he walked towards you but you flinched away and he stopped. “Please, tell me who did that to you?”
You swallowed, but it did nothing for the lump in your throat.
“Rumlow… nearly a week ago,” you whispered.
You glanced at Peter, and the sweet boyish face you’d come to know was replaced with something harsh in his fury. There, that was the man you saw in the parking lot so long ago.
“We gotta tell Steve,” his voice was low, guttural.
“No!” You nearly shouted. “Please don’t tell. I don’t want anyone knowing, just… let it go, please.”
When he didn’t respond, you felt tears stream down your face.
“Please,” you begged.
His face softened at your weeping form, and with no idea how to handle the situation, he reluctantly nodded.
Steve and the others were at their usual bar. The place was on the busier side, the regulars scattered about. The occasional clang of pool balls hitting each other rang out, adding to the noise of shouting matches and raucous laughter.
It wasn’t uncommon to see members of different clubs there, some friendly, some not. It was an unspoken rule that the bar was neutral ground, so most kept to themselves or played nice.
So when Steve saw Rumlow approach them, he thought nothing of it.
He didn’t notice the way Peter nearly raised his hackles at the other man.
“Slow night?” Rumlow asked with a lazy smirk.
“Just relaxing,” Bucky said and gulped down his beer.
“Right right,” the other man dismissed. “Say, you gonna watch the game this Sunday?”
No one particularly liked having Rumlow around, but it was beneficial for them to stay friendly, even if it meant putting up with him.
“Yeah, might have some of the boys over,” Steve sighed.
“Kinda miss that cute little maid of yours,” Rumlow chuckled and Steve didn’t like the way he referred to you. There was something sinister in the way he licked his lips.
He was willing to let it go, but Peter nearly launched himself at the older man, landing a hard punch to the jaw.
“Woah what the fuck?” Bucky immediately got up and pulled him away.
“What the hell, Parker?” Rumlow spat as he rubbed his jaw.
The bar went silent.
“Y’all know the rules, if you’re gonna fight, take it outside,” the bartender yelled.
“Get your toddler under control,” Rumlow sneered at Steve before heading outside. “Or meet me outside, and we can settle this like men.”
Steve pulled Peter away from the group.
“Kid, what the fuck?” He scolded.
“Nothing, just… fuck that guy,” Peter grumbled.
“Come on, man, what’s going on? You can’t just attack him. None of us like him, but you know the rules.”
Peter gritted his teeth and nodded.
“What’s with the attitude?” Steve sighed before saying your name. He saw Peter’s expression change slightly, from unbridled rage to something softer. “This about her?”
Peter opened his mouth to say something but didn’t.
“Look, I figured you were sweet on her, but you can’t attack people who talk about her,” Steve sighed.
The younger man snapped his head towards him.
“It’s not that at all.”
“Then what is it?”
Steve saw the conflict wash over his face before he shook his head, regret flickering through his features.
“Rumlow raped her,” Peter admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Steve’s heart nearly stopped.
“A couple weeks ago. Found some Plan B in her trashcan. It’s why she hasn’t been around much. She asked me not to tell anyone, but that smug motherfucker brought her up-”
Steve walked away before he could finish.
Rumlow was in the parking lot, cursing at Rollins and a few of his men.
“You put that kid in time out?” Rumlow shouted when he noticed the blonde stalking his way. His eyes widened slightly when he realized Steve’s pace never let up.
Without missing a beat, Steve’s fist collided with Rumlow’s cheek, sending him to the ground.
Steve didn’t hold back as he wailed on him, feeling his knuckles split open from pounding against the other man’s teeth. It did little to slow him down.
“Hey hey,” Sam and Bucky went to pull Steve off but he snapped his head towards them before they could get near.
“Stay the fuck away,” he roared.
Before anyone could stop him, he got off of Rumlow and dragged him further away. Vaguely, Steve heard more arguing and punching, his men and Rumlow’s likely fighting each other off.
“You raped her?” Steve hissed so no one else could hear.
Rumlow smirked, stretching the torn patches of skin on his lips, bloodied saliva coating his teeth red.
“So the little bitch told you after all?” He taunted. “Tight little pussy, that one has.”
Steve punched him, but Rumlow clumsily dodged.
“She cried so sweetly the entire time,” he continued, and Steve swung again, which Runlow barely stepped out of the way. “Didn’t stop her from moaning like a slut when she came, though.”
He was tackled to the ground immediately after, where Steve didn’t hold back the barrage of punches against his face and chest.
He wanted to kill Rumlow and would have if the red and blue glow of impending police cruisers didn’t stop him. By the time Steve pulled away, Rumlow was unconscious, his face barely recognizable.
Steve still felt raw anger pulsating through him when he came home. Knowing what had happened under his roof while he was nowhere around to stop it had him hating himself as much as he did Rumlow.
“Fuck,” he yelled and hit the kitchen table hard enough to splinter some of the wood. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey, but before he could take a swig, he threw it against a wall where it shattered, trails of liquor running down the discolored wallpaper.
“Steve?” He heard you call out.
The noise had tipped you off, and you were terrified, unsure if Rumlow had come back. But then you heard Steve yell.
You were never more relieved to see him, though you still weren’t sure what state of mind he was in.
He looked at you, and the rage immediately disappeared as he took in your frightened expression.
“You’re hurt,” you said.
Steve’s knuckles were cut open and bleeding, as was his lip.
You grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and approached him wearily, unsure if he’d let you near him. He did, and you gestured for him to sit down at the table.
After everything he did and said to you, you still wanted to help him. His heart felt heavy.
No words were exchanged as you cleaned his hands. He was eerily calm, not even flinching when you dabbed an alcohol soaked cotton ball on his knuckles.
You never asked how he got injured, not after he refused to answer you the dozens of times you asked before.
“Peter told me about Rumlow,” Steve muttered, breaking the silence.
You felt panic rising in your chest, and you stared at a stain on the table. You were about to get up and return to your room, where you felt at least a little safe, but Steve’s voice took you out of your thoughts.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asked, nearly begging.
“I don’t know,” you breathed, still avoiding his gaze.
You felt his fingers gently push your chin up so you could look him in the eye. He looked at you so delicately, silently urging you to tell him the truth.
“I… I didn’t think you’d care,” you said after a small pause, your eyes looking off to the side as you tried to blink away tears.
Steve dropped his hand and you lowered your head and peered at him through the veil of your eyelashes.
A mixture of horror and remorse was etched into his features, from his furrowed brows to his slightly agape mouth. He ran a hand over his face and across his beard before shaking his head and standing up.
“Steve, where are you going?” You asked, panicked.
“Finishing what I started,” he said as he headed towards the front door.
You rushed after him frantically. Your legs felt like they were weighed down with ice, but you stumbled towards him with all your energy.
“No, no, please!” You called and it seemed to fall upon deaf ears. It wasn’t until you grabbed his arm that he stopped and turned towards you. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me.”
“No one’s getting hurt because of you, they’re getting hurt because of what he did,” he growled and nearly had the door open.
“Please, just… stay here,” you begged.
His eyes softened as they roamed over your form.
“I don’t like being here alone,” you choked out.
Steve felt a lump in his throat at your confession.
Of course you didn’t like being at his house alone. No one was there to protect you.
The dam you built over the weeks to hold back all you felt broke. The emotional toll came down on you, a deluge of grief. Feelings you couldn’t process finally came out as you looked down and began to cry.
You shuddered a little when you felt Steve wrap his arms around you, but felt him relax when you melted into his embrace.
“I’ll stay,” his voice was tender, soft.
You sat next to him on the couch, and he didn’t ask you any questions, just reminded you of his presence by occasionally stroking your arm or urging you to rest your head against his shoulder.
“I was wrong,” he said.
“When I called you weak. You’re not.”
You felt the sting of fresh tears pricking the corners of your swollen eyes.
“Compassion takes a lot of strength,” he said. “More than people like me ever give credit for.”
Things were a bit awkward at first-- Steve wasn’t sure how to navigate around you, but in time, he found you just wanted to be treated like before.
No one talked about Rumlow. You didn’t know where he was, only that Steve assured you he’d never hurt you again. It was a good enough answer for you.
He was home more often, too, rarely keeping you alone unless he had to leave. Even then, he asked Peter to come over and keep you company.
Steve was kinder with you, much like how he was when he wanted to be sweet. The soft gazes he used to give you returned, far more delicate this time around, and it made your heart flutter. You weren’t sure how to handle it.
With every every airy beat was a cold aftershock.
In time, however, you began to open up to him. While you never went into detail about that night, you told him what had happened, and you could see the array of anger and guilt flash across his features as you spoke.
Shortly after, Steve told you he found a different house and he was moving. He never gave you permission to leave his service, so you assumed your arrangement would remain the same.
“How have things been?” Peter asked when he saw you taping closed a box of newspaper wrapped plates.
“Just a lot of packing,” you answered.
“Do you like the new house?”
You thought about it for a moment. It was definitely not what you expected Steve to get, but that didn’t mean it was bad. You liked it.
“It’s nice. A lot more modern than this one. It’s closer to other people, though, so I was a little surprised Steve picked it.”
“You know why, right?”
You furrowed your brows.
“No, but he never really seemed to like this one.”
“He didn’t want you staying here because...”
Your breath hitched.
“Oh, I… I’m sure that’s not why,” you sputtered. “I feel like he wouldn’t keep me around as a maid if that’s all it was.”
Peter smiled at you, knowing but warm.
“He loves you, you know.”
“What?” You squeaked.
“I don’t know if it’s love yet, but it could be. But I know he cares about you a lot.”
“I- Peter, I don’t think that’s it.”
He didn’t say anything else, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable.
Over the next few days, you thought about what he said. It made your heart race, but you weren’t sure if it was fear or desire. Perhaps a mixture of both.
The new house was about the same size as the last one, but didn’t creak nearly as much. Steve pointed you towards one of the guest rooms and said you could stay there. Though you had few possessions left, you still wanted to unpack and get settled, exhausted from the move.
But before you could open a box, Steve stopped by.
“You don’t have to stay here,” he said.
When you didn’t respond, he continued.
“If you want to leave, you can.”
He didn’t say anything else before he walked off, leaving you with a choice, the first real one you had in a very long time.
Nightfall came and you couldn’t sleep, the possibilities running through your head.
Freedom was so close, but what did that even mean anymore? The world you knew was gone. It changed, because you changed, and you didn’t know if you wanted to be back in it.
So you had to make a choice, and with all the confidence you had left, you got up.
With delicate care, you opened the door so the hinges wouldn’t squeak. Your footsteps were quiet as you made your way across the room. Steve's light snores let you know he was still sleeping, so you gently brushed a hand across his face.
His eyes snapped open and immediately focused on you.
"Is something wrong?" He asked, confusion lacing his sleep heavy voice, before sitting up. The thin bed sheet pooled at his hips, exposing his muscular chest. You could practically feel the heat rolling off of him.
You hesitated, unsure how to move forward without making him uncomfortable, but you thought about what Peter said and remembered the way Steve would look at you.
Slowly, you crawled onto the bed where you straddled his knees, keeping a little distance between you two.
Steve's breath hitched, and he moved his hands up before letting them fall back into his sides.
Trembling slightly, you cupped his face and felt your heart flutter at the soft sigh he released as he closed his eyes. Your thumb ran over his lip and you felt him run his fingers along your knee.
You leaned forward slowly and paused to give him a moment to back away if he wanted to. He didn't and instead closed the gap where his chapped lips brushed against your soft ones.
He kissed you with a measured, delicate touch, like he was afraid you'd run away.
When you pulled away, you saw the storm in his blue eyes, a battle between succumbing to his desires or doing what he felt was right.
"I-" he started before pausing. "I don't know if this is good for you."
You laughed softly much to his surprise.
"I don’t want to be defined by the bad things that have happened to me," you said. "I want this, Steve."
He nodded slightly, his hands finding their way to your hips where he pulled you closer. You could feel his hardening length brush your core through the sheets and layers of clothes, and you both gasped a little.
He pressed another kiss to your lips before whispering against them.
"Tell me if you want to stop and I will."
You nodded and he kissed you again, his hands wandering up your body. He lifted the oversized shirt and didn’t suppress the sigh upon seeing so much of you for the first time.
Hesitantly, he touched you, his fingers trailing over your soft skin before giving you another kiss.
Before you could register it, you were laying down under him, and he gently parted your legs so he could rest between them. You swallowed the gasp at the feeling of his hard length on your thigh and he stopped.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
“Yes,” you said and smiled at him, pulling him down to kiss him, which he readily accepted.
He broke away only to trail kisses down your neck to your chest where he ran a tongue around a nipple. You moaned a little and you felt Steve hum in satisfaction. He gave the other nipple the same amount of attention before travelling downward.
When he reached your panty glad core, he tugged them off gently, gauging your reaction. When you didn’t stop him, he parted your thighs before resting them on his shoulders. You felt his lips press against the soft skin at the apex of your thighs before you felt his tongue swirl around your clit.
You arched your back and moaned.
He took his time with you, starting slow, letting you get used to the feeling.
He flicked the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bud before a calloused finger pulled the hood of your clit back and sucked it in his mouth.
Your back bowed as you felt the band within you pull tighter and tighter.
A thick finger prodded your entrance and pushed inside, and you keened at the feeling. He moved it slowly within you before adding another, stretching your walls. He hit something within you that made your entire body pulse.
Another hard suck, and it snapped, the tension in your body relaxing all at once, a flood of bliss flowing through you as you clenched his fingers in waves. You didn’t even hear the moan you let out, but Steve did, and he wanted nothing more than to bring that sound out of you again.
When you came down from your high, Steve crawled back up your body, capturing your lips in a kiss, swallowing every sweet sigh.
“You did so good for me,” he whispered. You felt your core tremble at his praise.
He ran the head of his cock through your folds, and you gasped. He gathered your slick, preparing himself before positioning himself at your entrance.
“You ready?” He asked you and you nodded.
Slowly, he pushed inside and stopped when you made a pained noise.
“Keep going,” you whimpered and he obliged.
Soon, his entire length was in you, and gasped when he bottomed out.
“Taking me so well,” he murmured as he peppered kisses along your jaw and neck. “Let me know when you want me to move.”
He stayed in you, patient, letting your walls get used to his thick length. When the ache dulled out to a mild throbbing you nodded at him.
Slowly, he moved his hips.
You gasped at the feeling of his cock moving through your silken walls with ease, having prepared you so thoroughly for him. His head bumped against the same spot his fingers had moments before, and it had your toes curling at the feeling. You rolled your hips to meet his.
“Can I go faster?” He asked between strained grunts. His hair was in his face, a few strands stuck to the beads of sweat on his forehead. He looked beautiful like that.
“Please,” you mewled and he didn’t hold back the full bodied groan at your pleas.
“Let me know if it’s too hard,” he whispered into your ear as his thrusts got deeper.
You saw stars in the way he was pounding into you, hard enough to entice and always on the precipice of too much but never venturing past it.
Soon, you felt that band within you pull taught once more, and a few more thrusts had you falling over the edge, your pussy fluttering around his thick cock as you let out another sonorous moan.
“Fuck,” he groaned when he felt you clenching his cock, the sweet sounds you made urging him to completion.
“Please cum inside me,” you asked him when you felt him leave.
He didn’t need to be asked again when he pushed his length into your overwrought core.
Warmth flooded you, and you gasped a little bit. It felt right.
Both of you were out of breath and he stayed inside you. A satisfied smile graced his lips and he kissed you once more.
You sniffled a little, tears pooling in your eyes.
Steve cupped your face and you nearly laughed at the panicked look in his eyes.
“Did I-”
“No,” you assured him and smiled. “That was amazing. I just wish…”
You paused.
“I wish… the first time was like that.”
He looked at you with so much tenderness and adoration, you felt your heart skip a few beats.
“As far as I’m concerned, this was your first time,” he said, doubtless in his words.
You nodded, feeling a few tears roll down your face, and he leaned down to kiss them away.
You didn’t know what the future held, where you were going, how this would end. You didn’t care. As Steve held you in his arms, you drifted into a peaceful sleep, one you hadn’t had in a long time.
Note: Ahhh what a long journey! Thank you to everyone for sticking with me! I know this was a longer read!
I don't have a taglist, so please follow @sweetlyscared-library for updates!
As always, comments and reblogs, and reblogs with comments make my day and are always appreciated!
Update: It's been about a day and a half since I posted this fic, and I got a lovely anon hate message that's making me want to address something:
When Rumlow tells Steve the reader "moaned like a slut when she came," please do not take that as anything other than a piece of shit rapist being awful. He was taunting Steve.
It's normal and common for rape survivors to orgasm during their assault. It doesn't mean they wanted it, it doesn't mean they enjoyed it, and it doesn't make them a slut (and there's nothing wrong with being a slut, anyway). It's a natural reaction to being stimulated in that area. It's like crying when chopping onions. You're not sad, it's just your eyeballs responding to fumes in the air.
The reason why I never wrote the Reader feeling ashamed for orgasming is because she knew it was a natural response. So she didn't consider it something she needed to feel bad for.
Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
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darkbucky · a day ago
Hi, do you know the bucky fic serie where he rapes the reader because he is jealous of how much time she spends with steve (steve is like a father figure.) i think she made a mistake on a mission so bucky holds that over her so he can take advantage of her body and tells her that if she doesnt he tell steve
Idk if I'm familiar with it, but there's a small part in my brain that feels like I've read something like that; I'm not too certain..
It might've been a one shot that I've read and not a series 🤔
I'm sorry I couldn't help you out 🙃 maybe anyone who sees this can.
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 days ago
Hellfire: Part 4
We’re his eyes deceiving him? Was the torrential downpour that came after the weeks of unrelenting heat caused him to see things? He must’ve been noticing something beyond the norm, or maybe he wasn’t hallucinating.
Maybe the figure he was seen walking in the pouring rain was who he thought it was. Perhaps you were the one trapped in the torrential storm with near-constant shivering afflicting you. It was not when Steve saw the figure he showed his car down and pulled to a stop. He slammed the gear into the park and opened his door to get out and have a conversation with whoever was stranded.
When he set foot on the concrete, he realized that he was correct. The figure walking in the pouring rain was the woman he couldn’t get out of his head, the woman who had settled into himself like air in his lungs and blood in his veins.
“Y/N!” Steve yelled your name, watching as you raised your head and looked around confused and bewildered until your eyes came to rest on him. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”
He crossed the small distance, the thick and heavy raindrops soaking his flesh and his grey hoodie, creating this chill in his body that he felt almost instantly. As he stepped beside you, he shoved his hands in his pockets and focused his weight on toes instead of his heels.
“Leave me alone.” You grumbled, your arms wrapped around your waist. “Please…”
“What are you doing in the rain? You’ll get sick.” Steve reached for your hand, his fingers grazing against the underside of your wrist. “Come on, honey. Let me drive you home.”
“I don’t want to go home.” You frowned and turned your head, using your right hand to wipe the rain from your face. You were shivering, and your lips were starting to appear as if they could turn blue at any minute. You looked miserable, and that wasn’t just because of the way you were soaked through your clothes.
You had been standing there for just a moment, and it was a moment long enough for Steve to quickly pick up on your shivering, your shaking and the way your knees looked as if you were about to give under.
“You’re not arguing with me, Y/N.” Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked his arm under your knees. He hoists you up, noting the lack of fight, as he made his way back to the vehicle. Your head was lobbed against his, your eyes unfocused, and your lips pursed.
He carried you to his vehicle and propped the door open with one hand. Steve set you down in the seat and leaned in, his arms rubbing up and down the sleeves of your soaked shirt to bring you some warmth.
“What were you doing out there, Y/N?” Steve mumbled, moving his left hand from your arm to your cheek. “Hey, look at me….”
“He’s leaving.” You whispered, your eyes screwed tight, your nose scrunched.
“Who’s leaving?” Steve reached across your body with your seatbelt in his hands, securing the buckle. When he was finished, Steve focused as much heat as he could into your side of the vehicle, blasting you with warm air.
“Peter.” You opened your eyes and stared at Steve with sad, tear-filled eyes. Your heart was breaking within the depths of his rises, and for the moment, he was rendered unable to breathe or form words. All he could do was look at you and study your beauty, study how breathtaking you were even while being so physically upset. “Peter’s leaving.”
“You’re cold,” Steve felt your forehead, frowning when you shivered against him, “honey, you need to go home and get warm.”
“I don’t want to go home,” you mumbled again and shift in him the passenger seat, turning away from him, “anywhere but home.”
Steve brushed your wet hair behind your ear and continued the stroke down the side of your neck. He hummed quietly, and then he pulled away and closed the door, jogging around the other side of the vehicle. When he got into the driver’s side, he yanked the door closed he turned lightly to face you.
“You don’t want to go home; where can I take you? Hmm?”
You lifted your head and focusing your gaze on him, lazily blinking as exhaustion settled into you from the cold snd the argument you’d had with Peter.
“I don’t care, Father Rogers. I don’t want to go home. I don’t….”
“Are you hungry?” Steve asked, tapping your cheek when it appeared as if you were going to fall asleep. “You need to answer me, Y/N.”
You yawned and pulled your knees up to your chest after sitting sideways. Your hands were tucked into your armpits, and your nose was brushing against the cloth of the passenger’s seat. You were tired; you were hungry. You felt like Peter had taken your heart and smashed it.
“Take me to your place. Could you take me to a shelter? Just don’t take me home. I can’t face my parents now.” You cried; you begged and pleaded.
“I’m going to take you to my place.” Steve felt his throat constricting. “I’ll get you warm clothes and something to eat, okay? Sweetheart?”
He spoke, yet in between the moments, you’d fallen asleep. The soft whimpers and whispers made in your sleep were endearing, and Steve took a moment to hear them, to watch you sleep peacefully.
And then, he was driving again.
** **
Your head was pounding. Your throat was tight and scratchy, and when you moved, you ached. You knew you weren’t in your bed the moment you rolled over and caught sight of the dark oak nightstands and the thick quilted comforter on your bed.
You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and attempted to pull your body from the warmth of the bed and the comforter. When you had finally managed to remove yourself from the desirable heat, you stumbled on shaky legs and fell to the floor.
You groaned and gripped the bed frame with all your might and pushed yourself to stand. Your movements were shaky, your knees weak as you stood step by agonizing step.
Your whole body ached, your throat felt like sandpaper, your head was throbbing like a jackhammer, and you were as cold as the most northern tip of the Arctic.
You reached the door and opened it, slipping out of the room. You took slow steps, much like you had in the bedroom, fighting out the waves of nausea that threatened to send you hurtling to the floor with spew up to soak the foot. You kept your head down, and your eyes narrowed and crinkled while moving from the bedroom down the hall to the opening of a kitchen and the living room to your left.
“You’re awake,” Father Rogers was sitting on the couch with a book in his hands that he had quickly snapped as he stood snd removed himself from the sofa, “how are you feeling?”
“Terrible,” you complained, slowly inching forward, “I’m in your home?”
Father Rogers exchanged his robes and his waistcoat and dress shirts for a plain grey cotton t-shirt and a pair of dark blue sweats. Like the waistcoat and dress shirt, this combination had done an incredible wonder for Steve and his physical appearance, and more than once, you caught yourself staring.
“Yes,” he shoved his hands in his sweat pockets, “you didn’t want to go home. I wasn’t going to take you to the shelter. But I did call your parents.”
You cupped your head, your fingernails digging into your scalp.
“My parents are going to kill me,” you hissed when you heard the doorbell ringing.
Father Rogers moved from the kitchen and the living room open floor plan to the entryway adjacent to the kitchen. He shot you a sympathizing look before he unlocked the door snd opened it, your parents coming rushing in.
“Y/N M/N L/N!” Your mother screeched. “You had us worried sick! We had no idea where you were, what you were doing and-“
“-Can you stop yelling? My head is killing me.”
“Did you get drunk?! Y/N I cannot believe that you would even think to “
“Y/N was with me, Mrs. L/N.” father Rogers moved toward you, his hand resting against your hip. “It’s my fault.”
Your mother stopped talking and snapped her jaw shut, her accusing eyes moving between you and the priest. Your father was a man who was undoubtedly influenced by your mother and had, all in all, done what she wanted when she wanted. He wouldn’t provide any support.
“I’m sorry, Father Rogers. I don’t know, understand..?”
“Y/N,” he squeezed your hip as a warning to play along with the charade that he was crafting to get you out of trouble, “and I have decided to start seeing each other. Your daughter came over last night to watch a movie, and after showing symptoms of being sick, I couldn’t let her drive home.”
Your mother’s eyes lit up, and her smile had replaced the frown on her face. She clenched her hands tight and made a sound that was crossed between a shriek, an excited squeal and a gasp.
“Oh!” She reached forward and squeezed you tightly. “This is the most amazing news!”
You winced and squeezed your forehead again. You screwed your eyes shut tight and shift your weight from your right foot to your left foot.
“Why don’t you go back to bed, hmm? I’ll bring you some tea.” Father Rogers squeezed your hand again before he leaned down and brushed his lips against your ear. “I can take you home later; for now, let me entertain your parents.”
You were too tired to argue. You felt like you’d been dragged behind a train, and that was on top of all the pain you felt from Peter.
“I am so happy for you, Y/N.” your mom reached out to squeeze hug you again, only to be stopped by Father Rogers.
“Y/N needs rest, Mrs. L/N. Let her go rest, and we’ll go talk.”
You moved back toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. You rolled your eyes and shuffled your feet, confused and sick and tired and hungry and in pain.
You made it back to bed and had enough energy to lift yourself under the covers before your head the pillow, and you went back to sleep.
You’d talk to Steve later.
** **
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