#soft!dark steve

[kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay]

A different kind of Haunted

Summary: You and your friends visit a haunted house, but what you find is not what you expected.

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!reader (plus-size)

Warnings: 18+content, self-esteem issues/body image issues, stalking, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual sexual acts, mentions of loss (close family members), breeding kink

Word count: 8.6k (I am incapable of writing short things, forgive me)

A/N: This is my submission for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Halloween writing challenge. Bless you for making this challenge open-ended, truly, because I cannot meet deadlines for the life of me. Especially since my inspiration has died in a corner behind my closet and I couldn’t get to its rotting corpse until a few weeks ago. I managed to revive that little shit. It’s... different now but we gotta work with what we got, lol 😂

Anyhow, my prompt was “Your friends dare you to sneak into the old house said to be haunted.” 

I interpreted it in a way that may not be what you expect, but I liked the idea so much and I hope y’all like it too! ☺️

...

You blow out a low sigh, eyes tracking the clowd of your warm breath as it hangs in the cold air around you. Your hands are frozen, cold fingers curling around the edges of the book you're holding.

The end of October came with a harsh drop in temperature and to you it feels like nature decided to skip autumn alltogether to dive headlong into the cold, dark winter months.

If it wasn't for the colourful leaves scattering about the cold ground and floating through the air, driven by freezing winds, you could have sworn it is winter already.

You close the book – a rather lenghty novel you couldn't quite get into – and set it down on the bench next to you. Stretching out your legs in front of you, you supress a ywan and glance at the neatly arranged plants decorating the rectangular grave a few feet away from where you sit.

It had taken a while for you to get the hang of maintaining your parents' grave. Your eyes wander over the small, grey headstone that has their names and the dates of their birth and death etched into it. The latter is the same.

The first couple of months you hadn't done much of anything but sit at the grave and cry your eyes out for hours on end, but as time passed, you slowly gathered the shattered pieces of your being and put them back together in a manner that has you functioning more or less.

You did research on how to maintain graves, took walks around the graveyard to get some inspiration from the numerous other graves and eventually settled into properly taking care of the one that was, and still is, your responsibility.

This is the first time you actually planted some things instead of just putting loose flowers or arrangements on the slightly overgrown grave. It was a tedious task, but you still remember the sense of accomplishment you felt when you looked at the neatly groomed grave, long lasting flowers and greens framing the simple headstone.

The nice lady at the flower shop was really helpful with choosing the correct plants. You got a pretty Christmas Rose, an extraordinary kind with pinkish petals instead of the usual white or green, a pink heather, a plant with little red berries on it – gaultheria, you recall the name the florist told you – and a pretty ivy that had nice white edges instead of being fully green like the normal kind.

It's not overly colourful, but the flowers would survive the winter and make sure the grave doesn't look too bleak during the cold months of the year.

You shake your head, pulling yourself out of the reverie you had fallen into and push to your feet with a grunt, stiff legs wobbly under you. The book is stowed away in your backpack and you walk up to the grave, two fingers sweeping along the headstone.

“See you tomorrow, guys. Love you,” you say quietly, the familiar prick of welling tears promting you to quickly turn away and gaze out at the bench before leaving for the day. You will return tomorrow, as you do every day.

You tredge along the same path you always take, tall trees and bushes lining it on both sides. There's a quiet crack in the underbrush to your left, but you know better than to turn around and check for the source.

The first months you were terrified of walking along the quiet paths alone, jerking at every crack or rustle, but with time you learned that there's many a critter living in the hedges or tall trees growing everywhere on the large graveyard.

Birds, squirrels, bunnies, one or the other stray cat and more than a few moles call the graveyard their home and none of them are very threatening.

You keep walking, feet dragging across the path, fallen leaves crunching under the soles of our thick boots. After about five minutes you near the gate and pass it swiftly, stepping out into the street and leaving the eerie quiet of the graveyard behind.

-

“Guys!” Georgie screeches, wild curls bouncing around her round face as she hops over to the small group of girls standing outside their lecture hall.

The girls turn around to watch their classmate approach. She's holding a piece of paper in one hand, the other is waving at them excitedly. When she stops before them, she's a little out of breath.

“Look what I found! Now we finally have plans for Halloween!” the tall girl exclaims triumphantly and waves the paper in front of their faces. Nika, a short blonde, lets out an irritated huff and snatches the fluttering piece of paper from her friend's hand.

“Gimme that,” she says gruffly, annoyed at Georgie's excitable demeanour. She straightens the slightly crumpled piece of paper out – a flyer – and scans the text printed on the colourful background, obviously Halloween themed.

“A haunted house, really?” Nika snorts and hands the flyer back to Georgie. The tall girl pouts at the other's unenthusiastic response and holds the paper to her chest.

“What? None of you have come up with any good suggestions yet and we're not spending Halloween on Hailee's couch watching horror movies again,” Georgie argues, handing the paper off to Jasmine who is standing next to her.

“Where did you find this, Gigi? I don't think I've heard anyone else talking about this event,” the brunette asks, passing the flyer on to Hailee as you watch on, brows raised and growing increasingly curious about what it says on the flyer.

“The flyer looks real enough, there's even a date on it... Is there a prize or something for doing this? Or is that just one of these haunted houses someone decorated that you can walk through to get spooked?” Hailee ponders, turning the paper over, but finding the back blank.

“I don't know, it doesn't say on the flyer. But whatever it is, I'm sure it beats staying at home and doing nothing. We should go out a little, have fun,” the curly-haired girl shrugs.

“It says to brings warm clothes, snacks and something to sit on,” you state, brows pinching in confusion at the instructions.

“Oh, yeah. Read at the bottom. You're only allowed to go in one at a time. The others have to wait outside. I doubt you guys wanna stand in the cold and freeze your but off. Hence the warm clothes, snacks and something to rest on,” Georgie explains.

You skip to the bottom and read the words confirming what Georgie said. You hum and scan the flyer for the address. When you see it, you make a sound at the back of your throat.

“What is it?” Nika asks, leaning forward to look at the flyer again.

“I know where this is. It's next to the graveyard. The property borders on one side of it, I can see it from where I usually sit. Well, the part of it that peeks over the old fence anyway. That place is old as hell though. I don't know if it's safe to walk around there,” you note.

“If it wasn't safe, then I doubt someone would offer a haunted house tour. For free, too! I guess that means it might not be the most high-quality experience, but we can still have fun,” Georgie says.

“Mh, I suppose so,” Jasmine agrees with a shrug. “I don't have anything better to do anyway. Not planning on going to any of the campus parties, they get out of hand way too quickly. I don't like the rowdy atmosphere.”

“True. We could bring food and drinks. I have an insulated picnic blanket and with a few pillows we could set up camp in front of the house,” Hailee pipes up.

“I have a portable space heater! Don't want to freeze my ass off waiting outside,” Nika adds, still a little reluctant. She doesn't seem too convinced, but if the rest of the group is going to join in on this little venture, she won't say no.

“I can bring my portable speaker. Some music can never hurt,” Georgie says, a wide grin spreading on her face as her friends come around to her idea.

You sigh, still not too sure about this endeavour. The porperty was old, falling apart. And now apparently also 'haunted'.

“Come ooon, don't leave us hanging,” Georgie whines you name. She must've seen undecided expression on your face.

With a roll of your eyes you hand the paper back to her and grumble your agreement.

“Yay! Okay, okay, we'll plan this out later in the group chat yeah? I can make a list of things we need and everyone throws in what they can bring,” the tall girls says, stuffing the flyer back into her bag, already fully entering her planning mode.

You agree together with the other girls, the idea slowly sinking in. You suppose hanging out with your friends is better than holing away in your room to study or binge-watch whatever series catches your attention.

Even if the haunted house turns out to be a fluke, you still have music, food, drinks and your friends. That alone is more than enough for a good time. You'd enjoy it. Getting out of the house will be good for you.

-

The sky is already dark when you arrive. The soft glow of the few interspersed street lights do little to brighten the dark, eerie street.

The graveyard is located in a quieter area of the city, most houses in the close vicinity run down and abadnoned. No one wants to live anywhere near where the dead are buried.

You walk along the asphalt of the sidewalk, the old path uneven with many cracks in it where the roots of old trees broke through or an especially persistent weed fought its way to the surface.

You can already see your friends, hear them too, when you near the property. They already set up camp, so to say, a few lanterns and the space heater placed around the big blanket that sits in the middle of the overgrown lawn that sprawls in front of the wooden porch at the front of the house.

Georgie calls out your name when she sees you entering through the iron-wrought gate, the old thing creaking in its hinges when you push it open with a huff.

“Hey! You're the last. We've already got everything set up. Come one,” the curly-haired girl says cheerily, patting the free space on the blanket next to her.

You walk over and greet the others before plopping down on the blanket with a groan. Your thick puffer jacket swishes and bunches out around your middle when you sit down, the collar moving higher with the shift. You tilt your chin up and adjust the jacket so it doesn't cover half your face.

“That jacket really isn't flattering,” Nika points out with a half smile, not necessarily mean-spirited, but rather honest in an unfiltered way.

You roll your eyes and try to smooth down the puffed out front with little success. You instinctively try to suck in your stomach and straighten your back, but it doesn't change your appearance much.

“Don't be mean, Nika,” Jasmine interjects, sending you an apologetic smile while elbowing the blonde next to her. “Everyone looks a little round in these things, not only...”

Jasmine trails off, but you still hear the unspoken words floating in the air.

'Not only fat people'

Well, she probably would've phrased it a little more flowery, saying something along the lines of solidly build, chunky, curvy, soft, chubby or plump. Basically anything to avoid the word 'fat'.

You don't mind much. People need to get over the stigma that is connected to the word and you know very well you have a few extra pounds to you.

Most of the time it doesn't bother you too much, having taken the time to try your best and grow comfortable with your body the way it is instead of trying to conform to the propaganda society throws at you every waking hour.

But in moments like this, when someone points out your extra bits so blatantly, the old self-consciousness and shame come crawling back out of the hole you buried them in.

“It keeps me warm and it's comfortable,” you say, shrugging non-commitedly and hoping to move on from the topic before more old demons are stirred up inside you.

“That's what matters, practicality over looks,” Hailee says and points up at her knitted cap. It's green and has two eyes attached to it so the hat resembles a frog. You recall her telling you her grandma had knitted it for her when she was a child. It may be quirky, but it it's warm and comfortable.

“True, true,” Georgie says dimissively and then continues talking. “Anyway, now that we're all here, I suggest one of us should take the lead and get that haunted house experience.” She giggles gleefully, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she eyes her friends.

“The first is always the most exciting! The rest of us can can get started on the drinks and plating up the snacks. I'm starving,” Hailee adds, her green eyes glancing over to the pile of both home-made and bought snacks.

“Well, I guess that means you're going first,” Nika teases and nods at Hailee.

“What? Why me? I wanna eat first,” the girl whines. Nika snorts.

“You're the one who just said the first is the most exciting,” she retorts and then chuckles when she sees Hailee stick out her tongue.

“I don't wanna go first, I'm a crybaby. I need someone to tell me what's happening first or I'll pee my pants and die from a heartattack,” Jasmine declares dramatically, causing the rest of the girls to let out a mix of groans and laughter.

“It's just an old house, I doubt whoever organised what's inside put a lot of effort in,” you say and look up at the house looming over your group.

The windows are boarded up, a few of the shutters hanging only off of one hinge. The light blue paint once covering the wooden fassade is flaking off and the porch is almost overrun by wild growing weeds.

It is intimidating in a way, the sheer size of the slowly rotting building and the desolate windows that look like black maws giving it the typical horror movie feel.

“I don't even know if we're really allowed to be here. Maybe this belongs to someone. We could get in trouble for tresspassing,” you add, the thought only now popping into your head, rousing a whole new collection of concerns that start swirling in your head.

“I doubt it belongs to anyone. There aren't any signs and there was no indicator that said to stay away. The gate wasn't looked either,” Georgie says. “I mean, look at this place. I'm sure no one is missing it or would mind a couple of girls having a good time.”

She gestures at their surroundings and the other girls look around, mumbling their agreement.

You look around, too, taking in the wooden fence to your right. You know the graveyard is behind it. The rest of the property is surrounded by an old wire fence that has more holes than one could count. There is an old wooden shed towards the back of the garden on the left side of the house. The door is boarded up and the roof has a hole in it.

You let your gaze drift farther. Beyond the wire fence is a beaten path that leads past the property you and your friends reside on. You can barely make out a crumbling brick building on the other side of the path, this neighbouring building not looking any better than the one you are supposed to set foot in.

“I guess,” you agree reluctantly and shrug. Georgie rolls her eyes.

“I think you should go first, spoilsport. You can see for yourself there's nothing bad going on. Just a haunted house,” Georgie says and wiggles her eyebrows at you. You cross your arms.

“Why don't you go first?” you challenge, but Georgie just cackles and wags her finger at you.

“No, no, my friend. You're not getting out of that one. Come up, get your ass up,” she orders, digging her elbow into your side. You hiss and pull away.

“Fine, whatever,” you huff and heave yourself to your feel. Smoothing down your jacket, you make sure your phone is still in the pocket and straighten up fully. “If I die because some rotten floorboards give away under me, you're paying for my funeral.”

The girls laugh and you feel your lips twitch against your will.

“Just step lightly, you klutz. You're not that heavy,” Jasmine jokes and the small smile you wear quickly turns tense.

“Yeah, I guess not.”

There's a short moment of silence before Hailee pipes up.

“Oh! We should all take a selfie when we're inside. An additional challenge of sorts. Whoever gets the best picture in the creepiest setting wins!”

“Great idea, Hailee,” Georgie agrees and then turns to you. “Go on, we'll be waiting for you. You better get a good picture, too. I wanna make a collage with them so we never forget today.”

She shoos you away and you turn on your heel, waving over your shoulder as you walk towards the house. You almost prefer the house over your friends at the moment. They are nice enough, but some remarks are just needlessly rude. They just never seem to see it the way you do, telling you it was a joke or that you're overreacting.

“Get your crap together, this night is supposed to be fun,” you scold yourself and ascend the rickety stairs of the porch. When you approach the door, you see the same flyer Georgie showed the group a couple of days ago pinned to the brittle wood.

Pushing away any further hesitancy, you push down the handle and open the door. You can hear the girls shouting behind you, wishing you good luck.

You don't turn around, just step forward and let the door slowly swing back into place with a disturbing creak that echoes in the old house.

You take a deep breath and slowly walk forward, looking for any kind of clue that might tell you in which direction to go first. But there's nothing, or at least you don't see anything, so you set off towards the closest room.

It turns out to be a living room. The furniture is old, upholstery rotting and wood hollow from time. The floorboards groan under your feet, scattered paper and debris crunching under your boots. A stiff breeze rattles the windows and the entire house groans eerily.

You swallow hardly. There's nothing actually scary going on yet, no jumpscares or mysterious silhouettes in corners. And still, your fear mounts with every passing minute.

You don't like this anymore and you find yourself longing for some company. Going in alone was stupid. You should've just ignored the rule and went in teams.

Because now you are all allone in an old, creepy house, the rotten smell of decaying wood in the air and your mind playing tricks on you by making every shadow or foreign form out to be a creature waiting to bring your demise.

Whirling around, you quickly walk back out of the living room and enter the hallway you came from. Maybe you should just go back outside and pretend to having finsihed the tour.

You shake your head. They wouldn't buy it, you've barely been in here for five minutes.

As you stand and ponder over your options, still wincing at every unexpected sound or moving shadow, a flicker at the edge of your vision catches your attention.

You pivot and face the set of stairs leading to the first floor. There it is. A weak flicker dances across the wall at the end of the stairs. It's warm and unsteady, reminding you of a candle.

Your gaze sweeps along the other doors that lead away from the hallway and into more unknown rooms, then back to the flicker upstairs.

“Let's just get this over with,” you whisper to yourself, the sound of your voice loud and at odds with the symphony of creaks, groans and clattering that echoes through the house.

You head towards the stairs and start climbing them, one hand firmly on the rail should you slip or the wood give away. If you go upstairs now you'll be done quicker. You'll just have a quick look around, try to find a location for the picture and then leave. Easy peasy.

The stairs grown under your weight and you reach up to wipe your damp forehead, the skin wet from fear and worry. This whole haunted house thing is putting you through the ringer in a way you couldn't have antcipated.

Grumbling at your own silliness, you finally reach the top of the stairs. The light is brighter now and you look down both sides of the hallway. The flickering is coming from your left so you head in that direction, your heart pounding in your chest and a cold sweat breaking out along your back and under your pits.

'Maybe it's just some homeless people,' you think, your sweaty hands clutching at the phone you retrieved from your pocket once you reached the top of the stairs.

'Or a trick from the person who arranged this... It's nothing scary, nothing real. Stay calm.'

Tiptoeing towards the source of the light – a slightly ajar door at the end of the corridor – you try to measure your breaths. Every loud creak your steps cause make you wince.

“This is so stupid,” you breathe out. “Get your shit together.”

The door is right in front of you now and you take a few breaths, hyping yourself up and gathering enough courage to push the door open.

The wooden door moves ever so slightly under the gentle push of your fingertips and to your relief this particular door doesn't screech noisily. In fact, it glides open rather smoothly.

You peek around the wood, hands holding your phone to hard you're almost afraid the screen is gonna crack.

What you see is not at all what you expected.

The room, unlike every other part of the house you saw, is clean. There's no debris or paper littering the floor and the furniture looks old, but well kept. Like someone made the effort to patch it up and keep it in shape so it doesn't rot away like the rest of the furniture in the house.

“What the hell,” you mutter, pushing the door all the way open and straightening up.

A bed comes into view. The metal frame is a little rusty, but the mattress and everything on it looks new. This room lookes like someone's been living in it and while the house's dilaptidation couldn't be hidden entirely, it still looks decent.

The next strange thing are the candles lit everwhere, the source of the flickering you saw from downstairs. They are scattered across the floor around the bed, one candle is placed on each bedside table and a few more are placed on the other surfaces in the room.

Your eyes wander over the bizarre scene and you briefly throw a glance over your shoulder before stepping inside the room.

A window comes into view, embedded into the wall to your left. In front of it stands a wooden chair, a thing cushion placed on the seat. It's placed in a way to makes it seem like whoever put it there sat down on it to look outside. On the window sill sits a pair of binoculars.

Curious, but no less scared, you appraoch the chair and stand behind it to see what view would warrant the binoculars. You bend down a little and peer through the window and out into the dark.

It's hard to see outside, what with the candles inside the room reflecting off the window and the darkness of the night. Fortunately, the moon decided to shine in all it's glory that night, chasing away some of the impenetrable darkness.

“What...” you mumble, eyes honing in on the view.

The window faces the graveyard. It takes you a moment to realise it and when you do, you glance away from the view to look at the binoculars sitting on the sill. What on earth would a person be watching on a graveyard?

You carefully reach for the binoculars, another glance over your shoulder ensuring your solitude before you pick them up. As soon as you lift them from their place, you freeze.

Underneath the pair of clunky binoculars sits a sketch pad. The drawing on the first page is dark, drawn with coal by the looks of it. But that isn't what makes you halt your actions. It's the motive that chills you to the bone.

It's you, sitting on the bench by your parents' grave with a book in hand, your backpack sitting by your feet.

Dropping the binoculars, you hastily scurry away from the window. Your heartbeat picks up again, the organ thundering inside your chest, beating against your ribs frantically.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” you whisper, your sweaty fingers losing their grip on your phone. It clatters to the floor.

“Do you like it?”

You choke on a scream and jump. You heave out a cough and clumsily whirl around, feet twisting beneath you and making you stumble.

“Careful, sweetheart. You're gonna hurt yourself.”

A man steps past the threshold, his frame filling out the doorway as he ducks through and comes closer.

You want to scream, but you're still coughing up your spit, one hand pressed to you heaving chest as you back away from the approaching man.

His features are lit by the flickering candles, his huge body throwing an even bigger shadow against the wall. He raises his hands towards you and you finally manage to choke out a croaky screech.

“Hey, hey! That's not the reaction I was expecting, sweetheart,” the man scolds.

You try to make a run for it, your shaky legs compelling you to run, hide, get away from whoever this man, this stalker is.

Your efforts are quickly put to an end. The hulking giant of a man flings a thick arm out and catches you around the middle, yanking you back and cutting off your escape route.

You start to thrash immediately, your mouth opening to let out another scream. But before the sound can leave your lips and alert your waiting friends, the man's big hand clamps over your lips, sucessfully muffling the sound behind his huge palm.

Using his grip on both your face and midsection, he hauls your wriggling body against his, your back pressed to his broad chest. He meanly digs fingers into your face and you whimper, whipping your head side to side to try and dislodge his painful grip.

“I suggest you calm down, sweetheart. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Can't have you ruining it with your hysterics,” the growls lowly, the sound of his voice rumbling against your back.

You shake helplessly in his arms, tears of pure terror welling in your eyes as you keep thrashing in this stranger's hold. Your breath comes in choppy pants your panic threatens to swallow you hole and you kick your legs out uselessly.

In a short moment of clarity, you lift your legs and drop your entire weight down, hoping to dislodge the tight grip the stranger has on you, but he doesn't budge. Not as much as a grunt comes from him as you let your limp body hang from his arms.

He lets out a chuckle, dark and condescending, and squeezes your middle until you wheeze.

“You gotta try a little harder than that if you want to break my hold. Not that you could, but I suppose it is a valiant effort,” he says, a mocking tone to his voice. His hold loosens around you and you suck in a deep breath now that you ribs are no longer constricted by his iron grip.

“It's not a fair fight, you see,” he continues, shifting his grip from your middle to swiftly gather your wrists in one big hand, bending your arms and holding them still against your chest. “I could hold you down with two of my fingers and you wouldn't be able to get away.”

He twists your around, his hand still holding yours captive against your chest, but his other leaves your mouth in favour of framing your vulnerable neck.

You owlishly blink up at him, your muscles trembling with the adrenaline cursing through them, tears gathering along the rim of your eyes. Your jaw is clenched shut, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Such a scared little bunny,” the man coos, his thumb stroking along the soft skin of your throat. “This isn't quite how I imagined this to go, but we'll make the best of it, hm?”

“What do you want from me?” you burst out, your jaw unclenching long enough to let the question snap out. You tug at your hands and try to take a step back, but the hand at your throat tightens to keep you in place and you sputter, quick to stop your movement.

“It's not about what I want from you, but what I can give you, bunny girl,” he says, shifting his stance slightly. The flames of a few candles close to you light up his face for the first time since he stepped foot inside this room and you see the sick smile stretching his lips behind the thick beard covering the lower half of his face.

Your eyes jump over his features, taking in the beard, the shape of his jaw, his nose and his eyes... His eyes, dark with wide-blown pupils that only leave a sliver of his irises visible. You can't make out their colour in the dim light, but you still recognise him.

A whole new kind of terror sweeps through you and you unwittingly start to pull at your wrists, fighting to escape his grip, his surprisingly strong grip. Not so surprising anymore now.

“Oh, the penny has dropped,” the man snickers, flicking his head to the side briefly to shake a strand of his grown out hair away from his eyes. It used to be short. And his face was always shaven clean.

“You see, being on the run is quite the tiresome task, sweetheart. Moving from one location to the other, avoiding the authorities, hiding in the shadows. It gets lonely, you know.”

He yanks on your arms and tightens his grip on your throat. He walks you towards the bed, pushing until you sink down on it, legs dangling over the side.

“I've been hiding out here for a while now. Months, to be more specific. It's bleak, boring. But I found something to entertain me. A little bunny that hops by my window every day and sits pretty just for my eyes to see.”

He's been watching you. America's hero, fallen from grace and now off the deep end too, has been stalking you, eyes following you when you sat unsuspectingly, visiting your passed parents, seeking out their lost affection, their comforting presence.

You feel sick, the terror knotting in your stomach as you struggle to breathe through the tight grip Steve Rogers has on your throat.

It really isn't a fair faight. He could snap your neck without blinking and you can't even get him to let go of your hands. Hands that he is holding with only one of his.

“You're lonely, too. So alone, no family left now that mommy and daddy are gone. But you're a good daughter, still. Visiting them, taking care of their grave. So good with your hands, sweetheart. The grave looks beautiful with those plants you picked out,” the Soldier croons, looking down at you with an adoring expression that makes you heart drop somewhere in the vicinity of your knees. He really is mad.

“Don't- Don't talk about my parents you freak,” you manage to squeak, a wheezing sound what with your limited ability to breathe.

“Mind your manners, bunny. I don't appreciate being cursed at. I made all this for you, as a surprise. To make our first time special,” Steve grits out, giving you a shove that sends you bouncing against the mattress.

His hands are finally off your body and you use the opportunity to crawl away from him, huddling on the other side of the mattress while catching your breath. Your throat throbs from his harsh grip.

Steve walks over to the door and closes it, then he turns around to face the bed.

“You need me, sweetheart. You just don't know it yet. I can give you everything you need, everything you lost. I lost a lot of things too. We can be good for each other,” he explains, his face shockingly genuine.

You can't believe what you're hearing. This man is bonkers. He lost his mind. You don't even know him outside his famous Soldier persona. He's a wanted war criminal. And yet here he stands, claiming to know you, speaking about whatever delusion he's crafted in that sick head of his.

'A wanted war criminal that has set his sights on me. Just my luck.'

“Don't look at me like that. I'm not gonna hurt you,” Steve declares and then strides over towards the bed. As he moves closer, he smoothly strips off the thick sweater he's wearing, then the black tank top underneath.

You just stare, frozen in shock. Your mind is reeling, muscles locked in a cowering position.

His thick, muscular chest comes into view, a layer of dark hair covering the taut muscle. Imaptiently toeing off his boots, Steve leans on the bed. Once they're off, he fully climbs onto the mattress, the soft material dipping beneath his weight and jostling you from your stupor.

“No!” you shout and launch off the bed, but not fast enough. A strong hand latches around your ankle, dragging your upper body back up on the back and towards him.

“No, no, no! Let me go, HE-”

A harsh slap whips your head to the side. Your ears ring with the force of it, the ceiling swimming before your eyes for a solid thirty seconds before you can focus enough to work through what just happened.

Steve is straddling your thighs, his teeth bared when he reaches the collar of your puffer jacket and rents the fabric down the middle, busting the zipper and tearing the dark material.

You cry out again. The side of your face throbs and Steve's rough handling hurts your arms, but you can't do much to deter him as he rips the jacket down your arms and then pulls it out from under you to discard it on the floor. Your pullover suffers the same fate, your bra swiftly following suit.

You start to cry, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you. Shaky arms try to cover your exposed chest, but the blonde man above you growls, slapping the weak limbs to the side and reaching out to cup the soft flesh in his calloused hands.

“So pretty, bunny,” he groans, kneading your chest and stroking your nipples. The sensitive peaks pebble in the cold air and from his incessant ministrations.

“Stop, stop, please,” you exclaim tearily, hands hitting at his arms and shoulders, your legs kicking aimlessly behind him.

“You'll be crying for me to touch you soon enough,” Steve says gruffly and rises from his perch on your thighs to flip you onto your stomach. He turns around, settling his weight on your lower back until you squeal in pain.

His hands reach for your jeans and he begins to roughly pull them down, taking your panties with them as he shoves them over the curve of your ass, the fabric scratching you roughly in the process. He wrestles your shoes off and in a matter of seconds you're left completely bare beneath his strong body.

Steve's hands crawl across the backs of your thighs, easily dodging you swinging calves, and then moves up to slap your ass, a delighted grunt coming from him when he watches your flesh jiggle.

“What a nice piece of ass. Love me a girl with some extra on her,” he says, greedily squeezing you bum and thighs.

You grimace at his words, a sob lodging in your throat. Your tears overflow as you're groped and prodded like a piece of meat.

“Please, please, let me go,” you quaver, but your pleas fall on deaf ears. Steve is intent on getting from you what he wants and there's no stopping him.

You let out a weak shout when he finally lifts himself off you back and turns you back around to face him. He's swift to push you further onto the bed and away from the edge of the mattress.

Your limbs start to flail, but he wrestles his way between your legs before you have a real chance to get away.

“Not going anywhere, sweet girl. You're mine,” the former hero rasps. He rests a hand next to your head, partially leaning his weight on you as his other reaches down to pull off his own pants and underwear. He kicks both off the bed, all the while pinning you down with just his torso.

You can feel the hot length of him touching your chilled skin. Every inch of his bare body touching yours sends a wretched shiver through you. You want to throw up, scream, cry. And most of all do you want him off of you. You don't want any part of him touching you, you don't want him looking at you, breathing in your face and cooing false promises. You want none of it.

In a last valaint effort you gather all your strength and start to thrash underneath him. You pull your legs up to your chest and kick out, hitting him on the shoulder before he can duck out of the way.

He raises one arm to shield his face and you take the opening, rolling to the side where his arm is no longer caging you in.

A feral growl rips through the burly man's chest as you slip off the bed. He lifts himself to his knees and lauches forward, just catching you elbow in his grip and yanking harshly.

You exclaim and stumble backwards, thrown off-kilter by the sudden pull. Steve doesn't hesitate to use your unsteady stance and brings you back towards the bed, his long arms wrapping securely around your body and dragging you onto the mattress.

“You'll learn to love it, you'll see. This is what you need!” the blond man barks, frustration bleeding into his features at your ongoing struggle.

Discarding any caution or gentleness, Steve wrestles you onto your side and spoons you from behind. His hard body molds against you back, one of his strong legs shoving between yours. He claps one hand over your mouth, muffling your protests. His other arm wraps around your middle, leaving you completely immobilised.

The only sounds audible in the candle-lit room are your heavy breaths and muffled whimpers. Tears still leak out of your eyes, drawing wet paths over your hot face.

“Hush, bunny. You'll enjoy this just as much as I will,” Steve promises gravelly. The arm around your middle shifts, calloused fingers finding your breasts. He pinches and strokes, giving the flesh the occasional squeeze as he explores you to his hearts content.

“You're perfect,” he grumbles, his lips seeking out your bared throat and pressing a chain of wet, prickly kisses to the sensitive skin.

You can do nothing but endure his touch, muscles still trembling but not fighting. You know it's no use. He's too strong, too big and fast. You'll never get away. If you let him, maybe he won't hurt you.

A tingle stirs deep in your belly when Steve gropes down your body, appreciatively squeezing every soft roll and dip along your side before slipping close to your core.

You tense, a loud whimper vibrating against the palm across you mouth. Steve just shushes you and shifts the leg he has lodged between yours, lifting it to open you up to him. Your soft thigh tenses against his firm, sinewy one, trying to force it back down to hide your most intimate parts from him, but it is no use. He's stronger than you.

“No hiding, bunny,” the Soldier grumbles, nipping your throat and making you squeak at the pain.

His hand reaches the curls on your mound, fingers continuing to dip lower until he reaches the petals of your sex. His middle finger seeks out your bundle of nerves with expert precision, lightly pressing on it and chuckling when you twitch against him.

He toys with the botton for a few moments before sliding lower, using his fingers to part your sticky lips and circle your entrance.

You're ashamed at the wetness gathered between your legs. It's not much, but it's there and you cringe at the feeling of the man's fingers dipping into it teasingly. A sad croak fights its way past your lips and Steve pats your pussy playfully, telling you not to be embarassed. It only heightens your shame.

“Your body knows what it needs, sweetheart. Getting slick for me, what a sweet pussy,” he sighs, the earlier tension gone from his voice.

You groan when Steve plunges a finger past your entrance without a warning, wriggling the thick digit around and pulling it out just to add a second one. He fucks you with his fingers, his thumb teasing your clit as he draws out your unwanted pleasure.

The tingle in your belly sparks into a flame and you helplessly wriggle in Steve's arms as the pleasure forced upon you mounts with every stroke of his fingers against you walls.

Small, unwanted sounds spill from you, little pants and whines sounding past the barrier of Steve's hand.

When the man crooks his fingers, shifting your legs further apart before plunging the digits back into your increasingly wet cunt, your back arches with a  squeal. Steve laughs gravelly and does it again, keeping up the motion of his hand.

You moan, tears squeezing past your tightly shut eyes as the wicked man massages your g-spot with unrelenting fingers. The action has you senseless. No one but you has ever managed to find this little place, much less work it with such precision.

Your body tenses, legs thrashing and arms aimlessly waving around while the pleasure mounts dangerously fast, winding your muscles tighter and tighter until you're ready to snap.

Steve rescinds the hand from your mouth, damp palm touching your hand when he gathers the flapping limb in his and intertwines your fingers in a sick gesture of intimacy. But the mounting pleasure inside you has you too distracted to fight it, so you let him hold your hand, your other one clinging to the duvet that is crumpled beneath your bodies.

“Come on, cum for me. I know you want to, your little pussy is squeezing my fingers,” Steve husks, chuckling at your senseless whines and gasps.

His thumb presses against your throbbing clit and with a few more strokes of his fingers, you fall apart.

“Yes! That's it, good girl, keep going,” Steve praises throatily, his hips bucking slightly against you lower back as you tremble in his arms, overcome by the most intense orgasm of your life.

It washes over you in waves and you're left boneless by the time the last of them passes over you. Your chest heaves, sweat dotting your brow.

Your mind is still reeling from the sensations you just experienced at the hands of this madman and you can do nothing but lie there limply when Steve shuffles away from you. You flop onto your back, your trembling thighs pressing together.

They don't stay like that for long, the blond's big hands prying them apart effortlessly. Not that you put up much of a fight.

He kneels between your legs and his hand reaches down to stroke his flushed and angry looking length, a few drops of precum bubbling from the tip.

He groans needily and adjusts his position, lining himself up to your glistening, puffy pussy.

You mewl pathetically, legs kicking weakly at either side of his hips when you feel the head of his cock nudging your folds apart.

“No...” you beg quietly, hands coming up to push at him. Steve wordlessly gathers your wrists in one hand and holds them against his chest. Your palm rests flat against his firm muscle and he leans over you just a bit, his free hand grabbing your thigh just above your knee and opening you up to his view.

He looks at your face when he tilts his hips and slides inside just a bit, marvelling at the scrunched up expression you wear.

He's big and the stretch burns despite his slow pace.

You whine low in your throat, the fingers resting against Steve's chest pushing at him, nails digging into his skin. He hisses at the sting but keeps pressing on.

“It hurts, please. You won't fit,” you cry out at last, hips twisting from side to side to dislodge him. Steve only tsks at your squirming and pulls back a little just to press forward again, inserting another inch into your spasming pussy.

“I'll fit, bunny. Don't you worry,” he grunts, letting go of your thigh to wipe away the tears rolling down your temples.

You grimace when he slides in even deeper, carving out a space for himself in your body, molding you to his shape. When Steve turns his hand to cup your face, you find yourself leaning into it, seeking comfort from the pain, the fear. Too bad that he's the source of it.

With a last jerk of his hips, Steve's entire length disappears into your straining pussy and you exclaim when you feel his hips resting against yours. He lets go of your hands and moves to grab both your legs, pressing them apart and up.

You feel horribly exposed to his hungry gaze, cringing at the way he stares between your legs when he pulls back and pushes back into you.

Every move of his hips forces a strangled sound from you, your chest bouncing with his still rather tame thrusts. He's savouring it, every push and pull through your quivering flesh.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Steve grunts, his groans and pants mingling with your squeaks and wheezes. His face is flushed, plump bottom lip caught between his white teeth.

He lets go of your legs after a few minutes of measured thrusting, dropping his upper body over yours. His cock slides out of you when he shifts and you whimper, your thighs immediately moving to close. But Steve's thick waist is in the way, so you endure the throbbing that pulses between your legs.

Steve settles above you, his hips cradled between your legs, strong arms to either side of your head. He briefly shifts his weight to reach down and line himself up again before pushing back inside with a throaty groan.

“Yes... what a good bunny you are, taking me so well,” he moans, his hot breath washing over your face. His hips move, finding a new rhythm and a new angle, one that has you seeing starts.

“Oh, oh... hngh,” you squeal out, hands reaching up to clutch at Steve's shoulders. “Fuck, oh.”

The man above you grunts his approval, keeping up his motion to hit your spot again and again, the tip of his erection sliding across with with every retreat and advance.

“There you go, doesn't that feel good? I told you I would make you feel good,” he growls, speeding up his thrusts and giving you no respite.

You babble, hands slipping along the Soldier's arms, unable to hold on to anything for long while he fucks you senseless with his sharp, angled thrusts. The fire in your belly ignites again, burning brighter with every stroke.

“Mh, fuck you're gonna make me cum,” Steve pants. His face is scrunched up, mouth hanging open as he revels in the feel of your wet, hot pussy clenching around him.

He leans to the side and reaches down, pressing his fingers along your slipper cunt, seeking out your clit and rubbing it earnestly.

You keen, back arching off the bed. It doesn't take more than a few rubs to make you come, your clit pulsing under his fingerpads as he keeps hammering away at your g-spot.

You let out a loud, gravelly moan, the sound quickly breaking off into a high-pitched whine when your pleasure peaks, a pressure unlike any you've felt before building in your belly and releasing with one last well-placed thrust.

You squirt all over Steve's cock, his pelvis and yours drenched in your cum as you shake pathetically underneath him, you hands slapping the mattress.

“Good fucking girl,” Steve growls, his eyes rolling back in his head when he feels you squirt over him, your walls bearing down on him as you tremble through your orgasm. “Fuck, you're perfect.”

He rescinds his hand from your overstimulated clit and drops down to his underarms above you, his hips bucking desperately against you.

You vaguely feel Steve's cock throb and twitch inside, followed by a primal groan above you.

The big man shakes with the force of his orgasm, unfiltered sounds rumbling from him as he paints your insides with his seed, pulse after pulse of it surging into you.

You moan weakly at the warm sensation of his spend, too tired and fucked out to listen to the alarm bells going off in the back your head at his actions.

Once Steve stops shaking, he lifts his sweaty face and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You may have lost your family, but we can make a new one together. You will never be alone again, sweetheart. Neither of us will be.”

Your eyes snap open, your sluggish thoughts clearing in seconds as you stare up at the former hero, pinned beneath his thick body after he took you against your will and came inside you without any form of protection.

“You'll make a good mother.”

His eyes meet your wide ones, a wicked smirk curling his mouth.

“No,” you breathe out, hands lifting and pushing at his chest, body squirming desperately to dislodge his cock still nestled inside you.

“Yes,” Steve hisses, snapping his hips against yours and wriggling them from left to right, letting you feel every inch of his rapidly hardening length. He does it again, cutting off the sob rattling in your chest and replacing it with a choked moan.

His hands wipe at your tears and he coos at you, shushing your sad, terrified sobs as he keeps working his hips against yours.

“You'll love it, trust me. I will take such good care of you.”

...

Ooooop, that was quite the wild ride 😆 I wrote this monster in one sitting and I did not proofread a single sentence. I cannot bring myself to care. Y’all are supposed to enjoy the story, not my immaculate spelling, lol 😳 (it’s not immaculate, it really isnt. And don’t get me started on punctuation...)

Anyhow, let me know what you think! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! 🖤

#Chris Evans #Steve Rogers #nomad!steve #soft!dark Steve #steve rogers x reader #writing challenge #theimaginesyouneveraskedfor #one-shot

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me Masterlist

When you need something to help you stay alert study, you found a whole lot more than you were looking for. Tatted and massive. He was what your dreams were made of, but is he a nightmare? He claimed you, and now he intends on keeping you. No matter what the cost.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

A/N: this story is going to have themes of drug dealing and taking drugs, there will be manipulation, stalking, degradation, and so much more. This is a dark Steve that wants possession of reader. Read ALL warnings before each chapter. You are responsible for the content you consume. Minors DNI

#your mark on me #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #tatooed!steve rogers #tattoos!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #soft!dark!steve rogers #steve rogers smut #druglord au

[biteofcherry]

Does mafia Steve from Nesting like his wife's pregnant belly?

Like? Steve loves it! He's obsessed with it. He puts his hand on her belly whenever he can 😊

Nesting

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings for the part below: pregnancy; breeding kink; pregnant belly appreciation; fluff; a bit of smut; soft!dark Steve Rogers; mafia!Steve Rogers;

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Magnifica." Steve murmurs in awe, his warm breath brushing your cheek as he leans his chin on your shoulder to watch his hand roam over your pregnant belly.

You're sprawled in bed, Steve leaning against the headboard and you sitting between his legs, your back resting against his chest. You've been watching a baking show on the ridiculously huge tv screen while Steve fed you bites of fruit and some chocolates.

That's until his focus switched to your belly.

He traces both hands over the flimsy fabric of the pink babydoll you're wearing, resting his palms over the swell of you, chasing little flutters beneath your skin.

He doesn't do it only in bed, though it's mostly where he gets enough time to fully immerse in his fascination with your pregnant body. But Steve touches you whenever he can - keeping an arm around you and a hand spread possessively over your big belly when you're out; lifting your shirt up and peppering your belly with kisses when you're lounging at home. Any given opportunity, really.

Occasionally his focus would switch to your tits, which filled out more and become the core of your latest torment - they're ridiculously sensitive, getting you shaking in arousal with a mere touch.

"You should always look like that." Steve states, his big palm spread over the center of your belly.

"Like a huge whale?" You snort, trying to focus on the cakes that are being currently made on the tv and not on the way Steve's touch makes your sensitive skin tingle.

"Whales can't compare." Steve chuckles, sliding one of his hands a little upwards. "They're not as hot and glowing as you."

He cups your breast - your nipple instantly stiffening under his touch - and you let out a tiny gasp.

"It's only sweat and anti-stretch marks oil." You huff; lately you were becoming more self-conscious and self-depreciating.

"The oil maybe makes your skin softer," Steve pulls down the strap of your nightie and squeezes your exposed breast. Jolt of arousal zaps straight to your clit. "But it's the pregnancy that makes you so sensitive and extra responsive."

"It's my seed growing in your belly that causes it." His voice drops into that low, deep timbre which makes your pussy pulse in anticipation.

Steve starts pulling the fabric of your babydoll upwards, his hand quickly sneaks beneath it to relish in the skin-on-skin contact.

"You are amazing." Steve turns his head to kiss your cheek. "Your body is amazing. It's creating life."

He starts mouthing kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"And it takes me so well..." he growls, scraping his teeth over your shoulder.

Suddenly, in a swift yet gentle move, Steve pushes you forward.

He has you on your hands and knees before you manage to utter a single syllable of protest.

Steve nudges your thighs wider apart. You comply instantly, your body already buzzing with need. You kind of hate how quickly you rouse nowadays. Not like Steve had much trouble making you drip in rapid time without your pregnancy hormones raging.

"Already so wet for me." Steve hums, pleased, as his fingers slide between your folds.

"Or maybe, my little wife..." he guides the leaking tip of his cock to your entrance - "You're always ready for me?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. He clasps one hand on your shoulder to keep you in place and rests the other hand on your belly as he pushes into your cunt in one, firm stroke.

"Gonna keep you like this for a long time, little bird." He groans in delight as your walls flutter around him. "For as long as your body can take it."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #mafia!steve rogers #mob boss!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers x reader #soft!dark steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #nesting #my writing

[timidpumpkin]

Can you do a stucky little reader? She wakes up sick ( flu symptoms) and they take care of her. Angst and fluff with cute nicknames. 🥺🥺❤️❤️

You had me at angst…and fluff…and cute nicknames…okay you had me at the whole thing🙈🙈💞💞heheh i hope you like it!! I set it in little light universe🫶🫶❤️💙❤️💙

(pictures are not my own)

More Than Anything (Stucky x reader)

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Warnings/tags: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Female reader, Implied forced age regression, Sick reader, Meanie bucky, Implied reader has small hands in comparison because Stucky is gigantic (fact), Angst, Fluff, Comfort. Reader baby-talks as well, Lots o' cute nicknames.

Word count: 4.2k

It hurts.

“Mornin’ Doll,” Bucky says after flipping your lights on. The illumination now burning your vision makes you pull the covers over your head as you flip over, hiding from the bright room. You hear him making his way to your bedside. The mattress beneath dips you sideways a bit as he sits beside your dormant form. 

“Come on now, time to get up.” he pulls lightly at the duvet covering you. He can tell you’re gripping it with all you can. Though he could easily unveil you, he decides against it, knowing that ripping the blanket from your delicately curled-up fingers might hurt them. Instead, he leans his body over yours, one hand placed on the other side of your hip as he hovers above you. He dips his head close to where yours is concealed by the warm blanket. “Don’t make me carry you down there,” he whispers teasingly, figuring it’s likely what you’re hoping for. 

Instead, you only groan in response, mumbling something about getting a little more sleep. It wasn’t an uncommon request from you, and Bucky knew how much babies needed their sleep. Usually, he would let it slide, loving how adorable you look in dreamland, but he can’t. Not this time. 

It was almost noon. He peers around your room. It’s not the cleanest, but it looks pristine compared to the current state of your playroom. He had asked you yesterday to clean it, noticing the myriad of toys and their respective accessories scattered across the carpeted floor.

You, preoccupied with dressing your doll so she could ‘go on vacation,’ promised him you’d do it after dinner. Bucky apprehensively agreed, and even let you fall through on your assigned chore after you quickly fell asleep on the couch, much before your usual bedtime. Figuring you played your little heart out, he carried you upstairs and told himself to remind you in the morning.

Having already slept almost twelve hours, he knows if he lets your slumber last any longer, you’ll never sleep tonight. He sighs.

“I know you want more babygirl, but Dada already made breakfast and lunch. You need to come eat,” he waits a few moments for you to respond, but you don’t let out a sound or groan. “I'm serious, Doll, time to get up,” he states, standing up, hoping it’ll prompt you to follow. You peel your sheets back to look at him.

“Daddy…” you whine, unsure of what you're asking for. All you knew is that it hurt. Everything. It wasn’t just that the lights were too bright. It wasn't just that you were sleepy. Your whole body felt…bad. Just bad. You couldn’t exactly explain it, but you did know that moving didn’t seem like it would help. 

Bucky only looks at you, unsatisfied. You try sitting up, which you find is more difficult than it should have been. Once you’re upright, you feel pressure in your head. Your cheeks and forehead feel as if there's unwanted gunk smooshed inside. It makes you want to lie back down immediately. 

“m’ tired daddy,” you say groggily. 

“That’s ‘cause you slept so much,” Bucky knew messing with your established sleep pattern too much would likely make you feel more cranky than it seemed you already were. So, as much as he knew you didn’t want to, he believed it would be for the best to make you get up.

As you start to get out of bed, it feels as though the air is made of thick jello with every movement you make.

“Daddyyy…ughhhh” you groan unhappily at him, and kick at your sheets frustrated that you’re being forced to move.

Bucky’s eyes narrow at your agitated action, never liking that kind of behavior from you.

“Don’t be that way, Doll. it’s too early for that,” he warns.

“Mmm,” you groan again. “noo, don’t wanna, wanna sleep!” you say crankily, flopping back down on the bed again with your arms crossed to prove your point. That point being: you. did. not. want. to. move.

Bucky rolls his eyes, and takes a deep breath, debating internally on how to approach your grouchiness. He decides, only since it’s so early—for you—that he’ll go easy on you, hoping this attitude will fade as you wake up. 

“No more sleep, but,” he leans down closer to you, “if you promise to be a good girl all day, Daddy will carry you down there.” he offers as a compromise.

Truthfully, you’d still rather lay in bed, but you knew you had to do what Daddy asked. More so, you didn’t want him to be upset with you, so you nod your head in agreement. 

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Okay daddy, what?” he questions.

“I-i’ll be good,” you say, having a hard time remembering what he asked. He slides his hands under you and begins to pick you up. Once you’re in his hold, you quickly let your head fall to his shoulder, wishing you could now sleep there instead.

“And you’ll eat your breakfast this morning?” he asks into your heavy head. You nod into his neck and mumble a ‘yes daddy’ assentingly.

Once he places you in your chair downstairs, Steve greets you with a bright smile, and a kiss to your forehead after setting down your food. When he does, he notices how hot your skin feels against his.

“You feel warm angel, you feel okay, babygirl?” he asks, gently checking the temperature of your cheeks with the back of his hand.  

“Oh, she just got up, she’s probably still warm from sleep,” Bucky answers before you get the chance to speak. “Somebody really didn’t want to get up this morning,” he pokes. 

“Ohh,” Steve coos, “you still sleepy, babygirl?” he asks. You shake your head weakly, eyes drifting closed. You think about telling him how bad you feel, but you don’t really have the energy to try to explain it.

Instead, you decide to focus on eating, hoping the sooner you finish, the quicker you can return to resting. However, the very first swallow of your otherwise pleasant meal scratches at your throat. You still try to get some down, thinking the pain will go away if you keep trying. When it becomes evident that won't be the case, you poke at your plate and begin to speak up.

“Daddy, m’done,” you push your plate away, “my thro-” 

“Uh-uh, a few more bites,” Bucky pushes the plate back in front of you, knowing you’ll never feel more awake with an empty stomach. “And after you finish, you can go clean your playroom,” You look at him puzzled.

“But-”

“No buts. I already asked you to do it yesterday,” he explains, not looking up from whatever he happened to be reading at the table with you. Your face twists in confusion for a few moments before you remember how tired you felt last night. Truthfully, the fatigue was all your body could focus on, making you completely forget about the room.

“But daddy-”

“What did I just say?” he looks up at you.

“I’m tired!” you snap at him, voice raised high and whiney as you bemoan at him. You cross your arms and huff grumpily back into the chair.

“I don’t care if you’re tired. Do what Daddy says, or you can say goodbye to your playroom for the next week” he threatens. Not wanting to get out of bed was one thing, but directly disobeying him with that attitude was another. 

Still, you only groan angrily in response, not feeling like you could do anything right now. 

“Ugh!” you flop your head down on the table dramatically, hiding between your arms. Bucky lets your stew there for a moment before speaking up.

“Are you gonna finish eating or not?” He asks eventually, eerily calm. You remain silent, unsure of what to say. “Fine, you can go clean your room now,” You look up to him at that, suddenly confused and disoriented. Surely your daddy should know how bad you feel. 

“But Daddy! I don't wanna now! I don't feel g-”

“Did I ask if you wanted to? I don’t care if you don't feel like it. Now. Or no playroom for a month.” your jaw drops, your muddled brain beyond baffled on why he’s being so harsh. Still, you know he means it. It wasn’t outside his usual punishment by any means. You almost think you should consider yourself lucky he hasn’t bent you over his knee already with how you’re fighting him.

Feeling defeated, you drag your body out of your chair. Before you can go, he grabs your arm with a warning.

“and quit with the attitude.” 

“Yes, Daddy” you squeak lamentably, noticing how your throat hurts as you speak.

You drag your feet upstairs, physically resisting your legs from stomping as you go. Anger and confusion mix together in you as you think about what he said. You didn’t want to be grounded from your playroom. So many of your favorite things were in there. And, again, more importantly, you didn't want to make daddy upset with you. You never liked it when he was. You always tried so hard to be a good girl for them. But right now, it was so hard. In actuality, what you wanted more than anything was for him to cuddle with you. You felt Daddy and Dada could always make you feel better. No matter what, you were convinced your Daddies loving embrace could cure you from any ailment. 

Maybe, you think, if you just cleaned your room like a good girl, you could ask to cuddle with him after. 

You try your hardest to ignore the pain that ignites at every move you make, but truthfully, you're already abnormally out of breath just from your quick walk up the stairs. The room feels uncomfortably chilly against your skin. 

After you get a small portion of the floor cleared, you decide to take a little break. You practically collapse beneath yourself, curling underneath the cozy play tent filled with askew fluffy pillows and dismayed blankets. You shut your eyes and tell yourself you’ll only rest for a few minutes…

“Angel?” Steve's voice echoes back at him from the loft balcony where you should easily be able to pick up his voice. He can’t hear you moving around. “Are you sure she’s in there?” he asks Bucky.

“She better. It’s where I told her to be.” he retorts disdainfully, hoping you're not again disobeying him by being somewhere else. 

Steve stills himself, and listens closely, he can tell you’re there, but your breathing doesn’t sound normal. 

Concerned, he makes his way upstairs. Bucky follows, recognizing Steve’s ‘something’s wrong’ face. 

Steve panics for a brief moment when he enters the empty but disarrayed room. Then he spots you. Your delicate form hidden amongst haphazardly arranged fabrics. He approaches you slowly, not wanting to startle you. 

He kneels down, overshadowing you as he gently caresses your cheek to wake you. 

“Babygirl?” he calls softly. Puffs of hot air escape your mouth. Labored breathing is all he can hear. All they can both hear. 

“Babygirl,” he calls again, shaking you slightly. To his relief, your eyes slowly open. They look sunken, tired, and devoid of their usual playful sparkle. 

“Dada…?” you question quietly. “m’cold” your murmur softly, eyes begging to be closed again. 

You’re not cold though. Not to Steve. You feel a million degrees too hot under his touch. 

“Babygirl…” he says for the third time, this time preparing to move you. “Dada’s gonna pick you up okay?” he explains, remaining calm so as to not worry you. “We're gonna go downstairs,” you feel limp in his arms, no different than if you were deep in sleep. But you are certainly awake, even if barely. He mumbles something to Bucky you don't make out, but his tone alone tells you he’s not happy.

Once you’re downstairs, he sets you on the kitchen counter. You don’t let go of him though, your body weight is leaned almost fully onto his.

“Can you sit up for me, babygirl?” he asks encouragingly, but gently. “Daddy and I are gonna check you out okay?” you groan a bit, still just feeling tired. 

“Here,” Bucky speaks up softly, snaking his arms around you, and taking Steve’s place in front of you. As you’re shifted from one body’s hold to another, it wakens you a bit. You almost go back to leaning fully onto his chest when you realize who’s holding you.

“Daddy?” you shift back a little to look up at him. One hand of his is resting at your hip, the other helping support the rest of your body.

“Hey, babydoll…” he says softly, voice drifting, and stomach sinking as he sees how sick you look.

He almost wishes he could somehow shut his hearing out. Your heartbeat is quicker than usual. He knew it better than his own. How it sounded while you slept, when you’d play, how it picks up when you laugh, giggling for breath and telling him ‘daddy, stop it tickles’ with the brightest grin lighting up your face. Now…now he can’t stand it. It’s thumping too fast. Faster than it should be for when his little girl hasn’t moved an inch herself. 

Why didn’t he notice it before? He thinks back to how heavily you held onto him when he carried you this morning. How quickly he was to interrupt you. He realizes you probably tried to tell him. And he didn’t listen. Even worse, he made you clean. Guilt seeps deep into his guts as he remembers how funny your voice sounded today. 

“Daddy,” you break him from his thoughts, he sees tears beginning to form in your doleful eyes. “Daddy m’sorry,” you breathe in sharply, beginning to cry “m’sorry didn't f-finish-i just-i gots so tireds daddy I’m-I'm sorry,” you sob pathetically, knowing you’ve disappointed him. 

Bucky’s face falls. 

All you had to do was one simple thing, and you couldn't even do that right. You weren’t being a good girl by disobeying him like that. Even if you felt bad, you feel you should have tried harder.

“Doll, no-” you cry sorries to him more, your own hands reaching to cover your shameful face. He catches them before you do, gently taking them into his and guiding them around his neck for you so you can be more level with his gaze. “Babydoll, look at daddy,” He pulls you, hands drawing you closer so he’s flush with you in between your legs. Needing to feel your skin, his right hand tenderly guides your face to look at him. “I’m not upset with you. Daddy’s not upset with you,” he reassures, silently pleading for you not to cry. 

“But-but-I didn’t cleans-I-I just-I-I not good girl,” you sob miserably at the admission, never wanting to be bad for him.

“My little girl, my sweet girl, no, please no” he assures, hating how skewed shut your eyes are. “That’s not true, Doll, it’s just not. Daddy…” he carefully wipes at the wet tears on your cheek, “Daddy should have known.” he admits shamefully. You finally blink your eyes open at him, a timidly unsure expression written on your face. “I should have known. You...you tried to tell daddy huh?” he takes one of your hands and gives it soft kisses. 

“N-n’your not mad at me?” you sniffle as your cries begin to slow down.

“No, Doll, never.” he couldn’t be, never for something like this. His mouth opens again, he wants to tell you how sorry he is. He’s the one who should be, but he only finds his own tongue twisted, unsure of how to fully express his remorse. Before he has time to puzzle the words together, Steve interrupts, thermometer in hand.

“Open wide, babygirl,” you do as he says. “tongue up,” he mimics the motion for you. The cold metal feels uncomfortable in your mouth. They must know this as Bucky squeezes your hand soothingly, and Steve tells you ‘just a little longer’ with a sympathetic gaze as he holds your jaw with the hand that’s not keeping the thermometer in place. 

When it beeps, Steve removes it and frowns when he reads the displayed numbers. 

“Can you tell us what hurts, princess?” Steve asks. You point your hand towards your neck. “Your throat?” he confirms, and you nod your head. “What else babygirl?” you then squeeze your eyes together, remembering how squished your brain feels.

“Head,” you mumble quietly, before crossing and rubbing your arms together in discomfort. “Everything.”

“Your body hurts? Feels sore?” He asks. You nod your head weakly at him, closing your eyes and wishing you could be laying down right now. Even just sitting somewhat upright felt hard at the moment. 

“Okay babygirl, why don’t you let Daddy take you to the bedroom,” Steve suggests. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” he smiles at you comfortingly, before placing a kiss on your forehead with his hand cradling the back of your head. 

“m’I sick?” you ask Bucky as he carries you to their room.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, Dada and I will help you feel better,” he carefully sets you on their large bed. 

It's soft. Yours is soft too, but Daddies always felt so much softer for some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to sleep next to your favorite people. He arranges the pillows and blankets around you to make you more comfortable, then slides next to you. You rest your head on his chest, almost instantly falling asleep again. 

Some time passes, particularly how much time is beyond you. All you knew in this moment, is how comfy Daddy felt.

After some time, Steve’s voice brings you back to reality. He instructs you to sit more upright so he can give you medicine. 

The odd color liquid he brings toward you makes you cringe. You can tell just from looks how bitter and unpleasant it will taste. You recoil into bucky, small hands gripping at the buttons of his shirt as you whine.

“Daddyyy…” you tug on Bucky's shirt more, trying to force your head into his flannel to hide from Steve and his icky medicine, practically begging Bucky to not make Steve give it to you.

“Doll,” Bucky chuckles a bit at your attempt to hide inside his outer shirt. He still holds you close, hands supporting you on your bottom as you have now completely crawled on top of him.

“Angel…you know I can still see you…right?” Steve teases.

“No you can’ts…m’not here” you proclaim, muffled into Bucky’s chest.

“The sooner you take it, the sooner it will be over, come on princess.” Steve encourages. You’re still not convinced and instead mumble out one word: ‘pill.’

For a second, Steve isn’t sure if he understood you correctly before his lips tighten with a displeased look on his face. 

You’ve had this conversation before. He thought surely by now you understood it, but he figured since you’re sick, it might be hard for your little head to remember. 

“Sweet girl, babies can’t take pills, you know that.” Steve explains patiently. You did know that. It was early on when Steve refused to let you take any medication you needed through a pill. It didn't matter what you needed, he was always able to find a way to get a liquid version of it from Uncle Bruce. Or, as you like to think, a much yuckier version of it. 

Still, you groan in disagreement, not wanting to taste something that bad, let alone when your throat hurt as much as it did. 

“Doll,” Bucky speaks up. “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel so much better.”

You shake your head against his chest, disagreeing with both of your daddies now. 

“it’s yucky dough daddy,” you whine.

“I know it’s yucky, babydoll,” Bucky pats at your back comfortingly while he thinks. He knows how hard this is for you, especially when you feel so bad. “Hey,” he peels you back from him a bit, unburying you from his shirt as he has an idea. “Look,”  he instructs, “Here,” he takes the small cap of medicine from Steve’s hands and–to your horror–throws it back in his mouth. You look at him in horror as the icky liquid disappears from the cap into Bucky's mouth. You stare at him wildly. 

Daddy’s crazy, you think.

“There. See? Daddy took it. It’s not so bad.” Bucky says nonchalantly in an attempt to convenience you. He hands the empty cap back to Steve so he can refill it. Steve shares your look of bewilderment, before you can't help but break out a smile at his action.  

“Daddy,” you giggle at him.

“What?” He fakes surprise. “Daddy took it, so you can too.” he assures happily, taking the now filled-again cap from Steve. Still, you recoil from it a bit. 

“Yeah…” you look between him and the medicine suspiciously. “but daddy also drinks other yucky stuffs,” you defend, referring to the strong-smelling caramel-colored stuff he likes to drink sometimes. Daddy never lets you have that. 

Bucky chuckles a bit when he realizes what you meant. 

“Okay, true…and little baby definitely can’t have that stuff…” he says pointedly. “but this,” he gestures the cap towards you. “you have to take.” You look between him and Steve warily. 

“Please angel, I know you can do it. Do it for Daddy and Dada princess,” Steve encourages. You agree this time, mentally pepping yourself up and telling yourself if daddy could do it, so could you. 

You scrunch your eyes closed as Bucky brings it closer to your lips. You feel Steve’s hands reach down to hold your face. One hand holding your jaw up firmly, with the other around the back of your head. This way, you aren't able to move should you change your mind. Steve knew you���d be a good girl and take it, but he always had to be sure just in case–not unlike what has happened before–you decide to spit it out.

When it hits your tongue, it’s just as yucky as you had imagined. Maybe even worse. Instinctively, your face contorts in displeasure as you squirm around from the gross sensation. 

Steve and Bucky hold you firmly in place the whole time and instruct you to swallow. 

Once you do, Steve asks you to open your mouth for him, just to make sure you really swallowed it all.

“Good girl, my brave little girl. I knew you could do it.” Steve praises you. “Dada’s so proud of you.” he beams at you, making you smile. 

“Daddy proud too?” you ask shyly to Bucky.

“Super proud doll. The proudest of them all.” he winks at you, making you giggle a little bit, but it tickles your throat, causing you to start having a coughing fit. 

Bucky brings a sippy on their nightstand to your lips and lets you drink some cold water. It helps calm your throat. 

Steve asks if there’s anything else you want right now. You ask for some juice in your favorite sippy, and he lets you know he’ll bring it after he’s done making some soup for you.

Bucky gets out of the bed, making you confused. You promptly grab at his hands. 

“Where going?” you look up to him, eyes big and sad. 

“I was just gonna go help Dada, why don’t you get some rest, Doll?” He says, knowing it’s what you need most right now. To his surprise though, you don’t let go.

“Nooo,” you say, tugging feebly at his hands. “Stay…wanna…can…cuddle daddy?” you ask bashfully, suddenly feeling shy. 

Bucky’s eyes turn soft. Soft. Just like his little girl. Soft. Like how your voice always sounded. Soft. Something, an emotion, a feeling, a sensation, that only you made him experience. 

Even after he made you clean your playroom, even after he snapped at you and didn’t listen, you still asked in your softest voice, doleful eyes, and small grabby hands if he would cuddle with you. Sometimes–he’s not sure what he did to deserve you. 

“Of course, princess,” he climbs back into the bed with you and you grin happily as you curl yourself around him just like before. He suggests again that you to get some rest, but that too comes with protest. 

“Wanna watch ‘toons wif Daddy…can we’s?” you ask. Bucky smiles to himself and kisses your head. Even though he knows you’ll likely fall fast asleep no more than five minutes into it, there’s nothing more he’d like more than watch shows with his little girl

He turns on your favorite show and makes sure you’re perfectly comfortable, tucked around him and under blankets. 

“Doll?” he whispers softly after a few minutes. To his surprise, you’re still awake. You mumble a questioning ‘hmm?’ he takes a few seconds to respond, trying to gather the words correctly for you. He breathes in. 

“I’m sorry Daddy didn’t listen earlier,” he admits, lips ghosting the top of your head, before placing a kiss there. “I should have listened.”

“It’s okies Daddy,” you hum sleepily into his chest. It wasn’t okay. He knew that. But you—you and your never-ending soft and kind heart—forgave him. And that’s all that mattered to him. He truly was more than lucky to have a little girl like you.

“I love you Daddy,” you squeeze him softly, voice quiet. And even though he can’t see you, he knows you're smiling when you say it. 

“I love you, Doll.” more than anything.

#thank you for this ask i loved writing this so much!!!! #a million apologies it took me forever to answer 😅😅🥺🥺 #daddy!stucky x little!reader #stucky x little!reader #stucky x reader #dark!stucky x reader #soft!dark!stucky #soft!dark!stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky #stockholm syndrome #dark!stucky x little!reader #daddy!steve #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky barnes #little!reader #stucky fic #Fluff #stucky fluff #stucky angst #daddy!stucky x reader

[wildestdreamsblog]

Santa Tell Me

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You needed protection. Steve was only too un(willing) to take you in his mountain.

Warnings: Swearing, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: One shot that has more that 5k words. One day, I’ll get over Chris Evans. But today isn’t the day. My Christmas gift to you hihi merry christmas lovely humans~

“No.”

A door slammed on Bucky’s face. He had not even said a word and yet, his best friend, Steve Rogers took one look at him and decided that it was best to slam the door in his face.

This punk, he thought.

Bucky took a deep breath before turning to look at the lady hiding behind his back. He offered you an assuring smile, pointing his thumb on the closed door before making a face as though saying that his friend was unnecessarily grumpy.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I think it’s menopause.”

Bucky cleared his throat before knocking once again.

The door opened with excessive force and once again, the brawny man appeared. Now that he didn’t slam the door, you were able to see what he really looked like.

What your supposedly temporary sanctuary looked like.

What he looked like.

When Bucky Barnes showed you what his best friend looked like, you thought that he seemed like an old-fashioned yet friendly man. From what Bucky told you, Steve used to be a captain in the military, until he quitted. The man just one day decided to retire because, and you quoted Bucky, ‘the man was simply fed up with people’s bullshit’.

You thought he looked handsome in his military uniform.

The hulking man in front of Bucky looked like the man in the photograph, yet at the same time so different. The Steve standing tall in front of you had beard on his face. In comparison to the photo, he now sported a longer hair that framed his manly face. You noted that his locks looked darker now. He was even bulkier now, too. The man on the photo looked like a hero. The one in front of you looked like an anti-hero.

“Heeeey,” Bucky grinned at Steve before slapping his arm in a friendly gesture. “I was just talking about you! So this is-“

“We’re the same age,” Steve cut Bucky off, glaring at him with his intense eyes before stepping closer to the equally huge man. You almost wondered how Bucky did not look intimidated at all when you remembered that underneath Bucky’s friendly persona was a man as deadly as him.

Steve never once looked at your direction as if you were inconsequential to him. Well, you thought, of course you were. To him, you were a nuisance. Bucky was not the one assigned to your case, yet you were immensely grateful that he stepped in once he noticed how the other man was bungling your case and almost caused your demise. That was to say it kindly when in truth, you walked out of their office one day after meeting with the other sergeant to go over your case. He assured you that the case was simple and that your life was not in grave danger. One moment you were crossing the road and was about to enter your car, and the next thing you knew a car was driving alarmingly fast to where you were standing. Your fight and flight instinct seemed to fail you as you did nothing but looked at the car with wide eyes and stuck limbs.

You should have been dead.

You would have been dead if it weren’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes and impeccable speed. And well, his metal arm. You felt a powerful arm tugged you behind a car, shielding you with his body and metal arm as the assailant pointed a gun at you and began shooting. The loud bangs from the weapons felt like it went on forever. Bucky had his other arm wrapped around you and he felt your uncontrollable trembles. He looked down and noticed how pale you were.

And he hated it.

He loathed seeing someone took advantage of helpless people.

Perhaps, that was what made him snapped. With practiced precision, Bucky pointed his gun and with a singular shot, he managed to hit one of the wheels. The car crashed to the post with deafening sound of collision. A moment passed before the forces were able to cautiously walked to the car, their guns pointed at the injured assaulters.

Bucky thought they were all useless.

After he made sure that you were indeed unharmed, Bucky gently dragged you back to the headquarters and berated the sergeant in charged of your case. He called the man, and you quoted: ‘a simpering buffoon’, ‘an intolerable fuck waffle’, ‘a spam email’, and lastly, he likened the sergeant to a wet sock. By the time he was done verbally kicking the man, the sergeant looked like he was one insult away from crying. Bucky thought that he deserved it. One mistake could cost someone’s life, and it almost costed yours.

Had the man simply looked deeper into the case, had he just noticed the familiar patterns of the crime, then he would know that the man you unknowingly outed was none other than the villain they had tried so hard to capture. He could not simply hand this case to another person. No, he knew what needed to be done, what level of protection you needed in order to get out of this disaster alive, and who could protect you as he resolved the case.

Which brought the two of you in front of his old friend’s cabin in the middle of nowhere. Okay, that might have been a tad bit exaggerated. Technically, Steve had neighbors in this mountains…just not near him…for miles..

Bucky cocked his head to the side, clearly confused as to what Steve said. “What?”

“We’re the same age. Therefore, If I am experiencing menopause, shouldn’t you be too?” Steve answered scathingly, clearly taking offense on Bucky’s senseless quip. He squinted his eyes at the equally tall man. Bucky’s jaw dropped dramatically, his hand covering his mouth.

“What?” He gasped theatrically. “Meaning to say you can still procreate?”

Steve clearly wasn’t amused. He stepped closer and to your astonishment, Bucky ran behind you. He humorously cowered on your back, using you as a human shield between him and the slighted former captain.

And that was the first time Steve Rogers laid his eyes on you.

To an untrained eye, no one could see him paused. But Bucky saw it. It was as though someone knocked the air out of his friend’s lungs. It was as though you were an occurrence that he never saw coming.

As the case may be, Steve led the two of you in his cozy cabin. The fire from the chimney made the place considerably warmer. Steve wordlessly placed a steaming cup of tea in front of you. Before you could even express your gratitude, he was already turning his back on you and sat on the chair in front of you and Bucky.

“Where’s my tea?” Bucky asked, looking longingly at the cup in your hands.

Steve merely spread his legs further, getting comfortable as he leveled his glare at his best friend. “She’s a guest.”

“I’m you guest, too!”

Steve shook his head slowly, “No, you’re not. You’re an unwanted nuisance, my acquaintance at best.”

Bucky could only blinked owlishly at his best friend. How could he categorized him as an acquaintance as if he didn’t grow up with him? The audacity. The nerve. But then he remembered, he must be kinder to Steve because he was the one needing a favor from him.

After Bucky went to the kitchen and served himself a tea all while mumbling under his breath how hospitable and recluse his friend had become, he went straight to business.

He laid out the facts, and Steve in turn listened intently. Bucky could see that he was just an inch closer to agreeing, and he needed just a push.

“She knows how to cook! She wouldn’t be a bother to you, right Y/N? You know how to cook?” Bucky exclaimed, his expression hopeful as he looked at you.

You shook your head slowly and you could see him visibly deflate.

“She knows how to do the laundry. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger while she’s here-“

You tapped his broad arm, before scooting closer to him. You whispered sheepishly to him, “I don’t know how to do that, too.”

“What?” he whispered back in astonishment and utter confusion.

Steve watched the two of you with a bored expression. His arms were crossed in front of him as he assessed the situation. This was not the first time Bucky used his space as a safe house. Usually, they only stay for a couple of weeks because that was how quick Bucky moved. When his best friend was intrigued with a case, he became so hyper focused that he only breathed for the case. In addition, the last time Bucky brought someone, he promised that it would be the last one.

And yet, here you were.

He could already feel the headache coming.

“Maybe you two want to talk it out first?” He asked when few minutes passed and you two were still conversing under your breaths.

Bucky offered him a sincere smile. “Come on, punk. For the spirit of Christmas, do it for me.”

He looked at him with deadpanned expression, “It’s October.”

He did not know how, but you and him watched as Bucky drove out of the property with a victorious smile on his face. How he was able to convince him was lost on Steve.

The first week went by quickly. You were somehow starting to be familiar with Steve’s routine. You noticed that early in the morning and before he locked the doors in the evening, he did parameter check. No matter how cold it was outside, he would do it without fail. You would admit that it made you feel safer. For the first time in months, you felt as though you were out of harm’s way. And in turn, you attempted to cook him meals. But that ended up a peril to the both of you…and his house.

You tried your very best to do his laundry, even his underwear. You were confused at first why you were having a hard time removing the stains form them. The look of horror in Steve’s face when he saw you hand washing his delicates was priceless. He was a man of great stature and nothing and no one managed to faze him. Until you.

He was so focused on your hands holding his underwear that he failed to notice how you were able to turn his white shirts into red.

He was still blushing and was unable to look in your eyes when that night, you gently place a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He nodded his gratitude to you before engulfing the cup with his massive hand. He took on sip before he started coughing uncontrollably. In your panicked state, you went to him and touch him for the first time. You rubbed his muscular back, looking at his reddened face.

“What is this?” He asked between coughs. Only when he looked like he was near dying did he look at you.

“A coffee,” you answered.

“With salt?!”

A look of confusion passed your face before you realization dawned on you. Hurriedly, you went to him to take his sorry excuse for a coffee away from him. You were pouring it on the sink when you heard his concerned voice near you. In fact, you failed to notice him move and stand beside you because of your embarrassment.

“What happened?”

You contemplated whether you should tell him, but for his safety (and the safety of his food) you told him. With a deep breath, you turned to look at the tall man beside you.

“I lost my sense of taste.”

“Why?”

“Traumatic brain injury,” you admitted as though this was not a big deal, as though you didn’t almost die that night.

He didn’t need to know how- he had an inclination. Your enemy was powerful. Remarkably powerful that Bucky had asked for his help when he promised never to again. You were in danger.

You thought Steve would attempt to say something comforting like other people. Yet, all he did was to look at you intensely and nod his head as if in acknowledgement of your pain.

The next morning, you woke up to find all the ingredients in the kitchen with label, his beautiful handwriting on each of the container.

It was a cold night in November when Steve and your dynamic changed. You couldn’t sleep that night, your thoughts and anxiety about your future was getting ahead of you. It was as if you no longer had something to look forward to, as if it was solitary or death. You tried everything- from counting sheep, to reciting the alphabet backwards. And yet, you still couldn’t sleep. And so, you decided to warm a glass of milk when you heard it.

A sound of pain.

Fearing that something had happened to Steve, you ran to the side of the house you had never been in. You were thankful that the door was not locked when you barged in. The only weapon in your hand was a wooden spoon you would have used to stir your milk. Your eyes swept over the darkened place to fight the danger off and found none. The danger was in Steve’s mind. He was groaning in his sleep, his brows furrowed, showing his distressed. The sheet was entangled in his muscular limbs, sweat was rolling down his forehead.

He looked like he was in pain.

And you knew what it was, you had experienced what it was. It was something you wanted to run away from, and yet, you couldn’t. You were trapped in your own mind. And tonight, Steve was trapped in his own personal nightmare.

Softly, you brushed your hand on his hair, trying to soothe him. You called his name to wake him up, running your other hand up and down his arm in a pacifying manner.

“Steve, come on. Wake up,” you whispered when he started struggling, his muscles rippling from the intense emotions and anxiety rolling off of him.

“I’m here. No one’s gonna hurt you,” you buried your face on his chest. You had read somewhere that pressure was a good thing when someone was experiencing this to keep them grounded. You had desperately prayed that someone would be there for you when you felt like dying.

“I’m here for you..”

You repeated saying that until you felt him move. And only when his breathing turned normal did you look up at his confused and frightened eyes. Seeing as he was now awake, you attempted to move only for him to shackle you to his front with his muscular arms. He looked at you as if he couldn’t believe you were there with him, as if you were an angel that saved him the moment he thought he would perish.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. You were wary at that point. You felt as though you were crossing a line- something that you could never go back to. With his face so close to yours, you could feel something you never should have felt for this was only a temporary dwelling, your resting place.

This had a deadline.

You had gotten good at ignoring how handsome he was, how strong he was, how gentle he was to you… and how patient he was to all your shenanigans.

Most importantly, you were almost successful at ignoring how protective he was of you that he did not even let you cook. Or how he always had his hand on the small of your back when you two were walking outside. Or how he always checked on you each night and bid you good night. Or how he said without words how no harm would come upon you.

Or how feminine he made you feel.

It was so unlike how other men you had dated treated you. No, they didn’t treat you wrong… they just didn’t treat you the way he was treating you. Or look at you the way he was looking at you right now.

“Please,” he whispered.

And stay, you did.

It was before sunset when you opened your eyes. A heavy arm was thrown on your stomach, you back so close to his front that you could feel his warmth and a hardness you knew what it was. You felt a tinge of heat on your core. It had been too long… You could smell Steve this close. And by heavens, he smelled like home.

He smelled like yours.

But you knew you shouldn’t get attached. This would only bring chaos to his peaceful life. You weren’t ignorant to assume that his life in the military was peaceful. He wouldn’t be like how he was last night if not for the terrors he faced during his service.

And falling for him would only bring terror in his life. You could not bring yourself to ruin the peaceful and idle life he made for himself in this mountain.

With a firm decision, you left his bed.

Steve couldn’t remember sleeping as peacefully as he did…or waking up as late as he did that morning. Yet, all the calmness he felt vanished when he woke up without you. He knew he did not dreamed you. You were there. He felt you there. He held you in his arms. You soothed the demons living in his mind.

But where were you now?

His movements were abrupt as he scanned his room. He hastily moved out of his room, sweeping a look at every room he passed. He placated himself by thinking that you might have moved back to your room to sleep only to be disappointed. Your room looked cold. You weren’t there. He felt his heart beating, the sound drumming out of his ribcage that it hurt. He felt as though he could not breathe. With a poorly constrained terror, he started calling out your name loudly as he moved to every room of his house.

And still, you weren’t there.

You left, he was convinced.

And he felt betrayed.

How could you leave just like that when you brought color to his bleak life? When for the first time in years he felt that he wasn’t alone? How could you leave like that when you were able to silence the demons he tried so hard to kill?

He was hunched over the kitchen counter when he heard a door open. Unknowing that you left a bomb to explode by stepping outside, you flashed Steve a small smile. In your hand was a bunch of flowers you had plucked from around the area. Your smile froze when he walked to you like a bull ready to eviscerate his opponent. Barely stepping back, you were unprepared when you felt his powerful arms around you, his body trembling with anger and anxiety.

“S-Steve?”

If he heard you, he didn’t give an ounce of indication. His hold on you tightened, his face buried on your dainty shoulder. It went for so long that you started feeling uncomfortable. Your mind was set from your morning walk that you would go back to treating him like a friend. You were attempting to get out of his hold when he finally did speak.

“Do you even have an ounce of idea what I would do if you end up getting hurt?” His voice was cold when he spoke. He let you go to look at you. His anger was palpable. The calm and quiet Steve you knew was gone.

“I just went out to-“

“And you didn’t think of the danger?” He asked in indignation. The way he was looking at you made you feel like a petulant child, as though you did a terrible mistake. “You didn’t think that Bucky placed you in my care only for you to get hurt because what? You wanted to pick up flowers? Are you that thoughtless-“ He finally trailed off when he saw tears threatening to fall. Your lips were quivering from hurt. Steve suddenly felt at loss. He went too far, he was afraid to admit.

Without meeting his eyes, you stepped out of his hold, placed the flowers on the counter, and went up to your room.

It was hours later when a knock disrupted you from your hateful thoughts toward him and pitying thoughts for your situation. You were pouting when the door opened, revealing the person who vexed you today. You didn’t say anything, merely threw daggers his way. Steve didn’t know how to deal with someone like you, yet he knew he was in the wrong. He let his emotions get the best of him.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he said, watching your expressionless face. You hated how he talked to you. There was already someone bungling your life and making it miserable and making you feel like you were so small that he could step on you. You didn’t need another man to do that.

Coldly, you replied, “I only accept apologies in cash.”

And that was how you found yourself in town. Steve was on guard as he walked with you, his towering height made it possible to see everyone. He was serious while you were jumping up and down from excitement. It had been close to half a year since you were out in the public, and this felt like a treat to you. You were so used to living and providing for yourself that when shit happened, it was a big adjustment for you. Yet now, you had no qualm spending his money. It was reparation for damages that he did to you, you thought.

You smiled evilly as he paid for the camera that you bought.

It was not the fanciest, you were not that evil. But it was so long since you last held a camera. You were a photographer, one of the best actually. You were winning contests left and right. One day, you were innocently taking a photo of a landscape, admiring the nature and the vast land before you. Your focus was on the deers wandering aimlessly. You went home that day like any other work day. It was the next day when you were reviewing your photos that you noticed that just behind the deers, almost hidden behind the trees, were three men. One man looked like he was running, the other two was laughing with guns in their hands. It turned out you were a witness to a crime. Not long after, the body was found.

And that was how you got entangled in this whole fiasco.

It was almost December, and the market was already decorated with Christmas lights and in the middle of it all was the huge tree. You pulled Steve in front of it, lifted the camera, and took a picture of the two of you. You were looking at the camera, and he was looking down at you with a small smile in his face.

December came. It was the day before Christmas when Steve found you in the kitchen, attempting once again to cook properly. Regardless of the taste, Steve always ate your food without any reluctance. Yet, what you were cooking looked festive that it confused him.

“Is there an occasion?” He asked as he sipped his coffee, thankfully no longer salty.

“I’m one year closer to death.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s my birthday.”

You faced him with a smile. Steve walked to you, before embracing you in his arms. “I am so happy you’re alive, angel. Happy birthday,” he whispered in your ears. He wanted to say how happy he was you were here, too. Yet, he didn’t.

That night, he laid out the table so beautifully. Candles were lit in the middle. Steve cooked for the two of you, and he took out wine from his cellar. You and him were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace with wine glass in your hand.

“You never asked me why I had a nightmare,” Steve stated, he was swirling the wine as he looked at you. You could feel his body warmth this close. The wine, the candle, and the way he looked at you felt like this was something intimate.

“I figured if you wanted me to know, you would.”

“You weren’t curious.”

“We all have demons to live with. That’s what I thought. And I hope you defeat your demons,” you admitted before sipping from your glass.

What you didn’t know was his demons were becoming less and less strong the longer you stayed with him, he thought. You could silence them.

“Did you enjoy your birthday, angel?”

“I did. Also, why are you calling me an angel?”

“Because I feel safe with you.”

“What?” You sputtered. If anything, he should be the angel with the way he took you in when he didn’t have to. “If that’s the case, you’re the angel, Steve. You make me feel safe,” you stated with sincerity in your voice.

“I know I’m an imposition to you. I’m thankful that you took me in. Bucky mentioned that he’s almost sure that this will end soon. Thank you for letting me stay here, Steve. Soon, you can have this haven all to yourself. I will never forget your kindness. You’re my angel.”

When you finally looked up, you noticed how serious he was looking at you. His eyes drifted to your lips. Unconsciously, you licked your lips. Suddenly you felt as though you were parched. Steve hated the thought of him living in this mountain without you. You had been here for only close to three months and yet, you changed him. His house no longer felt cold. His house no longer felt empty. He hated the thought of losing you.

He thought that you were meant to be here.

Steve lowered his face to you, inch by inch. Until you felt his lips on you. He kissed you slowly at first, so softly that your eyes fluttered close. It was only when you opened your lips did he kiss you with such intensity that it made your breathless. His hand was on the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. His tongue demanded entrance, and you were too willing to give in. The taste of mint and wine on his lips made you kissed him deeper. With his strength, he pulled you on top of him. You were straddling him, and his hands were discovering your curves. The hard evidence of his pleasure was pressed on your core.

You were humping him, all rational thoughts flew out of your brain the moment his lips touched yours. From this angle, you could feel how big he was. You were moaning when his lips skimmed to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your pulse was erratic, he noted. You were as affected as he was. With barely restrained impatience, Steve placed you on the carpeted floor, his body closely following as he topped you. He caressed your soft thigh, your dress falling to your waist which gave him access to your core. As if to tease you, Steve ran his hand from your neck to your chest, down to your stomach, and finally to your thong.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered in your ear. “I bet you’re dripping wet for me.” Without any warning, he tore your thong away from you. He was in the middle of your parted legs, his look dark as he focused on your core. His finger traced your slit, making you moan as he smirked at how wet you were for him. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Your cunt is so wet for me.”

He slid down. Steve opened your pussy wider with his fingers and with his tongue, he tasted you. You were shocked at how much pleasure he was giving you that when he dove in and ate you like a man starved, you felt yourself go. Yet, he didn’t stop. A finger eased in you as he sucked your clit, moaning with gusto. You were so tight that he wondered how he would fit in you. He was thinking you were his, only his after this.

You were on your second orgasm, your legs shivering when he finally lifted his face. His beard was drenched with your essence, his hair falling on his forehead as he looked at you with heat in his eyes. Your dress was the next to go.

You were too in hazed from your orgasms, and his mouth sucking ferociously on your breast that you didn’t know how he got you and him naked. Yet, the next thing you knew, he was pressing his hard cock against your pussy. He kept pressing the head against you.

“You want me,” he said darkly. It wasn’t lost on you that it was not a question. Yet, you nodded your head. Because at that moment, you did want him more than anything else.

Steve rub his cock on your swollen clit before sliding it down on your tight hole. And then he shoved it inside you, pushing you to the edge once again.

He was only too glad you were too into it that you didn’t notice he had no protection. Or that he came inside you.

He was only too glad to taste you when you were awake. He had craved hearing your moans.

He was only too glad that you were a heavy sleeper some nights that he was able to spread your legs and taste you. He even marked your pussy with his cum on some nights. Of course, you would never know that. It was his secret.

Your talk about how this would all end, how he was going to be alone soon made him crazy. You didn’t know, but you unknowingly traded a dangerous man to another devil. He’d have a talk with Bucky, of course. Bucky would understand that he had to keep you. You’d go nowhere. You were his. He had been good all his life. Didn’t he deserve a Christmas gift, too? You and a baby soon, perhaps?

He smiled at your sleeping form. He couldn’t stop himself from hugging you closer. The snow was falling beautifully outside, the fire had long simmered. The sun was starting to rise. This was what Christmas truly felt like, Steve thought.

When you finally stirred, he whispered, “Merry Christmas, my angel.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers smut #dark steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfic

[nickfowlerrr]

fawn

pairing: dark!stucky x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY. kidnapping. noncon/dubcon. only bucky x reader smut. pet names. if i’m missing something important pls lmk!

words: 6.3k

notes: this is what i wrote when my power went out on christmas lmao. if this does well and people like it i’d definitely consider a part two with more stucky smut - just let me know if you guys like this and would read a continuation. 🖤thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

One click. No flame. Another click. Still nothing. Huffing, you readjust your hold of the lighter. The smell of Christmas already permeating the air, the aroma from the opened but still unlit candle bringing you the slightest bit of ease.

It was cold already and now with the heater out, it was biting. Regrettably your blankets were still sitting in your washer, and with the lack of power, they’d be there until it came back on and you could get them in the dryer.

You made to ignite the lighter again and it finally gave you a flame. Once you had your candle lit, you eased back down onto the couch. The sun was setting and the chill from outside was already seeping into your apartment. Pulling your knee highs back up, you sighed, taking in the darkness that would soon swallow you completely.

So much for finishing that stupid puzzle. You couldn’t see anything. The rattling of the balcony door pulled you out of the silence and had the pit that was already growing in your stomach grow deeper.

Voices from outside, coming from the hallway distracted you from the unpleasant shaking of the door. It was the wind, you knew that, but with each moment, it grew darker and darker and the unexpected noise was unsettling to say the least.

You were alone. And the solitude was welcome, mostly. That underlying, gnawing feeling of loneliness that was somehow always there, no matter how hard you tried to shake it, was starting to get the better of you. Momentarily. Always passing eventually. Or, more accurately, always shoved back down eventually.

The darker it got, you somehow found yourself settling further and further into it. As if it was welcoming you back. The silence, the flicker of the candle, the scent of pine and vanilla softly filling the room. This was okay. This was nice, even.

You felt yourself beginning to doze off, but the cold worked to keep you awake.

It wouldn’t be too long before they got it back on. An hour, tops. Then you could dry your blankets, maybe get a few more pieces of the puzzle put together before you slunk back into bed. A very merry christmas, indeed.

Sun was completely set now, no shadows coming in from the windows. No more watching the swaying of the trees outside. Just flickers of the candle flame dancing along the wall.

Then you heard it again. The rattling. If you had your tv on, or music playing, you were sure you wouldn’t have heard a thing. But in the silence, even a quiet disturbance was audible. Then there was that feeling again. That pit in your stomach. Something’s not right, it called.

Paranoia. That’s all it was.

Intuition, your mind argued.

It was Christmas night, most people were still gone for the holiday weekend, your building near desolate. Who would it be? When do crimes even happen here? It was ridiculous to worry. It’s the wind. Of course it’s the wind.

The creaking that sounded next, though. That wasn’t as easily explained. You froze, just listening. To ensure you heard what you thought you did. Was someone on the balcony? How would that even be possible? You waited. And waited. No more noise. But something was telling you not to let it go. You stayed seated, curled up into the corner of the couch, just staring at the door. You couldn’t see it clearly, the flame not strong enough to illuminate that far from its place on the coffee table. But you could see enough. Enough that as you watched, you suddenly saw the handle move, as if someone outside was opening it.

You always wondered how you’d react in situations like this. Flight or fight, what would you do?

Neither, apparently.

Because you didn’t move. You were like a deer in headlights.

Right, freeze response. You’d forgotten about that possibility. There was another, too, actually. What was that one called? You couldn’t remember.

F..it starts with an f…

The whole while you were trying to think, your eyes were trained on the door. You just watched. Watched as the figure cloaked in darkness let themselves into your apartment. Did they know you were here? Would they care? You weren’t even sure you were breathing as you stayed as still as possible. Maybe the darkness would conceal you. This stranger would take whatever they wanted, and you just prayed the lights would stay out until they were gone. Just be still. Be silent. Not that you could move or make a sound if you’d wanted to. It was like you were paralyzed by fear. The figure didn’t seem to notice you, not even looking in your direction.

The candle. The candle was lit. Was this person oblivious? It was a dead give away that someone was home. The intruder stayed quiet, didn’t seem interested in anything as he walked from the balcony door, across the living room to the front door.

Without thinking, your body was moving of its own accord. You rushed quietly behind them, into the hallway, still encompassed in the dark. You felt your way to your room as fast as you could without running into any walls or making sound.

Your front door opened, and you were confused now. Were they leaving? What was the point of breaking in in the first place?

“Took you long enough.”

The voice of a man, husky and gruff sounded from the front room.

“Shut up,” another man spoke, irritation clear in his voice. “Lock the door.”

Your brain stopped working for a moment. Two voices? Why were there two voices? Why were these men here? Do they know you’re here? What do you do now? Run? Hide? Where was your phone?

Dead. Right. It had died right before the power went out, you’d put it to charge but obviously that wasn’t happening at the moment.

A flash of light hit the hallway as the men walked past back into the living room. You didn’t want to move. Your room was so close, but you didn’t want to risk making a sound and bringing any attention to yourself. So you stayed frozen.

“How is breaking and entering into a crappy apartment supposed to be a christmas gift?” one of the men asked.

“It’s what’s in the apartament that’s the gift,”

“What’s in the apartament?”

“I should’ve worded that better,” the second man corrected. “Not what, but who.”

Three seconds behind. You were running on a delay now. Who?

You.

Three seconds.

Two sets of footsteps down the hallway.

One beam of light shining right at you.

Frozen. For a moment. No noise escaping you. The light too bright, blinding you as you winced. You still couldn’t see them. Not clearly. But they were tall. Bulked. You wouldn’t be able to get away from them if you tried. Funny how that thought came to you just a few seconds after you did.

Arms wrapped around your middle, and you were suddenly being pressed against one of the men as he held you, your back to him, keeping you tight against his chest. Still no sound leaving you. Just breathing, heavy breaths coming progressively quicker.

“Ah ah, princess,” he tutted in your ear as you stared wide-eyed into the darkness before you.

You fell asleep. That’s what happened. This was a dream. Just a bad dream, and you’d wake up any second now. That was the only explanation. Because this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“Don’t cry, dove,” he soothed. “Not gonna hurt you, just wanted to introduce you to a pal of mine.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears as they began welling in your eyes. He was speaking as if you knew each other. Like he knew you, intimately. The tone of his voice, the apparent affection. It was decidedly unnerving.

Your name fell off his tongue as if he’d spoken it a million times before, sending a chill through you as a small whimper finally managed to escape you. The flashlight was now shining on the man you were made to face. Dark hair, stubble on his jaw, piercing blue eyes cutting straight through you. You’d consider him pretty if this was a meeting under different circumstances. There was a look of contemplation on his face as he considered you. His gaze flicked from you to the man still holding you, a question clear in his eyes. Question.. or maybe an accusation.

“This is Bucky,” the man introduced. “I think you two are gonna get along real well,” he sounded almost excited. There was a tense moment of silence after he spoke, your eyes seemed glued to Bucky, your lip wobbling as you stood stock still against the stranger behind you. A painful squeeze of his arms around your waist, and you could feel his strength in his movements. You were sure he could break a rib, crush you easily if he wanted to. His hand gave your waist a squeeze as if he was waiting for you to do something.

“You’re normally so polite, princess. Use your manners. Say hello,” he instructed harshly. Normally so polite. Do you know this man? You started racking your brain for suspects, obviously someone you knew, someone you’d met.. Then suddenly your cheek stung, and you were brought back to the situation. He just slapped you? You blinked at Bucky, seeing him again as you refocused on reality.

“Hello,” you uttered weakly, breathily. You barely heard yourself.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you, his mouth slightly agape as if he wanted to say something. He didn’t. His eyes shifted back to his friend instead.

“This is your idea of a Christmas present?”

“I’m telling you, Buck, you’re gonna love her. She’s the sweetest thing, you’ll see,” he insisted, you could practically hear him smiling as he spoke of you like you weren’t even there. “She’s exactly what we’ve been looking for. She’s perfect.”

It was like your brain just couldn’t quite compute what you were hearing. You couldn’t make sense of it. All your thoughts were still trying to guess who this man holding you was. The maintenance man who came over last week for the leak? No, his voice was way deeper and he was stoutly. The guy at the grocery store who stopped you on your way to your car just to tell you how pretty he thought you were? He wasn’t nearly as built as this man was, you could feel his solid chest against your back, his biceps around you were muscular, nothing like the guy from the store. Was it the bookstore? The place you went to get your oil change? Hell, the drive thru worker from last night? You had no idea. You couldn’t place the voice anywhere.

“We’ll see about that,” Bucky groused. “Let her go, Steve, she’s not gonna run. Are you, sweetheart?” he directed at you.

Frozen. You opened your mouth ever so slightly to speak, but no words fell out. You blinked once. Twice. Finally you managed to shake your head, it was almost imperceptible, but he accepted it. Steve’s arms fell from around you as Bucky took a step closer. You didn’t move, didn’t even think to. Not even as the power kicking back on served as a distraction for half a second. You stayed where you were, only wincing again at the lights coming on. You could see him better now. He was dressed in all black, the darkness of his clothing and hair only made his eyes that much more striking.

“You got a pretty face,” he said appreciatively, his lip twitching upward slightly. You didn’t know why you couldn’t look away, your eyes locked on him.

There was a loud bang, you jumped at the crashing sound, turning to watch Steve as he proceeded to trash your living room. As your eyes landed on him, it took you a moment to put it together. Steven. So you did know him, albeit vaguely. Every Wednesday, without fail, you’d somehow arrive at the coffee shop you frequented at the same time he would. He’d always hold the door for you. You never really spoke, but he seemed so nice. Chivalrous.

What was he doing? What was happening? Why?

Your television hit the floor as you gaped at the sight.

“What?” you breathed out, confused.

“Sorry, gotta make it look like there was a struggle. Don’t worry, you won’t miss a thing,” Steve assured you.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” you started babbling. “What’s- why are you - what do you want? Why are you here? What’s happening, I don’t - I”

Gloved hands were on your arms as you began sputtering, turning you to face Bucky once again. His hand found your cheek, cupping your face gently as he looked you in the eye.

“Nothing you need to worry about, doll. We don’t wanna hurt you. So you’re gonna be good and listen to every word we tell you, won’t you?”

You kept staring at him, bloodshot doe eyes meeting his sharp, icy blue ones. You didn’t respond, but you allowed him to nod your head for you as you maintained eye contact.

“Good girl,” he smirked. “We’re gonna let Steve do what he needs to do and you’re gonna show me where your room is,” he instructed, turning you to face the hallway.

You walked without thinking, just doing as he told you. You didn’t want to make matters worse.

Flipping the light on, you entered the room. Bucky followed close behind you and moved further in even as you stopped right past the door.

“You got any preferences for clothes?” he asked as he looked in your closet. “We have some stuff, but I’m not sure they’ll fit you,” he said, looking you up and down. “Yeah,” he continued, agreeing with himself, “doubt it.”

You were just standing there like an idiot as he rifled through your belongings. You don’t know how much time passed before he got your attention again. He whistled as he held up a piece of lingerie from your drawer. He turned and held it up in front of you.

“I can see it,” he simpered. “You buy this for someone special, doll? Or maybe someone special bought it for you?” he prodded.

You simply shook your head, looking down now trying to avoid his lecherous gaze. He didn’t force you to speak, and you got the feeling he liked the fact you didn’t. Liked that you were being so obedient for him already. He shoved the lingerie into the duffle bag he’d found in your closet which he had already filled with a bunch of random clothes.

“I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to swing back around here,” Steve said casually as he entered the room. “If there’s anything important you want to bring, I’d grab it now, princess,” he told you.

“Where am I going?” you asked cautiously.

“You’re coming with us. We have our place all set up and ready for you. You won’t have to worry about a thing,”

“Time’s ticking, sweetheart. You heard Stevie, you want to bring something specific, go get it.”

You couldn’t think. They were taking you somewhere. They were packing your things. Steven , Steve, said you were perfect, but perfect for what? You then started to fret over leaving something behind. What if you really never came back here, what if all your things were just gone once you left with them. What do you grab, what should you take with you? That was easier to focus on.

You walked slowly over to your bed and grabbed your throw blanket, it was a security blanket, really. You never slept well without it. You watched as Steve walked into your bathroom with his phone out, he was taking pictures of your toiletries and beauty items. He must have felt your eyes on him because he looked back at you, smiling when he met your gaze. “We’ll get you new stuff, you don’t have to worry about bringing any of this.”

“This is going a lot smoother than it normally does,” Bucky said skeptically as he watched you give nearly no reaction.

“I told you, Buck. She’s perfect,” Steve repeated, smirking now as he turned back to continue making note of your things. “That’s what happens when we’re patient and wait for the right one instead of just trying to make random girls work,” he said, seeming to try and point a finger at his partner.

“She’s not putting up even a little bit of a fight,” Bucky mused aloud as he approached you, ignoring Steve and eyeing you darkly. “Why is that, doll?” he asked.

A few more steps and he was directly in front of you, eyes bearing into your own.

“Oh,” he breathed, a wry smile creeping on his lips. “I see it now,” his hands were on your face, holding you as he stared deeply into your bleary eyes, “you’re terrified, aren’t you?”

A broken whimper broke past your lips as you began to tremble slightly. Things were catching up now. The gravity of your situation, the insanity and brazen entitlement of these men in your home, speaking of you like you weren’t able to hear them, talking about taking you with them, how ‘perfect’ you were, the realization of it all, everything compounding, slamming into one another, sending you reeling.

It felt like only fifteen seconds had passed since you watched the balcony door open. How did all of this happen so quickly? It was like you weren’t even there. Just watching everything from an outsider's perspective. Passive. You were so passive.

You just wanted them to leave. You didn’t want to fight them, what point was there in that. You didn’t want to try and run, again, what would be the point? It was clear you weren’t getting away from them and they weren’t planning on leaving you. The only thing you could do was...nothing. Just let them do as they wanted, and try not to make things worse for yourself. Don’t provoke them or put yourself in more danger. They said they didn’t want to hurt you. All you had to do was listen. Just listen, you repeated over and over in your head.

The pressure of Bucky’s hands on your face increased slightly, the material of his gloves rough against your skin as he wiped at the stray tears that had started to fall again. All you could do was nod. He was right. You weren’t doing a thing to stop them because you were scared. You were utterly terrified.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. You’re doing perfect, listening real well, doing what we tell you,” he praised. “You know, Stevie, this just might be the best gift you’ve ever given me,” he called to his partner while he continued staring, his eyes taking in every detail of your face, lingering on your pouty lips.

You were a present. Not a person. At least not to them.

“Let’s see just how obedient you can be,” he said, his voice lower, darker. He was even closer now, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as he was nearly right up against you. Your chest was heaving from your stuttering breaths. Dread setting in the pit of your stomach as his touch left your cheeks and instead drifted down your body.

“Not here, Bucky.” Steve’s harsh words had Bucky’s hands halting in their exploration.

He sucked his teeth before taking a step back and turning to face Steve.

“You can wait another two hours,” Steve griped before turning his attention to you, softening slightly. “That’s all you want to bring, princess?”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

The question left your mouth before you even registered it as a thought. You saw Steve’s jaw clench as he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at your question. If you had to worry about stoking someone’s ire, it was clearly Steve’s. He worked to calm himself, taking a breath before he responded to you.

“I guess we haven’t really explained what’s happening here, have we?

See, Buck and I, we’ve been looking for a pretty little dove like you for a long time, now. But they were just never right. We gave up for a bit, decided the right girl would come along when she was ready. And then I walked right into you one morning. You remember it, don’t you? You were walking into the coffee shop as I was coming out. I wasn’t really paying attention, it was completely my fault, but you were so sweet.. Caring, understanding. Those are rare traits nowadays, ya know. I’m not sure exactly what it was about you that struck me, but I just knew..

I knew you were the one for us. Kept an eye on you for a while, I wanted to learn more about you, get to know you better. And turns out you’re as sweet as I thought you were. Lonely as us, too. We’re the perfect fit. I could see just how much you needed someone.

The number of times I’ve had to watch you cry all alone from the outside looking in, it was like torture,” he confessed as his hands were suddenly on your face, wiping at your tears. You hadn’t even registered him getting closer, didn’t notice him brushing past Bucky to take the spot he had been in, in front of you. “But you won’t ever have to do that again. You won’t be alone anymore, not with us. It’s a win-win situation, princess. You get to get out of this shithole, leave all the stress behind you, no more responsibilities - aside from taking care of us. But we’ll be taking care of you, too. I know this might seem scary, sudden, but it’s for the best, I promise. For all three of us,” he finished, looking back at Bucky who’s eyes were still set on you.

When Steve finally backed away from you, granting you some space, Bucky was quick to return to your side. He was intent on you, not wanting you to get very far from him, though you were hardly moving.

After Steve trashed the rest of your apartment, Bucky had the thrown together bag of clothes slung on his shoulder, ushering you in front of him to trail behind Steve.

When you’d made it downstairs to the parking lot of your complex, you were led to a sleek, blacked out fully tinted SUV. Steve went to the driver’s side and Bucky opened the back door for you. He helped you in and then climbed in right next to you. You heard Steve scoff as he looked back at him, but he didn’t say anything as he started the car and drove out of the lot.

You stared ahead blankly as the car made its way through and out of town, you were aware of the men talking back and forth, but the conversation didn’t include you - at least not that you heard. You were sure Steve would make it clear if he was expecting an answer from you, the way he had earlier, so you let yourself zone out.

What had you done wrong?

How did you find yourself in this position? It was Christmas. You were alone and vulnerable. How long had Steve been watching you? How long had you been a target and you hadn’t even realized?

Fuck, you were so stupid. Stupid, pathetic, and pitiful.

You didn’t even try to get out of this, just went along with them.

The feeling of a gloved hand settling on your leg brought you back to reality for the moment, looking down just as Bucky squeezed your thigh.

“If I had let me in on your plans, I could’ve gotten some stuff ready for her,” he spoke to Steve as his hand idly toyed with the top of your knee highs.

“What we have already will be fine for now. Besides, I didn’t wanna spoil the surprise.”

There was a beat as Bucky fiddled with your stockings, contemplating as he brushed his gloved fingers over your exposed skin.

“What’s our ETA?” he asked Steve.

“Another hour.”

He nodded, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “More than enough time,” Bucky responds smoothly, pulling you onto his lap just the same as you yipped in surprise.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters.

“Don’t be jealous Stevie, you’ll get your turn, too. She’s my present isn’t she? You got your gift earlier, why can’t I have mine now?”

“She’s ours,” he nearly growled in response.

“Guess that means you still owe me one, then,” he taunted back while his hands found your ass, groping you through the material of your shorts while you stayed as still as possible on his lap, though the lull of the car driving down the interstate didn’t make that an easy task. You eventually grabbed onto his shoulders to keep yourself upright as Steve passed yet another car, the speed threatening to send you into the door if not falling forward on top of Bucky.

Your unintentional wiggling had Bucky groaning and you could feel his erection growing beneath you.

“You make a mess back there, you’re cleaning it,” Steve warned.

All you could focus on, despite your every attempt not to, was the feeling of Bucky’s hands on you as you were forced onto his lap. Grabbing at your ass, running under your shirt, up and down your back, along your waist, gripping your wide hips as he began rocking you atop him. His bulge was rubbing against you with every move and though you tried to fight it, a stirring.. a tingling sensation in your core began to overshadow your fear and disgust.

Your hands were holding tightly onto him, one hand on firm muscle, the other seeming to cling to something more solid. It was an arm, but not one made from flesh and bone.

Bucky’s hands still on your hips suddenly forced you to sit fully down on him. You could feel his strength in the movement, you didn’t consider for a second trying to stop his hands as they slid down into the back of your bottoms, knowing it wouldn’t stop him. He grabbed your ass, his eyes hungry as he stared at you. He swiftly moved his hands up your back and pulled the hem of your top up and off of you in a flash.

You felt exposed and more scared than you’d been earlier, but deep down you had to have known this was coming. Of course it was.

He grabbed your breasts through your thin bra, kneading them in his still gloved hands. He took a second to finally rid himself of them and when you saw the metal of his left hand, you couldn’t help the audible breath you took as he brought it directly to your throat, squeezing enough to have you shiver but not to interfere with your breathing. He smirked as you subtly sank into him further with the show of dominance before he let his hand wander down and around your back to unclasp your bra.

Pulling the bra off of you easily, he pushed you back so you were up against the passenger’s seat as he ogled your chest. His hands wandered from your throat down to the waistband of your shorts, squeezing you, tickling you, playing with your breasts and teasing your nipples before he pulled you closer again, his head falling to your chest as he took one into his mouth. You worked hard to stifle the moan that threatened to escape when he suckled at you. His touch was all consuming and overpowering. The warmth of his mouth on your breasts, the way he held you to him, keeping your hips rocking against his as he groaned against your skin.

You were completely defenseless and had no plans of trying to fight back, no plans at all to try and stop it from happening. What good would it do? You’d let him have his way, do whatever it was he wanted to do and just get it over with.

He pulled off of you just as Steve sped around another car, you fell forward into Bucky, not bothering to right yourself, just letting your body rest against his, your head on his chest now. His hands found the waistband of your bottoms again and he worked to get them down your thick legs, not an easy task in the position he had you in. He barely managed to get them past your ass before he unceremoniously lifted you nearly over his shoulder and over the seat so you were leaning over him as he tugged them the rest of the way down. You were only then vaguely aware of your lack of shoes, briefly you wondered how you didn’t notice that when you first left your apartment. Your thong sliding down your calves, over the knee highs he left on you, had you refocusing on what was currently going on. You heard his zipper and felt him messing with his pants and it was only another second or two before you were pulled right back down onto Bucky’s lap, a mix between a gasp and a moan escaping you and a hiss escaping Bucky as his firm, hard cock pulsed against your bare pussy.

“Sit,” Bucky ordered firmly. You inched down only a bit more, earning a slap to your ass before he spoke again, “Sit. Down,” he growled.

You obeyed without another word, sitting fully on his exposed lap, the zipper of his pants rubbing against your skin as you did.

“Good puppy,” he praised darkly as he grabbed your face, pulling you to him and forcing eye contact. “I don’t like repeating myself, sweetheart. We’ve only just met, so I’ll give you a free pass this time. And I know you won’t do it again, will you, doll?”

“No,” you ekked out breathily, feeling the tears renew in your eyes. You shuddered as he kissed your temple before reaching between you and grabbing his cock, pumping himself once before he had you lift up for him, placing himself at your entrance. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck, the only thing keeping you steady as the shame of your arousal consumed you.

“Pussy’s all nice and wet for me, already, huh?” he teased.

You had nowhere else to go so buried your face in his neck, trying desperately to hide from the humiliation. His hands were on your hips and he didn’t give you any warning before he pulled you down, fully seating you on his dick, the air rushed from your lungs at the shock and stretch you were entirely unprepared for. He groaned deeply, a heady, “fuck”, tumbling from his lips as he held you there a second while you whimpered and cried.

“Son of a bitch, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growled before gripping your hips tighter, surely leaving bruises. You didn’t do anything, couldn’t move if you’d wanted to. You were gripping onto him like your life depended on it and somewhere deep down you were scared it just might.

Ten seconds passed and he just kept you there, sitting pretty on his cock while you cried into his neck. His grip lightened on your hips and he moved one hand to rub your back, clearly his attempt to ease you.

“Relax,” he soothed, “just take it. Take my cock like the good puppy I know you are,” he said, punctuating his sentence by thrusting up into you, making you cry out in response.

He was too thick. It hurt. Sure there was an underlying pleasure that was making its way to the surface the longer he stayed still, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion, but it was still uncomfortable. And being naked and exposed to the chill air in the car only made you more frigid. Even the heat coming off of Bucky wasn’t helping. You were covered in goosebumps and you had tear streaks still running down your face. You were a mess, a whimpering pathetic mess. Nothing more than a frightened little puppy, just like he knew you’d be.

A jolt of pleasure shot through you as his thumb was suddenly on your clit, rubbing in tight circles as you moaned weakly before laxing against him even further, inadvertently taking more of his cock inside you.

“Just like that,” he praised, giving you another few seconds to adjust to him. “Want you to bounce on my cock, you think you can handle that, doll?”

You shook your head, still hiding your face in his neck, not wanting to see the way he was looking at you.

He laughed darkly at your response before reframing your hips with his hands, “That’s alright, puppy. We’ll try again when your little pussy’s used to me. It’ll take some training, but you’ll get it eventually. I don’t have a problem doing it myself right now,”

All you could do was cry as he held your hips down on him, fucking up into you relentlessly, the material of his pants scratching at your delicate skin and his hold on you leaving marks you were sure you’d see in the morning. Your tits were bouncing as you bit your lip, groaning at the sensations shooting through you while Bucky cursed and growled, moans leaving him with every thrust into you.

“Please,” you cried, “please, please, please,”

“Fucking hell, Bucky, don’t break her before we even get her home,” Steve interjected sharply between your cries.

“You can’t feel the way she’s gripping me, she fucking loves it,” he panted, slapping your ass as he continued fucking you.

“Hurts,” you mewled desperately, hoping he’d take pity on you and at the very least slow down.

“Poor pup,” he patronized, keeping his pace as you clung to him.

“Buck,” Steve snarled from the front of the car.

Bucky grunted but soon slowed his movements, and began moving you up and down on his cock by your hips, lifting you and having you sit right back down, the new motion stimulating your clit with every tilt of your hips.

You walls clenched down on him as he slapped your ass again, groaning and growling as he kept you riding him.

His movements were slower, but he had you taking him deeper than before. “Fuck yes,” he moaned lowly, throwing his head back as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut as he groaned. His grip tightened on your hips as he felt you getting closer.

“You wanna come, sweetheart?” he teased, only getting a whine from you in response. He chuckled again, “You don’t have to deny it, doll. I know it feels good for you, too. I can feel your cunt tryin’ milk my cock. Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you exactly what you need, baby,”

His thumb found your clit again, playing you expertly as you writhed on his cock, unbidden moans falling from you as you felt a coil tightening in your lower belly.

“I’m gonna give it to you, you’re gonna take fuckin all of it. But you’re gonna come on my cock first,”

That coil wound tighter, and tighter, and tighter with each swipe of his thumb in tandem with his thrusts until you couldn’t hold it or fight it any longer and it finally snapped. A white hot heat running through your body as you cried out, holding onto Bucky as you came undone. The feeling of his warm cum hitting your walls as he finished inside of you registered too late, not that you could’ve done anything to stop him anyway. The post orgasmic haze quickly faded with the reminder of reality.

You slumped into him again as you began sobbing. His arms held your naked body against his fully clothed one as he relaxed, leaning back into the seat while a hand rubbed your back and you wore yourself out with the tears that fell.

“No tears, puppy. You did such a good job,” he cooed, only making you cry harder despite how exhausted you were.

He was right, you did a good job for him. Didn’t fight, didn’t try to stop it. Just let him have you, however he wanted. You were a coward. Terrified of being hurt, you let him hurt you. You could hate yourself for your lack of self preservation, but when you really thought about it, this was your self preservation. They could easily hurt you worse. They could kill you if they wanted and you’d never stand a chance. You didn’t want to live like this, but you didn’t want to die, either. You weren’t sure yet, but the latter certainly seemed like the worse option.

Just be good and don’t give them a reason to hurt you. That’s all you had to do. That’s all you could do.

Bucky kept you on him, stuffed full of his cock and cum while he held you against him.

You whimpered when you felt his cock get hard again inside of you but he didn’t move you, just kept you sitting on him - keeping him warm.

“We’re not that far,” Steve spoke, waking you as your eyes threatened to close while you laid against Bucky, thoroughly exhausted.

“Good, she’s about to pass out on me already,”

“‘S’alright, dove,” Steve said to you, “You can sleep til we get home and we’ll bring you inside. You’re gonna need your rest. Our night’s just getting started. We’ve got a lot of celebrating to do now that you’re finally home.”

You couldn’t help it as your tears fell once again, and Bucky rubbed your back.

“You’re gonna love it, doll,” he reassured you. “And if you thought that was good you have no idea how much better it is when it’s all three of us. We’ll have you seeing stars, baby,” he simpered.

“Tomorrow we’ll get everything else sorted, but for tonight, we’ll just get you comfortable. The only thing you’ll be crying for by the end of the night is more.”

#dark!stucky #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!stucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader #soft!dark steve x reader #soft!dark bucky barnes x reader #soft!dark steve rogers #soft!dark bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky barnes smut #soft!dark bucky x curvy!reader #dark!bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #dark!steve rogers x curvy!reader #dark!bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #soft!dark bucky barnes x plus size!reader #soft!dark steve rogers x plus size!reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #dark!steve rogers x plus size!reader #dark!bucky barnes x plus size!reader #dark!stucky x curvy!reader #dark!stucky x plus size!reader #plus size!reader #curvy!reader

[highonmarvel]

Isolation

Steve Rogers: Steve comes back.

An entry for Day 5 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Prompt: Isolation, ft Steve Rogers (Captain America) of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Warnings: NON-CON, signs of declining mental health, captivity, 18+!

When Steve first put you in his basement, you nearly scoffed at the cliché: prisoner in the basement, like he couldn’t be bothered to be even slightly more creative. That was a few days ago, you think. You really had no way of telling. You remember screaming and banging on the door—you can still see the faint lines your nails scrapped onto it—but you can’t remember when that was. At first you counted a day as the next time you woke up, but you gave up, not because it’s obviously wildly inaccurate, but because you lost count of that, too.

You were hungrier than comfortable, but by no means starving, so maybe in that way it couldn’t have been too long, right? Without change, there is no time, and there has been no change in the basement since… however long it’s been. You couldn’t even rule out it had been months, though evidently ridiculous as that was considering your relative physical health (or, at least, as far as you can tell, or as far as you’re willing to believe), your sense of trust is out of balance.

Steve had been your best friend, you trusted him most, you never for a split moment thought he would hurt you. Steve, who’d you known all your life, time, as well, you’d known all your life: if you couldn’t trust Steve, could you trust your sense of time? You didn’t realise how much people rely on time, even when they have nothing important to attend to; time is the one constant, hours pass whether you want them to or not: you have no constant now.

You sit on the mattress (stained with a little blood you assume must be your own) hugging your knees to your chest, staring straight ahead. You weren’t going mad, you hadn’t had any hallucinations, had you?

Down here, there had only been the sounds you made—your breathing, your screaming, your crying—but your ears prick at an unfamiliar noise. It’s not unfamiliar, really, just one you haven’t heard in a while. Metal, not a lot, shifting around…

A key in a lock!

You scramble to stand up just as Steve pushes open the door, and your eyes lock immediately. You can’t help but notice even now he still has that superhero stance, his posture, standing tall and strong; assuring to everyone else, intimidating to you. But you refuse to allow yourself to be intimidated.

Steve doesn’t say anything as he begins his decent down the stairs; he looks away, but you stay fixated on him. When he reaches the floor, he turns to you with a smile.

No thought, you just sprint.

You dart towards the steps, but he easily scoops you up, and you’re bent over his shoulder, screaming as you hit your fists against his toned back and kick your legs uselessly in the air.

Another sound you hear, it sounds familiar, sounds like words being formed by a noise different to the one you make when you speak. It’s so bizarre to hear Steve speaking, so bizarre to hear anyone speaking but yourself after all (?) this time of hearing the same melody. It’s so bizarre, in fact, that you don’t really even register it, what he’s saying, until you’re dropped onto the mattress on the floor, falling quite a way (relative to what you would be used to hopping into bed) with a shriek.

“I’ve been alone, too,” he says, towering over you, blocking the single light that illuminates the basement, the light that hasn’t once turned off since you were thrown down here, it hasn’t even flickered.

He suddenly drops to his knees, straddling you. This position feels familiar, too; his knees caging you as you writhe under him in distress; it feels like the second time, now. It is the second time. And the first time this happened it ended with you being literally thrown into his basement. What would he do when he was done this time?

“Look…” he gently raises your right hand to his eyes, examines it, and then tilts it to display your nails to you; they’re bitten down so bad you’re bleeding, or maybe you’re bleeding from clawing at the door, either way, they’re damaged, fairly badly, and you stare back at your own fingers in shock. How could you not have noticed this?

“When you’re alone,” he says, gently, softly laying your hand back down to your side, “You hurt yourself. That’s why you need to stay with me.”

Right! You were at his place, as usual, and as you were falling asleep when he started, started speaking about how you needed to stay with him, because you needed him. Though while he violated you, he spewed the opposite.

“I need you…” he grunted.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the thoughts, but that memory seems to be replaying in front of your very eyes, a huge wave of déjà vu crashing over you as Steve strokes the side of your face. You slap his hand away, and that loving gaze he’d been showering you in turns dark. You try to throw a punch to his jaw but he catches your wrists and gives you a disapproving look. It’s extremely frustrating this seems to be so easy for him.

With nothing else to do, you start kicking and screaming; you’re sure it won’t accomplish anything, but you refuse to just roll over and accept this, no. You twist and turn under him until, to your surprise, he raises himself just high enough for you to turn all the way over. Before you can comprehend your little freedom, he brings his knees back down to the back of your own, and though it’s evident he’s not using all his weight, it’s still enough to make you cry out.

He lets his knees fall to the sides and manages to restrict your movements enough to tug your shorts down.

You want to scream No! but after all this time, you’re not sure if your voice can work to form actual words; you’ve only been screaming and sobbing for days. Or hours? Since he left, you haven’t spoken since he left, and you’re not sure if you can now.

You hear him spit in his hand and his soft groans as he strokes himself, and you’re lucky you can’t see it. You try to claw at his legs as you feel him line up with your entrance but he manages to pull your wrists together and shove them into your back.

He enters you slowly and with a soft groan, tears springing to your eyes as you sob, incoherent; you’re sure you’d plead with him to stop if you could. He ignores you and thrusts deep, in and out; you’re sure his careful movements may have looked loving and respectful to someone on the outside, yet it was anything but, despite what he’d have you believe.

“I need you…”

⍟

#sintember 2023 #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x you #soft!dark!steve #soft!dark!steve rogers #yandere steve rogers

[romanestuffsposts]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Stucky Masterlist ࿐ྂ

Panic Attack (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Little reader woke up alone in the bed and is having a panic attack

Can We Have a Puppy ? (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You are ready to do everything to have a puppy

Sick Baby (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You're not feeling well so your Daddies are taking care of you PART 1

Food Poisoning (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) they finally know what's wrong PART 2

Snowy Night (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) a lovely weekend with your daddies in a cute cabinet on a snowy periode

No Change! (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You make your daddies chase you because of one little thing

Cranky Little One + dark punishment (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You miss your stuffie ever since you lost him. So when you got to see him in your dream you were so happy. Unfortunaly for you, someone whoke you up and set a bad mood in you at the same time

Overwhelmed (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) meltdown after a busy day

Cranky Baby (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you woke up cranky and enjoy watching your Daddies dealing with it

Accident (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you cut yourself and has a hard time dealing with your mind

Anxious Babygirl (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) your Daddies help going through an anxious and sad day

Anxiety Attacks (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) anxiety lives with you since a long time so it's not a surprise that you fall into a panic attack after meeting your parents for the first time since a long time.

She's Not Your Little! (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader + a stranger ) What can goes wrong when you're at the mall with your daddies telling them a funny story that happened at work ?

Pull Ups (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) a lovely morning with your Daddis

Late Night Care (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you fell asleep in the car and wake up in a comfy bad. What a great surprise!

Car Accident (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) a deer comes in between the car and the road

Tought Time Sleeping (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) What to do when you can't sleep ? You go to your daddies for snuggles and cuddles

Car Sick (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you are sick in the car and your Daddies reassure you that it's okay and take care of you

Nice Snowy Day (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) a playful day in the snow with Daddies and cuddles afterward!

Tired And Sad little one (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) your are tired but won't sleep until you have your stuffie

Nice Day at Home (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You can decide what to do today

Fever (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) being sick and the only preoccupation of your daddies is *chef kiss*

Mean Friends (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) your friend upset you by being mean toward you so you ran in your daddies arms for comfort

Period Time (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) bad periods ? Cramps ? You’re uncomfortable ? Don’t worry, your Daddies are here

Cozy Day (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) what do you need after a long day ? Daddies will get it for you little one

Intruders (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) someone broke in and woke you up. He better runs before your Daddies get to him

Concussion (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you were thirsty in the middle of the night but missed a step...

Over Heated (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you got a bit over heated after a day under the sun

Episode of Minor Heart Issue (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you're about to prepare you a good lunch when something from earlier is suddenly coming back. Fortunately for you, your Daddies heard you and are here to make sure you're fine, as always.

Thunderstorm (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) When you're scared, you can always count on your lovely Daddies

A Misunderstanding (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) what happen when they punish you and discover you didn't do anything ? Soft punishment but hard words

Maybe She's Sick ? (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you woke up not feeling good at all but you couldn't explain what was going one. Your Daddies quickly saw that something was off with you when you weren't yourself, a playful and happy little baby.

Too Much Coffee ? (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) your Daddy is leaving for a mission and you try to find things to make him stay

You, And Only You (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You only want one Daddy to make things for you

We're Here Baby (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) When your day was long, you always have daddies waiting for you with open arms to do nothing but taking care of you

Relaxing Day (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Just a lovely day and night with your Daddies

I know It hurts, Baby (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you were scared to have your wisdom teeth removed and your daddies reassure you before and take care of you afterwards

Trouble Washing your Teeth (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) your dadies help going over your sensory issue by finding way to make it more fun

The Rain Will Get You Sick, Sweetness (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you play in the rain and eventually get sick afterward

It's My Arm Now! (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) after a nightmare, you decide to steal your daddy's arm so it can protect you from the monster in your closet

IUD Replaced (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you have to get your IUD replaced and you're daddies are here with you the whole time

Running Errands (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) a lovely afternoon with your daddies in the store

Nice Night In (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) your Daddies cooked you a delicious meal and prepared you a nice and warm bath

The Unpredictable Happened... (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) your Daddies thought they were safe from your disease but their worst nightmare is making it's way slowly toward you

Self Conscious About your State of Mind ? (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You're feeling super self conscious about your little space and end up breaking all the rules your Daddies asked you to follow

Bad dream, Princess ? It's okay, Daddies are here (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) your Papa hears you having a nightmare and goes to calm you down. You're soon join by your Daddy

Bad tantrum (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) after a hard day, you let everything leaving your body no matter how it goes away

Too Much Love To Sleep (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) your Daddies suddenly wake up from all the love they have for you

It's Too Dark to Sleep (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) After your nighty died, you told your Daddies you were a big girl and could sleep without one but the truth is shown a few days after

Hurt Ankle (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You hurt your ankle after stepping on a rock in the garden so your Daddies take care of you

A Perfect Sunday Morning (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) What is better than a morning with your Daddies where they're playful, where you cook breakfast together ?

A Bad Period (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) In your bad period of the month, your Daddies take care of you

A Normal Day With Your Daddies (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) What a normal day would look like ? (List)

A Spoiling Little One (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddies are spoiling you today

A Bad, Bad Dream (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddies are taking care of you after a bad nightmare

You faint but are not alone, Daddies are here (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You faint in front of them and woke up under two scared and worries face peering down at you

A Bad Night At The Restaurant (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you got food poisoning after a delicious night out with your Daddies

Bad Chronic Stomach Pain (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) what happen when your stomach hurts too much ? Your Daddies take care of you of course

You Missed Your Nap (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You fall asleep on the couch because you didn't had your nap

A Very Big Obsession (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Who said you were obsessed with Winnie the pooth ?

Bothering Hair (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Papa has a good idea to help you getting over what's bothering you ; cutting your hair

Rescue (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddies are ready to fight to have you back

Bad Screams (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You're scared to become like your father, but Daddies prove you that they'll protect you from that

Come Back, Please (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddies were really busy with work so you wanted to show them the beautiful draw you had done for them but they snapped and scared you away..

A Night of Illness (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You're sick and your Daddies take care of you

Don't Hurt Yourself to Take Away my Pain, Sweetie (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You took a cookie behind your Papa's back which hurt him.

Not Enough (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You didn't ate enough food and your Daddies came back home just in time

Beautiful Sunset With a Lovely Picnic (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddies took you on a beautiful picnic in picnic season to watch the sunset

Be Nice With your Body, Sweetie (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you always crack your fingers which worries your Daddies a lot

A Perfect Afternoon in the Pool (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you have a playful afternoon in the pool with your Daddies

An Anxious Day (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You anxiously wait for your Daddies to come back home because all you need is them right now

New Friends (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you meet your Daddies's friends at the tower for the first time

First Day at School (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You're scared of your first day at school but your Daddies reassure you before and take care of you after your day

The Most Perfect Gift (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Nobody would tell you where your Daddy is for days so when he comes back, you don't let him go

When School is Too Much, Daddies's Arms Are The Best (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You have too much homework and can't take it anymore

Big tantrum (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddies ignored you because of work and you had enough

Bad Jealousy (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddies don't like how Tony is with you and finally have enough

How Protective ? (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) How protective Daddies are with their little ?

What Happen When You're not Tired ? (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) It's bedtime but you decide otherwise

A Naptime Routine (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your favorite moment of the day is here!

Too Far (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddies went too far with a punishment. (No details of what happened during the punishment!)

The Love of Being Rocked to Sleep (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You can't get enough of your Daddies's arms to help you falling asleep

Blanket Will Protect Him (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddy had a bad day so you wrap your favorite blanket around him to make him feel better, like it does to you

A New Super Power Unlocked (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You discover that when you close your eyes, nobody can see you. Or at least that's what you think, let's test out that theory...

Too Much Work Cause Too Much Stress (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your Daddies tried everything during the week to make you feel little so you could relax from work, but it's only on the end of the week that it worked

You Don't Want To Be Alone (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your goal today is to spend all the day in your Daddies arms. Only, a meeting interrupt your desire and you're not happy

Fainting Spells At the Zoo (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you went to the zoo together but the sun was too hot for your little head

Halloween Party (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You went to a party for halloween and you were really proud of your costume

Sick Day (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) Your feeling sick and don't want to tell your Daddies. But when they understood, they were the most comforting daddies you could ask for

Surgery Day (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you need to have asurgery and your Daddies reassure you

No Need Pulls Up (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) you don't wanna wear pulls up today

A losing job reassurance (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You just lost your job but you gain more comfort from your daddies

What is period ? (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) it's your first time having your period while being in your little space and you don't know what happen

Pushed (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You're just minding your business at the mall but some guy doesn't have your time

Anxiety Pain (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You feel a pain in your little fingers when your anxiety kick in but your Daddies are always here to kiss them better

Babied (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) You got hurt and slip more, your Daddies babied you until you don't think about what happened anymore

Christmas Moment (Daddies!Stucky x Little!Reader) it's christmas morning!

#bucky barnes x steve rogers x little reader #daddies!stucky #daddy!bucky #little!reader #papa!steve #masterlist #marvel masterlist #marvel fic #marvel #soft!dark fic

[navybrat817]

Sweet as Cherry Pie

Pairing: Soft Dark!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve comes home with great news, but you're not as happy as you should be. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Implied smut, noncon/dubcon elements (you have been warned), gaps in memory, gaslighting, coercion, creepy vibes, Steve Rogers (yep, he's a warning and a little mean) A/N: Steve and Cherry's Intro for my Disturbia AU! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You always enjoyed baking. It gave you something to do with your hands and the hobby was both simple and challenging. It required focus for measuring and following directions, but you also had fun with your creations. It seemed to be one of the only ways you could express yourself now, which clouded your feelings when you focused too much on it.

I will not feel sorry for myself. I have a good life. The best life.

Being the wife of Steve Rogers was a dream come true. The man was handsome, loving, a hero. The all American dream wrapped up in the perfect package. He worked hard to provide you both with a lovely home and didn't ask for much in return. Only that you follow his orders and be dutiful.

A good wife obeys her husband.

You idly wiped down the counter as you waited for the oven timer to go off, glancing at one of the photos Steve placed near the window. While he smiled from ear-to-ear, yours was a little more reserved. He loved drawing and taking photos of you, but there weren’t any photos of the two of you before you moved to The Haven. They were somehow lost in the move.

Not that I remember packing any of my stuff, but my old place doesn’t matter, does it?

The sound of Steve’s motorcycle pulling into the garage pulled you from your distracted thoughts. He normally called if he was going to come home early. The sound of the door would indicate if he was back for a good or bad reason. Either way, he’d take his mood out on your body. You had to look presentable.

A good wife lives to please her husband.

You threw your apron off and rushed to your room to put on the cherry scented perfume he liked. He enjoyed it because it was seductive and sensual, sweet and tart, good enough to eat. As if on autopilot, you applied it to the same four spots: behind your ear, at the base of your neck, your wrist, and behind your knee. You retouched your lips next, staring at the tube of lipstick once you finished. It wasn't a color you wore until you moved in with him.

Steve picked it because he knows best.

When you looked at your beautiful reflection in the mirror, the urge to smash it began to surface. A flickering flame grew within you, threatening to spread like wildfire as you dropped the lipstick into the sink. There was nothing wrong with looking pretty for your husband. You just wished the person staring back at you was one you recognized.

I’m Cherry. I’m Mrs. Steve Rogers. I’m happy.

“Sweetheart?” Steve called to you before he gently shut the door. He was in a good mood at least. “Mmm. Something smells delicious.”

You straightened your dress and brushed off any negativity that bubbled under your skin as you went to greet him. Not a single blonde hair of his was out of place as he took in the sight of you. The need to impress him took over your thoughts. “Hi. Cookies are almost done,” you said, pressing your red lips to his cheek. “I didn’t expect you to come home so soon.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see my beautiful wife,” he asked as he slipped off his shoes and guided you toward the kitchen. Any excuse to touch you, he did. “Why? Are you not happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you,” you said as you grabbed an oven mitt. The timer went off a second later and his eyes didn’t leave you as you carefully took the sheet out. “I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Everything’s great,” he said, inspecting the cookies as you set them on the stove. You knew it was a wonderful batch without tasting them. The perfect man, he expected perfection in every extension of him. Which is why you didn’t make mistakes with any of your baking or cooking. "I have the best news.”

"Oh? What is it?" you asked curiously.

"Bucky’s married!" he said, taking you by the waist to twirl you around. “Can you believe it?”

"Married?" you repeated, not as happy as your husband. The news should’ve excited you since Bucky was his best friend, but it confused you. "I didn't know he was seeing anyone."

"No? I swore I told you he had his eye on someone,” he said with a condescending chuckle. “Makes me think you don’t pay attention when I speak to you, but that can’t be it, right?”

You went rigid in his grasp when he smiled. It reminded you of a demon, the shades of red and darkness showing in his eyes and perfect row of teeth. “It must’ve slipped my mind. Silly me,” you tried to giggle.

Like so many other things.

You didn’t relax until he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Because you’re so busy taking care of me, which I appreciate,” he praised you, his smile softer. Kinder. “And it’s better most days when I do the thinking for you.”

You bit your tongue so hard you almost drew blood, wanting to say that you were more than just a pretty face. The words didn’t come though. “You know best, Steve” you said as you plastered a smile on your face, your voice somewhat hollow after his insult. “And I love taking care of you.”

If he noticed your lack of enthusiasm, he didn’t say so. “Back to the good news,” he said, swaying with you even though there was no music. “It was a quick engagement and they didn’t want to wait. I wish I could’ve been at the ceremony, but I had that mission and I don’t blame him one bit for not waiting.”

“I’m sure he would’ve loved for you to be his best man.”

“He would’ve, but I'm happy that he’s happy. When you know, you know,” he said, tapping the tip of your nose. “Like the moment I met you. I knew you were going to be my wife."

Your smile faltered a little. It was difficult some days to remember just how you two came to be Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. You knew you loved him, but the actual process of falling for him? The build up of the relationship? It was like there was a chapter missing.

The past is the past and I have everything I need in the present.

Steve looked at you expectantly as you blinked. You needed to focus. “Just like I knew you’d be my husband.”

He hummed, seemingly pleased with your response. "We're going to meet her soon. Will you do me a favor, please? Make her feel welcome?" He suggested, but it was more like a command. He sometimes liked to phrase things in ways that made it sound as if you had a say in the matter, but his word was law. “Bucky’s my best friend and I want you two to be best friends.”

"Of course. It’ll be nice to have a new friend.”

“And once she’s settled in, I know they’re going to start trying for a family,” he went on, placing his hand on your stomach. “Which means we can try, too. Our kids can grow up together, the way Bucky and I did. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

Steve would be the best father. He deserves a family. So does Bucky.

“So wonderful,” you whispered, afraid you’d cry if you raised your voice. You wish you knew why the thought of having children with the man you loved scared you.

“Maybe we can start practicing,” he said, his voice huskier as he gripped your hips. “A bit of dessert before dinner.”

You didn’t protest as he backed you against the counter. Your body would welcome him home the way it always did. He’d please you as you pleased him.

“And Cherry?”

“Yes, Steve?” you asked as he dipped his head to inhale your perfume.

“Make a cherry pie for me to send to Bucky’s house. I don’t think he plans on leaving anytime soon and he isn’t letting his wife leave the bed. We can’t let them go hungry now, can we?”

“No, we can’t,” you replied, closing your eyes as he pushed your dress up.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered.

Happy husband. Happy wife. Happy life.

All good in the neighborhood, right? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #disturbia au #steve and cherry #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x female!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans

[krirebr]

We're All Monsters AU Masterlist

The Vampire side of my and @paperweight91 's giant supernatural AU.

See each story for warnings.

Psycho Killer - Ransom Drysdale x Little Rabbit

A drunken dare and chance encounter jump-starts a whole new life.

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Steve Rogers x Sunshine

Your vacation comes to an end when a powerful and mysterious man gets his first taste.

Coming Soon

Heads Will Roll - Curtis Everett x Angel x Jake Jensen

Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.

Killing Moon - James Mace x Sneak

When you and your boyfriend steal something without fully realizing who you are stealing from, you're sent on a cross-country adventure by an ally you're pretty sure you shouldn't trust.

Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale

Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two... A prequel series to I Can't Sleep Cause My Bed's On Fire

Head Over Heels

All Cole wants is someone to share eternity with. He won't stop looking until he finds them.

#we're all monsters #we're all monsters masterlist #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #dark ransom drysdale #dark reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #curtis everett x female reader #curtis everett x reader #jake jensen x female reader #jake jensen x reader #curtis everett x reader x jake jensen #james mace x reader #james mace x female reader #james mace #ransom drysdale #steve rogers #jake jensen #curtis everett #steve rogers x ransom drysdale #vampire au #soft dark cole turner #cole turner x reader

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 4

Summary: you just don't know when to quit...

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explici

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, mean!Steve, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, degradation, oral sex (F&M receiving), slapping, choking, drinking, begging, tears, swallowing, spitting, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*tattoo edit by @randomagnes0210

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Steve?” Bucky pokes his head in his best friend’s office, and Steve tenses. Scowling as he looks up at him, “Dove is in class, and she is fine,” Steve stands up quickly, starting to walk towards the door. If Bucky didn’t want to watch you, then he would. He’d just make sure Bucky paid for it later., “Where are you going?”

“If you’re not going to watch her, then I will,” Bucky sighs, as he takes a seat in the chair in front of the desk. Leaning back, and propping his legs up. “I’m glad you don’t think this is important.”

“She’s a good kid.”

“Please, don’t call her that. She’s not a child,” it’s the last way he would want to see you. The first way is underneath him, crying while he pushes into your warmth.

Bucky takes a slow breath as he covers his eyes, “That’s not what I mean. I call Sam a kid. She’s fine, Steve. She started her classes again. Nothing has happened, and I need a break.”

“And why do you need a break?” Steve huffs. His flair for quick anger rising up into his cheeks as his brows furrow. “What about my Dove?”

“And what about my girl?” Bucky’s voice raises, standing up and going nose to nose with his friend. “What about her being unprotected?”

“You never brought her into the fucking club. Nobody even knows about her! Dove….”

“You are the one that walked her through the club, drenched in her pussy juice, and your arm on her back. You are the one that has been seen out and about with her. You are the one that put the damn target on her back. But nothing has happened. She is in school, and she is fine. She’s being your good little innocent girl, going to class. And she’s still not fucking begging for you, you fucking prick.”

Steve takes a slow step towards his oldest and best friend. No one talked to him like that. His hand lifts, and moves towards Bucky’s neck, but Bucky is faster. Wrapping his hand around Steve’s wrist, stopping him, “I don’t want to fight, Steve. I’m just saying that I need a break.”

“You’re the only one I trust to watch her, and I think she’s getting used to you.”

Bucky starts lowering Steve’s hand. Trying to remain calm. Steve didn’t respond well to aggression, “You have her schedule. You can be the one to watch her when she gets out of class. Stop being a child,” Bucky growls when Steve lets out an exasperated puff of air. “Your little bird will be fine. I promise. It might do you some good to realize how annoying it is to sit and wait on her every move. You need to move her in with you at this rate.”

“I can’t have her in my fucking bed, until she begs for me. I can’t have her laying next to me knowing that I couldn’t just use her whenever I want.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. She was doing well after the cabin. Just stop being so damn hard. Poor Dove is overwhelmed with her head and her body. It’s a lot. Now. I am going to be off. Please, leave me alone,” he nods his head to Steve as he starts to leave.

Steve looks down to the floor, a mild panic setting in at you not having someone watching you. Bucky deserves some time off, but he needs you safe. Balance. He was trying to figure that out.

You step out of class, taking a deep breath before looking around. Eyeing each and every vehicle. He wasn’t here. No Steve. He was supposed to be here. You stand still for a moment, your classmates meander around you. All of them turn to give you looks. They all know who it was that dropped you off.

They all knew the rumors about him. And the stupid man decides to bring you to campus, and drop you off like a child. There were some ways he embarrassed you that was fine, for an odd reason, walking you to the front door was not. You set off walking towards your apartment. It’s a trek, but you didn’t want to wait to be humiliated, and questions asked by the large tattooed drug lord that had attached himself to you.

You had just enough fight left in you to piss him off delightfully, and pissing him off was fun. But there was one thing that bothered you. Eventually you had to tell him, you just had to. He scared you, overwhelmed you, but damn if he didn’t make you feel good. Too good.

And then there was that moment, however fleeting it was, but it was there. A tiny sliver of care. It’s the only reason why you haven’t fully pushed back with it. It confused you because it — it made him feel human. It made him seem like he cared for more than just your innocence.

Hearing a rev up of a SUV makes you tense up. You have gotten used to that sound. The hairs on your body stand straight up, and chill bumps arise over your skin. Feeling his eyes on you, before you see him. You keep your head looking straight ahead, but see the vehicle in your peripheral vision.

The heat from the motor tingles your body, but you don’t look. Even when you hear the back window roll down, and can feel his icy stare on you, you don’t look. Sam slows the car enough to ride beside you, and your breath shudders.

“Dove,” you gulp, but still don’t look at him. You could feel his anger. You didn’t wait. You walked away from the school without him.

“Dovey,” there is an annoyed sweetness wrapped into his voice, but you keep your eyes in front of you. “Dove, you better stop walking, and get your fucking ass in this goddamn car now.”

You shake your head no. It was going to be bad, and you weren’t ready for it. “Get in the fucking car!”

“No,” there is no confidence in your meek response. It was shallow, and pitiful.

The SUV stops abruptly, and when Steve jumps out of the car, your pace picks up. Only to be met with his thick hands pulling you into his hard body. Dragging you to the car, his nose nuzzles up against your neck. Whispering into your ear with a deep rumbled timbre “If you want me to spank your ass, next time just ask. There’s no need for this fucking show, when you know who is going to win.”

“Steve, please.”

“Have I not taught you anything? Quit fucking whining,” he hauls you to the car, and all but throws you in. “Stop telling me, please. Please, what, Dovey?”

“You’re an asshole!” You scream loudly as Sam starts the car.

Steve angrily bites at his lip as he cracks his neck. His hand tenses on his knee. Trying to scoot further away from him has Steve reaching over to pull you even closer. “And why’s that, Dovey? What makes me the asshole?”

“You…what don’t you do that makes you not be an asshole?”

“Explain,” he growls out. Brows furrowing, and you look away. Doing so has him grabbing you by the jaw, forcing your face towards him. “And you better fucking look at me when you talk to me.”

“You…you won’t let me hang out with friends.”

“You don’t have any. You have a roommate. You two don’t even go out together.”

“Because I’m scared of you! You always…you’re just an asshole.”

He spreads your legs apart, laying his own leg on top to keep you spread. Placing his hand on his thigh, he slides up and under your skirt, and cups your covered core, “And you’re walking around in a skirt.”

“I’m wearing the panties you bought for me,” your voice is flat and without emotion.

“Yeah, I thought I told you, you are only a whore for me. Those stupid boys you’re in school with aren’t even good enough to lick your cum off my pants. All the while I see their eyes. I watched them. Looking you up and down. Looking at what is fucking mine. Wondering just how good of a cunt you have. Don’t worry, I’ll soon remedy that.”

“Steve, don’t threaten to kill someone that looks at me. They’re not…nobody’s looking,” Steve lets out a low growl, and you tremble beneath his touch. Hating the way that it makes even more slick pool in your core. “What…what do you think is yours?” You challenge. There is something a bit more freeing with being the only person to talk back to Steve.

“You know what’s mine, Dovey.”

“Tell me,” your eyes roll up to meet him, and you give him a little smirk. “Go on, Steven. Tell me what’s yours?”

He slides your panties to the side, shoving two fingers into your wet heat, laughing when you whimper. He lays his palm over your clit, watching as you start grinding on him. “That right there. You, and your hot little cunt between your legs belong to me.”

“You…no, it’s not.”

“You sure,” he lets your body gyrate on his fingers for a moment. Smiling when your juices gather in his palm. The sound of your pussy echoing in the small car. “Even your pussy knows what you’re trying to deny. Does it feel good, pretty girl? Do you like the way my fingers stretch you out?”

You shake your head no, but moan shortly after, “Yeah you do. You’re a fucking liar. Go on, Dovey. Make yourself come since you’re such a needy little bitch. I’m the big bad drug lord, but you, sweetheart, you’re a liar. Why are you lying when it’s so obvious how greedy your pussy is? She’s crying for me, Dovey. Just like you do every night.”

“I don’t — I don’t cry for you,” you deny as your body moves faster. Your pussy sucks his fingers in so deep, and you get a high knowing that you are getting better.

“Was it just last night that you moaned out my name while you fucked yourself with two measly fingers in your pussy? It’ll take more than that, baby. Whose fingers feel better?” You move in silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“You don’t have to tell me. Your cunt wasn’t as loud last night. You were being so sweet putting on a show for me. Whimpering out my name, thinking you were teasing me. At least when I was fucking my hand, I got to come. Had my cum dripping down my fingers, you stopped yourself. It’s almost like you know that you could never fill the void left by me. You’re so much wetter right now. Is it because it’s my thick fingers, instead of yours?”

“Uh uh,” Steve chuckles as your body starts writhing hard over him.

“There you go, Dovey,” you pant, nearing stopping, but he pulls your body down the seat. Your legs spread even further, and his hand starts fucking into you. Destroying you with his fingers alone. “You’re going to fucking come like a good girl,” he grunts pounding into you.

Your voice goes from moans to desperate sobs, and Steve can only look at your pussy clinging onto him. Adding a third finger just for measure, and you scream out his name. Keeping your legs wide, and you lift up to watch him drive into you. A pleasurable pain at what he was doing, and your legs tremble.

Shaking at the amount of complete bliss that you were in. Steve pulls his fingers out of you, letting your juices squirt into the floor, before shoving them back in. Repeating the process until your ass is soaked and so is the floor of the car, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Tell me, Dove,” he demands, slapping his whole hand on your bundle of nerves. You thrash around, but he doesn’t stop. “Fucking tell them all, that I own this cunt!”

You have no idea how even the slaps was making you leak all in the car. Wet and pouring sounds light up the car, and you can’t think. “Who owns your pussy, Dove?”

“Y-y-you do!” Your whole body quivers, and you’re unsure if you can come again.

“Say it. Say who owns this pussy.”

“Steve. Steve Rogers owns…he owns my pussy!” You come undone again, and he leans over to feast on his prize. Sucking on your lips, and slurping up every bit of the release he made. Pulling off you with a smirk before sucking his fingers clean.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Steve…why do you want to just own me?”

“Mmm,” he moans at your taste. Licking his lips, and wiping off his beard. “I don’t. I want to destroy you. Only so I can lift you back up, and wipe away those tears that I earned. I want to own you. I want that virgin cunt to be molded to my cock so bad that you whimper when you think of me not inside of you. I want to take care of you, and worship you. I want you down on your knees begging for me to fill you with my seed, and I will gladly listen over and over again. I won’t stop until your belly is swollen with me. And then, Dovey, I will truly own you. And I have no problem with wearing you down slowly. Is that what you wanted to hear, baby? How I desire nothing more to be as much of a menace to you as you are to me?”

“You want to test me every part of the way. You enjoy breaking my rules, because you love this torture I’m giving you. You enjoy the fight, don’t cha? You think I don’t notice your fucking games you’re playing with me. If you need to fight me to finger fuck you or tongue fuck you, I guess whatever makes you wet, Dovey.”

“I — no, that’s not…”

Steve twists his head to the side, giving you an evil sneer before his eyes dart to the seat and floor, “You did that, Dovey. You made a fucking mess in my car, and I have half a mind to make you clean it up with your filthy tongue. Your fucking game of refusing me made you that wet. Because you like when I get angry, and take from you.”

“You’ve never kissed me,” you whisper, head dipping down. “You just want me to bow down to you, and I never see what you want from me, but my body,” he reaches over, pulling you over on him. Letting your ass settle in his lap while you straddle him. Pulling you close to his chest. So close you feel his heart pounding. He’s nervous. His inky hands run up and down your thighs as you take staggered breaths.

“Steve,” you whimper when his nose rubs up your jawline. Whispering a breath over your ear before pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear, “That’s not the kissing I meant.”

“I know, Dovey,” the deep growl he releases sends sparks throughout your body as everything heats up from the electricity the two of you create. “I don’t just give a peck on the lips. I claim every part of you. You will never desire anyone else, but me.”

His lips trail down your neck, and back up. Teeth nipping at your jaw before his lips hover over yours. Staying still while that devil may care grin turns up his mouth, “Are you ready to submit fully? Once I kiss you, I’ll own more than just your body.”

“No,” weak. You are a liar. Your voice couldn’t even lie for you.

Opening his hand, he slides it all the way up your body before his fingers that smell of you, tickle your neck. Flattening out his hand, he wraps his fingers around the sensitive column, and gently pushes you away, “Try again, Dove.”

“I’m not begging.”

“And that’s not what I asked. Are you ready to fully submit? You’re already…”

“Yes,” you squeak, nodding your head, “I’m ready to submit,” hand still around your neck, he crashes his mouth against yours. Immediately his tongue pushes past your lips, demanding entrance, and you grant it to him. Moaning, and starting to grind on his lap, his free hand squeezes your thigh, holding you still.

It was too good. Your body is reacting, but he needs you motionless as he dominates your mouth. Giving your tongue a suck as he slides off. His teeth grab onto your lip, and he adds enough pressure to cause some yummy discomfort as he slides off your lips, “Little bird, you’re too easy. One kiss had you a needy bitch in heat. What am I going to do with you?”

“Fuck me.”

“No,” you stare at him aghast. That wasn’t what you were expecting. “You didn’t realize we’ve been sitting in front of your apartment complex. You need to go home.”

“Fuck me!” You bite your lip as tears spring to your eyes. You asked, well demanded.

“No. You’re not begging, and I’m not rewarding your bad behavior. You really wouldn’t want me to for your first time. Go home, Dove.”

“Steve, fuck me, please?” Your lip trembles, but he shakes his head no.

“I have work to do. Go home,” opening up his door, the girl down the hall stares at you straddling him, and his hand still around your neck. “Clean yourself up. And change panties. They’re a filthy mess,” his laugh is sadistic as he releases your neck. Letting you awkwardly try to get off him.

Your legs still wobbly, and head dizzy with confusion, you stare at him. You hate him, and still crave him. “I won’t see you walking from school alone, again, Dove. Bad girls get punished. Good girls get fucked,” he closes the door in your face, but the car doesn’t leave until Steve sees you in your bedroom window, and you pull the curtains closed on him.

It was a beautiful day, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want him to see you live in person. He can watch his stupid little cameras. There were enough of them that he could see every angle, but you didn’t care. Fuck him.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose as he listens to some dealer groan about where his money was. They always thought they could get one over on Steve. “What the fuck?” He grits his teeth as he looks up at him. “Natasha, please make sure our guest gets what he deserves.”

She stands up from the shadows, walking over and ignoring his pleas. Raising her gun, she puts a bullet in his forehead, “Goddammit, Nat! Now who the fuck is going to clean this up?” She shrugs her shoulders and walks off. Never caring about the mini tantrum he pitches.

The couch was now tainted. He had visions of having you lean over the back while he railed into. “Get rid of it,” he commands to whoever was in the room.

“The man or the couch?” A particularly small newbie asks. He was learning, but had no sense of making an executive decision.

“Both of them,” Steve walks towards his office, looking at Bucky before entering. He needed a distraction. And the most perfect thing to distract him was you playing coy in your bedroom. Walking around in nothing but panties, playing with yourself, taking pictures that you never send him, “What she doing?”

“Still sleeping,” he gives him a nod while Steve looks at the monitors in his office. He trusted Bucky to back off of you for a bit. Still had him take you to school, and pick you up. But Bucky was right. He didn’t need to stand outside your apartment all night. There were cameras everywhere. No one could get in without them knowing about it.

His eyes dart around your body for a bit, “Why is her head covered?” Bucky shrugs his shoulders, and yawns. Leaning back into his chair. “Why is she not breathing?”

“What?”

“Fucking decoy,” his fist slams down on the desk. You never slept with your head covered, and you most certainly breathed. And yet there was a lifeless body on the bed. Oldest trick in the book, and Bucky fell for it. “Find her now! Bucky, I swear if something happened to her, I’ll have your other fucking arm!”

“Calm down.”

“No! She’s not in her fucking bed!”

“And I had to take a fucking piss. She…” he stops his train of thought, and pulls out his phone. “I know where she’s at. There’s a field party at Lakems old barn.”

“If…if someone touches her,” he scowls at his friend as he stomps out of his office. Fraternity parties at Lakems barn were notorious for random hookups. He’d have any man that looked or touched you ripped of their dicks.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll make me choke on my own dick. I got, your highness.”

Steve’s eyes zero in on you immediately and he growls. “I’m gonna kill her,” he slings his door open, walking straight towards you. Booze and horny fraternity boys are all around. You dance around giddily with a damn solo cup in your hands. Teeth stained a bit purple from whatever you are drinking.

He’d murder them all. They didn’t care. You stumble too close to the bonfire dropping your cup in the flames, and it angrily ignites more from the alcohol. And they just eye you up and down. Waiting on you to become too inebriated before they took what was his.

Grabbing your wrist, he slams you into his body, “Hey, Steven,” you giggle, puckering your lips for a kiss, but he hauls you into his arms instead. “Aw, you won’t kiss me, daddy. Won’t even fuck me, but he acts like my pussy is all his. Thinks he’ll be the first person to use my untouched cunt.”

His grip tightens on your body, and he growls, sending slick straight to your core. “Mmm, I like that, sir. You gonna fuck me in front of these people that aren’t my friends. That guy right there tried to take me deeper in the woods.”

“Hey, man,” he holds his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t know she was your girl. I don’t want,” you giggle when his words are cut off due to Steve punching him hard in the face. The boy stumbles back, and grabs onto his nose, and you continue to giggle.

“Ooh, that makes me so wet, daddy,” he rolls his eyes, that rumbling in his stomach making you so giddy. If you were in your right mind, you wouldn’t be saying as such, and you would know he was holding back.

“Can’t even have fun. Daddy wants me all to himself. Big bad…”

“Little bird, you’re pushing my patience,” he pushes past the overly drunk college students, wishing you’d just shut your fucking mouth for two seconds. “Keep running your mouth, baby, I’ve got something for it.”

“It’s that big fat cock, huh? You gonna fuck my face, daddy?” Oh he was about to destroy you. Every little slurred word coming out of your mouth was just making him more pissed off. It was making him want to steal your breath away by shoving his cock down your throat.

“You gonna give it to me? Gonna finally fuck my virgin cunt? I want it, daddy. I want you to fuck me in front of everybody so they realize who owns this tight pussy,” your hands try and tug down your shirt, but Steve grabs your wrist. “Only Bucky and Sam get to see my holes? Did Bucky enjoy looking at what’s yours? You gonna make him watch your cum drip out of my swollen cunt.”

“Shut the fuck up!” He screams as he climbs into the car with you. “Go, Sam,” you snarl your mouth at him when he sits you in the car.

“What? What is it, little bird? Are you trying to embarrass me? Didn’t work. You were embarrassing yourself.”

“You are such an asshol, Steve Rogers!” Your hand slaps the seat in between you. He put you as far away as he could. No longer frustrated, but now completely pissed off. “I hate you!”

“Why’s that, cutie? You were just bragging to the whole goddamn field how you wanted me to fuck you. Why do you hate me?”

“Because!” Steve cocks up his brow, smiling at your pouting. “You…you pull me away from my friends, and…ahh!” Grabbing your leg, he pulls you to lay flat in the seat lifting up your skirt, and those fiery eyes turn to look at you. “You like what you see? You didn’t buy these.”

“You want to know why I hate you?” He asks, his hand rubs up and down the sheer silky material that is drenched. The black gusset barely covering your cunt, and just string in your ass. With a skirt.

“Why? Because I refuse to beg for you? You treat me like a cocksleeve, and yet you won’t fuck me,” you wince as the slap on your pussy reverberates off the car. “Teasing me nonstop,” another slap. “Controlling everything I do, but can’t finish the fucking job!” A hard slap on your pussy, and he shuffles to lay over your body. Lowering his weight onto you.

Rolling his hips onto your center, and your legs spread fully to accommodate his hips. His large hand covers your mouth, but he never stops grinding into you. “I hate you because here you are walking around in a skirt and barely there panties. I have told you that you’re only a whore for me. After I fuck you stupid, I’ll buy you all kinds of trashy lingerie for me to see.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you grip onto his back. Unable to hear what he says with his ministrations. “Who were you hoping would see your sweet little cunt, Dovey? Who were you trying to be a whore for? Because I wasn’t there. Who?”

Steve moves his hand off your mouth, stopping his movements when you just mewl up at him. “Steve, I want to come.”

“Answer me.”

“I’m your whore! I’m Steve Rogers whore! Just fuck me!” He shakes his head no, starting to grind over your core again. His stomach is getting coated in your juices. “Fuck me! I’m begging! Steve, fuck me, sir! Fuck me! Claim me. Cum in my pussy!”

“No,” he deadpans, and your hands slide to his waist, attempting to undo his pants.

“I want to come! Steve, Please!”

“Aw, is this what this is? Did my sweet little bird get her some liquid courage, and now she wants to act like some bad ass bitch that wants to be fucked good and hard?” You nod your head rapidly, getting his button undone, and trying to jerk his pants down. “She let her walls down, and can’t lie anymore, and thinks she’s going to take my cock fully. Let Sam hear you cry as I cram myself so hard into you, that it makes you see stars. Licking the tears off your face as I take whatever the fuck I want from you?”

“Yes! Yes, please, Steve. Please, I'll be a good girl. Just fuck me! Fuck me!” He shakes his head again, and you can’t contain the tears that drift down your cheeks. “Steve! All you do is talk. Fuck me!”

“I said no, dammit!” Sitting up off you, he shimmies out of his pants and underwear, and his giant dick stands up in wait. “Take your fucking clothes off,” you shake your head no, but Steve starts ripping and pulling at everything he can get his hands on. Shredding at your clothes until you're trembling in the seat naked.

“Are you going to stick it in?”

“Yeah, in your dirty cock sucking mouth. Get on your knees, and let me fuck your face. You want to use that dirty mouth so much, have at it.”

You sit silently in the car, looking at the discarded mess of what was your clothes, and there wasn’t enough to cover you up. Vulnerable and shivering, and it had nothing to do with temperature. His long arm reaches over to you, and pinches a nipple. Pulling on you hard until you're on your knees. His cock stares at you, mocking just how inexperienced you were.

“Swallow me.”

“Steve…I’ve never…”

“No shit. This is your cock. Let me fuck your face. Wrap that pretty hand around the base. Go on,” anxiously you move your hand to him before he grabs you, forcing you to hold his cock in your hands.

It feels like steel covered in silky skin. His blood pumps so deeply in his veins, it makes you moan. Your fingers couldn’t even fully wrap around his girth, and you become terrified of Clarence. Heat radiates onto your hand, and you twist your neck to look up at him.

“Oh, this is a good angle, baby. Open your mouth. Come on, you can do,” he mocks, tapping his finger on your lips. “There’s a good girl. Got all quiet now, huh? Stick out your tongue, and taste me.”

Turning back to face his one eyed demon, you look at the beads of milky precum that drips down the spongy tip, “Dove, please,” he does a tiny thrust up to your mouth, close enough you smell him. “Dovey,” weakness. You hear it laced in his voice.

Nervously you give his tip a chaste kiss, and he whimpers. Hips bucking up into you, and the mushroom head opens your mouth, and you moan. Leaning down further you lick a stripe up his head, and swirl your tongue around him. Your mouth bursting with his musky essence, and you crave more.

“Baby, please,” you gulp before you open up wide, and sink down over his shaft. Closing your mouth around him, you suck hard as you pull off him. Taking him out with a pop, you turn back to look at him with a smile.

“You like that?” Little minx. Had you not been tipsy, you would have never challenged him.

“Yeah, keep going,” your ass wiggles around, and you repeat that process, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good,” he moans when you start bobbing your head over him. Your arousal leaks onto your thighs as you start moaning over him. The vibrations making his head lean back on the seat.

“Good girl. Such a good girl,” his voice airy as you sink fully over him. His tip touches the back of your throat and you gag. Tears spring to your eyes, but you want more. “Hollow your cheeks, Dovey. Let me fuck you. Just relax, sweetheart.”

Steve’s hand smooths down your back, and swoops under your ass. Coming back up before he plays with your empty and begging pussy. “Oh, Dovey, does my cock make you this wet?”

“Mhmm.”

He slips three fingers inside of you, and you open up wide. Taking him about halfway. He thrusts up into you, while his fingers drive into your greedy cunt. Completely full of Steve as you let him have you. Every bit of you. Drool pools on his lap, and start appear in your vision. The fact that this was taking place in a car, and under Sam’s watchful eye makes it so much more alluring.

You let yourself fully sink into his depravity. He could have it. He could take what he wanted if it felt this good. Both sensations make you a sobbing mess. His moans are as loud as your wails. Neither of you care about the struggle to breathe. Barely notice how your lungs are screaming for some relief. This was glorious. It was heaven. It was Steve.

Backing your body up on him harder, he gives you one more finger to take. His whole hand is nearly inside of you, while he forces every inch of his cock into your mouth. Holding you down on it, while your lungs cry for air. Filling your throat with his salty cum.

He moves his hand off the back of your head, and you move your mouth off him. Sucking off every morsel of his cream before sitting up to smile at him. Mascara tears stain your cheeks, and your lips are swollen from his driving pelvis, and still you have a pretty dopey smile on your face. Nipples hard, and ready to be sucked while his fingers are drenched in you.

“Did I do good?”

“Of course, Dovey. Is that what you need? To be told how good you’re taking me?”

“Mhmm,” your heart swells with the praise, and you have a deep need to please him again.

“It was the best,” he moans, giving his thigh a tap. “C’mere. Let me look at you,” biting at your lip, you throw a leg over him, and he pulls you just so his softening cock feels your weeping cunt. “You sure are a pretty little thing, Dovey,” he moans, pinching your nipples.

“But if I ever catch you drunk with a bunch of trash again, I’ll make sure to spank your ass in front of them. That is the one and only time you get to see me stay calm. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Will you fuck me now?” You need him. Wanted him. And you were right there.

“No, sweetheart,” even though you pout at him, he still shakes his head, “I’m not taking your cherry when you're drunk on…what were you drinking?”

“Blueberry cider.”

“Seriously? I’m going to have you throwing up later, huh? Here, let me give you my shirt, so I can walk you in,” he pulls off his shirt, and your dainty fingers trace his chest tattoos. Smiling when he shivers. You want to know every story to each one. Where every scar came from. You need to know him.

“Will you stay with me tonight? Please?” Your face is a wreck. Dribble of his cum dries around your mouth, and you look so pitiful, but more beautiful than he’s ever seen you.

“That was the plan, little bird. My god, your nipples are a work of art, pushing through my shirt. And Dovey, don’t ask me to fuck you for the first time when your drunk. I want you to remember each moment. I want you to know that I made my cock fit inside you. Open your mouth,” you gulp, looking up at him confused. “Why do you always do this? Just open. Please.”

Your mouth stretches open, and he spits into your mouth, “Swallow,” you listen. You didn’t argue. You did it. “Who owns you?”

“You do. Steve Rogers owns me.”

“And I’ll always take care of you. Even if you throw up blueberry cider. Only get drunk with me though, okay?” You whisper out okay, and he grabs you by the cheeks. “And never ever call me daddy again.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloki @thestralwriting @ambearsstuff @softherveauxs @kandis-mom

#your mark on me #mean!steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fic #dark #dark!fic #soft!dark!

[biteofcherry]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Steve + “Are you trying to hide from me?”

Thank you for sending the Hoe Fairy my way, through all the trials and dangers of time zones 😆💖

Grateful for it, I wrote something slightly longer than a drabble? Oops.

I'm creating a new dark-ish universe here, so brace yourselves.

New World Order

soft dark!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: After the snap and the breaking of the Avengers the world has turned into a darker place than it already was. Being under Steve Rogers protection should be your beacon of light, right? So why does it sometimes feel as if you're caught in a sticky web?

warnings: semi dystopian universe; soft dark Steve Rogers; manipulation; sprinkle of gaslighting; economical/situational power imbalance; dub-con; smidge of breeding kink; sex (p in v);

word count: 3k

Main Masterlist

A small creak startled you. Your body tensed and jerked, the jars in your arms almost falling to the floor. You held your breath, tightening your hold on the precious cargo.

The sound came from the other room, the one anyone from the compound could’ve walked into, so it shouldn’t scare you. Not when you made sure to cover any tracks leading to this special, secret unit, which you’ve discovered a few days ago. 

Slowly, careful not to make any sound that might alert whoever was roaming out there, you put the jars down on the shelf. One by one. Gently. You kept your breath shallow as you did, keeping your movements to the minimal. Then you stayed still, counting down seconds in your head and listening for any sounds from outside. 

As one minute passed into another, then another, until it was seven minutes, then eight, you began to relax slightly. 

No further sounds, steps, nor voices came. You assumed they were gone, whoever it’s been. 

With a little huff of breath, you turned around. The nose of your boot bumped into the box of supplies you sneaked inside. It made little to no noise, but it was enough for the domino to fall down completely.

Something clanked on the other side of the wall. Then the hidden passage in the wall opened. 

Bright daylight filtered through and the broad, dark silhouette filled nearly the entirety of the doorway. 

You lifted your hand to shield your eyes from the sudden burst of light, letting out a small squeak as you curled inwardly. It took you a mere second to recognize who caught you and while your heart eased at the realisation, there was still a part of you that feared the outcome.

“I was wondering what kind of mouse has been hiding in the walls,” came his soft, deep voice. “Turns out it’s my own little scrapper.” 

Captain Rogers walked in. Despite wearing heavy boots he still managed to move quietly. 

The wall closed automatically after him, leaving the two of you in a small room with light fixtures casting pleasant, but artificial glow from the ceiling. 

“Are you trying to hide from me?” His lips curled in a lopsided smile, but the way he slightly tilted his head made you aware that he wouldn’t like it, if you said yes. 

“Of course not,” you let out a nervous laugh, gripping the edge of the counter behind you. 

“Not from you, Steve.” Nervousness still buzzed inside you, spiking as he neared closer and closer. 

Steve Rogers, Captain America, could be a scary motherfucker, if he wanted to. Usually, however, it was reserved for anyone trying to harm people he protected. Or if his subordinates broke his rules in any way. 

He may not be the golden boy you remembered from the very few, rare press conferences and pap photos from a decade before. Too much has happened, since he was the poster of glorified values the government tried to sell. 

First, they stripped him of the crystal areola they put themselves on him. Named him a fugitive and a traitor, for wanting to protect his best friend and fight for justice. 

His other colleagues have turned away from him, leading to breaking of the Avengers formation, which was supposed to protect the people.

Then, when the ultimate threat appeared, the remaining politicians blamed Steve and the other heroes for being unable to defeat Thanos. Tony Stark never returned. So many others have dispersed into dust. For a few years - as the world around you spiralled into dystopian nightmare - phantom governments have been using Captain America and other Avengers as the arguments for why so many things were failing.

Living became hard. Well, even harder than it used to be. People turned jaded and distrustful, so very few still tried to show each other support. Unable to count on governmental help, people have started forming their own little groups. Little communities that took care of each other, but were very wary of anyone else. 

You met Steve when you shyly walked into one of the support groups he was leading. You’ve seen posters inviting people to the meetings, but for quite a long time you stayed away from them, because Captain America or not, these groups always meant selling your soul in some way. 

Steve lured you in with his patience and soft voice, but was firm in pointing out that if you’d like to take some of the provisions back home, or needed aid, you had to do some labour in return. 

You weren’t opposed to that, but you were wary. Still, you agreed. 

Each task seemed more and more important, or that’s what you told yourself, because with each you’ve somehow gotten to work closer and closer to the Captain himself. 

You worked dutifully, which was something Steve didn’t omit to praise you for on a few occasions. Which perhaps was the reason why he assigned you to a team that so often worked closely with him. 

As much as it filled your chest with warmth, your gut tightened each time he got a little closer.

And he always got closer. 

You always sensed his gaze on you. Felt your heart jumping whenever he grazed his fingers along your arm, in a seemingly innocent, sweet gesture. But there was something about his attention, about Steve himself, that made you feel uneasy.

He was charismatic, but also less lenient. 

Caring, but didn’t give second chances. 

Patient, but often merciless in his decisions. 

He was still Captain America, but bitter and darker. Worn-out and dirty, like his suit, with the trace of a star that used to shine hope to those who saw it. Now that faith trailed with darkness. 

When Steve approached you one evening, as your team was scavenging the territory the Captain and his Avengers have liberated from under the influence of bloodthirsty gangs, you felt that quickened pulse and whispers of self-preservation instinct telling you to be wary.

He said that he noticed you watching him. Which rendered you speechless for a moment. If anything, you always caught him looking your way. 

Did he really think you were the one checking him out? Was it why your gazes met every time?

You stuttered with your response, not quite knowing how to explain yourself. Steve offered you that disarming, comforting smile. He touched your hand. Slipped his fingers between yours, ever so slowly rubbing the pad of his index finger between two of yours. 

Such a small, meaningless gesture, but something about it had your cunt clenching in response, as if he was insinuating he wanted to rub you somewhere else. 

Before you managed to explain the situation, Steve turned the tables on you once again. He leaned in and confessed that he missed intimate touch, as well. That it was understandable and he felt honoured you would give him your attention.

Then he simply walked away, joining Natasha to make further decisions regarding the operation; leaving you dizzy with confusion and conflicting emotions. 

Was he right? Were you subconsciously seeking out his attention? Was your sense of unease in his proximity provoked by your attraction to him?

Because Steve Rogers was a very handsome man. From the soft strands of hair he had grown a little longer, to the way his broad chest tapered into narrow hips and possibly the sexiest ass you’ve ever seen. 

From that moment, the Captain often approached you, smiled at you, and touched you however briefly. The pounding of your heart increased each time, your thoughts still clouded. 

When he caressed your cheek one time, while having just returned all dirtied and splattered with blood from a mission abroad, your breath stuttered. He asked you to help him out with patching some bruises and you didn’t find the strength in you to deny a request from a wounded man. Captain America at that. 

He took you to his quarters. At Steve’s command, the AI closed the door after you. Your fingers trembled as Steve guided you how to unzip and take off his suit (since his shoulder throbbed so hard, he seemingly couldn’t do it himself). 

Steve’s fair skin was indeed marred with bruises and a few cuts, which you cleaned and patched. In response to your breathless “I better leave” after you were done, Steve slid his big hands onto your hips and softly asked you to stay. 

Perhaps it’s been too long since you kissed anyone. Or maybe his grip on you tightened enough for the fear of repercussions freezing you in place. 

With a tiny whimper, you gave in to his demanding lips and wandering hands. Despite your brain screaming at you to run away, your heart rate accelerated with pleasure, quickly drowning out the fear.

Steve had you sinking down on his thick cock right there, while he still sat in the chair and his suit was barely pushed past his hips. He groaned praises at how good you felt; how hot it was to feel your tight cunt stretching around him; how sexy you sounded struggling to take it all.

Even with some of your brain cells fighting against it, your whole body surrendered to Steve and the pleasure he drew out of you over and over again. 

Maybe he was right all along and you were starved for intimate contact. 

Maybe you were choosing to let him take you, so he wouldn’t hurt you or your family in any way. 

Later, as you laid in Steve’s arms, you debated with yourself how good it felt to be held and protected, and that maybe it was worth following Steve’s subtle commands. 

He took you again in the morning. On your side, sliding into your sore pusy from behind. When you hissed that it hurt, Steve slowed down, but didn’t stop. He distracted you by arousing other parts of your body - rolling and pinching your nipples, sliding his fingers between your lips and fucking your moth with them, using his wet digits to rub your clit. 

Both of you returned to your duties afterwards, but in the evening Steve simply wrapped an arm around you and greeted you with a kiss on your temple. Then guided you back to his quarters.

He talked to you about everything, asked about your past, as well simply about your day. 

But not once did he ask, if you wanted to have sex with him. 

As the days passed, the less brave and determined you were to reject him. Especially not after Steve started coming over to your quarters, to meet your parents and play this whole thing, as if you really were a couple.

So if he was this sweet and supportive, why did you still fear displeasing him in any way? 

“I mean I’m not hiding at all.” Your speech quickened slightly, as you explained your actions. “I may have hoped no one would find this spot that quickly. I would tell you about it, I was going to. But first I needed to, um, I wanted to-”

“Easy, honey.” Steve cupped your cheek.

He ran his thumb along your lip, cooing at you softly. 

He didn’t look angry, nor suspicious. Which lessened your worries. 

“So you found one of Tony’s panic rooms.” Steve took a quick look around. “Not many people know about their existence. Not many can find them.”

“It was actually an accident,” you laughed at that, remembering how you stumbled when changing light bulbs in a weird fixture in the main lounge room and instead of breaking the mirror on the wall the pressure of your fall activated sensor in the wall, opening the passage to this room. 

You told Steve the story, watching mirth form crinkles around his eyes. He kissed your forehead softly, before pulling away. Not enough to leave much space between your bodies. 

“And why are you storing provisions here?” He glanced at the jars and cans you stacked on the few shelves. 

“Just in case. We have a storage and everything is rationed generously, but-” your gaze dropped as you mumbled- “somemayhavebeenstolen.”

“What was that?” Steve’s tone chilled and you felt the hair on your nape standing to attention. 

With two fingers, he tilted your chin up. Blue eyes bore into yours, a Captain’s command in them snapped you into obedience without an order falling from his lips. 

“I think I’ve noticed someone sneaking out some portions. Often.” You admitted. “I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t suffer much loss, in case that person continued to steal.”

“Why haven’t you reported it?” Steve frowned, his hold on your chin turning into an unpleasant pinch. 

“Because the person I should report to first, is the one who takes it.” You also tried to convince yourself that maybe Walker simply was giving it away to someone in need. 

“You could’ve told me.” Steve pointed out, his frown deepening in displeasure. 

“But you always talk about the importance of chain of command,” you blurted out.

Which actually surprised Steve. His eyebrows arched up and then his disapproval was shifting into amused satisfaction once again.

“You’re so dutiful, honey.” Steve’s grin made you gulp nervously. 

His gaze slowly trailed down. When it returned to your face there was a possessive glint in the blue irises. A hot jolt stroke down your spine, pooling in your lower belly with heat in preparation for what was to come.

Because even if your lips wanted to part on a pitiful No, you knew Steve would take anyway. And he’d make sure your body was on board with his desires. 

“Why don’t you continue your impeccable service for your Captain, huh?” Steve dragged the zipper of your jacket down. 

It was butter soft brown leather; once belonging to Steve, but since it was too big on you, he graciously encouraged you to cut and sew it, so it fit you better. 

Steve parted the sides of the jacket, exposing your chest. One move was enough to yank down the stretchy top you had underneath. Your breasts spilled out and you clenched your fingers on the edge of the counter, forcing yourself not to cover yourself, even though you felt shy. 

Steve cupped your breasts with his hands; squeezed them and kneaded gently. The coarse fabric of his fingerless gloves provided additional sensation. He rolled one nipple under his thumb; pinched the other. His mouth swallowed each little moan of yours. 

He drew out a whine out of you as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, at the same time unzipping your jeans. Steve knelt down to take off one of your shoes and pull your leg free from the pant leg. Enough to have you spread for him as wide as he wanted. 

“Umm-” you swallowed hard as Steve stretched to his full height. 

He was so much bigger than you. So much stronger. Sometimes, when he had you in his arms, it truly made you feel safe. Other times it scared you; made you quickly comply. 

Steve picked you up so easily, sitting you on the narrow counter and standing between your legs. 

“I don’t have any more pills,” you revealed. “Contraceptives, I mean. Bruce said it will take a few weeks for the production to be finished, after that one ingredient turned out to be spoiled.”

Steve met your eyes. He listened to what you were saying, nodding his head intently as you spoke, but still unzipped his suit and freed his cock. 

You couldn’t help it, your gaze flicked down. Seeing it almost daily didn’t diminish the awe of the cock a primal part of your brain declared perfect. Your pussy clenched, growing wetter in preparation for what was inevitable. 

Steve’s hand closed around his girth and he gave a few pumps before guiding the angry-red tip into your hole. 

He slid inside with a groan. Your own choked cry responding. 

When he met slight resistance due to your position, Steve hooked his arms beneath your knees and pulled your legs upwards. Your ass tilted and your upper body angled backwards. It allowed him to sink fully in, until you felt that unpleasant pressure against your cervix and his balls met your buttocks. 

Then, as he bottomed out in your unprotected pussy, Steve regarded your words.

“Slight inconvenience. But we’re skilled in adjusting to new situations and challenges.” He rested his forehead against yours; his voice growing more raspy and breathless. “If fate wants us to have a child, then we will rise to that blessing as well.” 

He rocked his hips into you, his pelvis grazing your clit. You squeaked, bracing your hands on Steve’s shoulders. 

“Fuck, honey.” Steve withdrew a few inches then slowly thrust back in. “Your sweet cunt is so tight and wet for me.” 

It was tight, because he hadn’t prepared you thoroughly - sometimes it was a blessing, because there were other times when Steve was so focused on making you soaked that he turned you into an overstimulated mess. 

Also because his dick was so fucking thick. 

“My perfect pussy. Isn’t it?” Each stroke was a purposeful, unrushed torment, so that you felt those inches penetrating you. Owning you. 

“Y-yes, Steve. It’s yours,” you mewled when he poked your cervix again. 

“It was made to be filled, honey.” Steve’s pace started increasing. “Its purpose is to take my cock and milk every last drop of my cum, until your womb swells with it.”

There were protesting voices in your head, demanding that you shake your head no and that you tell him you didn’t want to get pregnant. But they never made it past the barrier of voices supplying that you always dreamed of having a family and that Steve would take good care of you. 

Even if the objections somehow made it onto your tongue, the moans and cries Steve was eliciting with each thrust and filthy word deformed them into agreement. 

“That’s it, honey. Taking your Captain so well. Going to take all my cum and thank me for it.”

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x female reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers imagine #soft dark!Steve Rogers #soft dark!Steve Rogers x reader #soft dark!Steve Rogers x female reader #dark avengers #Siri #stargazingfangirl18

[timidpumpkin]

Little Light (Stucky x reader)

Part 4: Retribution

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: While you're left feeling hopelessly confused, it's clear to Steve and Bucky that you have a lot to learn about being their good little girl.

Warnings for this part: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Forced age regression, DDLG themes, Female reader, Manipulation, Violence against reader, Being tied up, Hints to sexual themes, This one's dark folks, Mean Steve and Bucky, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

As always, lemme know if I missed any!!

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has supported me since I posted Part 1 many many months ago. I love you all and appreciate your support and kind words more than I can express. I'm super nervous to post this one so i'm really hoping everyone likes it. ^.^

Tagging: @ppatricia34me @canyonmooncreations @haleyhunwritess

(lemme know if you wanna be added to my taglist!)

P.S. Please feel free to comment/ask questions as they are a million times appreciated as I ALWAYS love to read you guy's thoughts!

(pictures are not my own)

Warm. 

The cozy temperature surrounding you beckons you to sink further into its comfortable drowsy feeling. It feels nice–good. It’s comfortable as you pull at the blanket wrapped around you to cover the cold tip of your nose. 

When you do though, adjusting as you move, adrenaline rushes through you. 

All sense of tranquility leaps out of your body to be replaced by standing hairs and cold blood as you realize you’re not napping in your bed. 

No–you’re napping on your capture’s lap. 

Hazy memories from just a bit ago replay in your mind. The picture they paint is fogged up by an overcast of intense emotion. 

Worry. Fear. Shock.

The panic you felt is now an almost disembodied ghost, content with hiding in the closet as it knows you can’t handle its presence anymore. 

Not right now. 

It would be too much. Your body and mind having already fought till every single cell within you is doused with exhaustion. 

The wispy wave of relief you felt–feel–now molds into another feeling. It rips the comfort your body so desperately clings to at this moment of peril and unkindly reminds you that you shouldn’t have let your guard down. 

But you did. 

You–as you see it–involuntarily allowed the very person, no, the very people who have snatched you, took you from your, albeit, unexcitingly ordinary–but otherwise stable–life, to soothe the very predicament they have forced you in.

As you recall their hushed voices anchoring you, steady hands smoothing your trembling ones, and sweet comfort that you somehow found in their pacifying of you, the one emotion you painfully feel now is…embarrassment. It aligns with disgrace you feel within yourself for giving into…this. 

You stiffen, body frozen in place as you become acutely aware of your situation again. Both the larger reality of being held hostage, and the other–ever so slightly smaller issue–that currently places your head nestled right in your captor’s lap. Bucky’s lap.

This is what you found so comforting in your sleep state? 

Head wedged exactly between his legs, resting heavily against his lower half. Your hands curled up. You stare at them. They lay right in front of your view. Almost too close to your vision where you watch them resting, palms nestled down between his thighs.

But it’s not just your position. It’s his too. One of his arms is resting against you, draped over your side, his hand sprawled just at your navel, adding to the welcoming warmth you felt upon waking up. The other, languidly stroking your head with his thumb. 

It’s an intimate position–close–in more ways than one. It’s not one you should be in, it’s not one you’re in voluntarily–despite what your last memories torturously remind you.

“You get enough sleep there, princess?” Bucky’s voice calls. You haven’t spoken a word but he must be able to tell you’re awake. Whether it’s from how your muscles have tensed, or the way you’ve been holding your breath since, is unknown to you.

You can’t see him. Your eyes are too intensely focused on how your hands rest with faux intimacy at his thighs and the realization of how long you’ve been in this position makes your lungs feel as if they don’t work anymore.

“You really scared Dada you know,” he moves his hand from your navel to caress your arm as he lends forward a bit to get a better view of your face. Still, frozen in place, you don't meet his gaze. Your self-preservation response only knows how to freeze now as you don’t move, but keep looking forward, completely unsure of how to tackle the situation you’re in. 

Waves of memory come back to you. It’s blurry as you remember how scared you were. You remember how Steve calmed you. How his voice led you to placidity. How could that be? It’s what led you to the position you're in now.

Vulnerable. Again. And yet, you let it happen. 

But you didn’t, no–you couldn’t–you don't remember exactly with anxiety fogging up your memory. 

You knew one thing for sure; you couldn’t give in. 

“Not going to ignore Daddy now, are you?” Bucky questions, taking his hand to your chin and facing it upwards so you’re looking up to him. Somehow, it’s still shocking how large he looks. You feel as though you've somehow been shrunk down a third of your size when looking at him. His hand is mostly just ghosting your face, guiding it up as he looms over you, one cheek smooshed against his navel now as his hand remains on the other.

“Hmm?” he questions, his pointer finger tapping methodically on your cheek, prompting you to answer. “Don’t tell me you forgot your manners already now, doll.”

“I-I wanna go home,” You try to sit up, not exactly sure why you said that, as recent events have told you already it’s not what he wants to hear. But you’re just not sure about anything at the moment. He looks at you with a displeased look, face dropping into an unkind frown.

His hold on you tightens; his forearm presses down on your chest lightly, silently reminding you that trying to move would be a bad idea. You don’t fight it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to succeed in getting up even if your life depended on it.

“You are home.” he declares curtly, before swiftly picking you up, dizzying you as he turns you around. You feel as though you’ve barely blinked before you’re in the new position. Your back is to his stomach as he situates you on his lap. His right arm wraps snugly around your waist, firmly securing you against his body. His left hand reaches in front and clasps around your cheeks, the cool metal instantly raising goosebumps on your once warm face as he slowly tilts your head back and forth for you, forcing you to look around the room. 

“You see all this?” he lilts with a scolding undertone. “This is your home. All of it.” he pauses before–somehow–squeezing you closer to him. He brings his head to the side of your ear. His chest flush against your back, engulfing your body, and encapsulating your very being with how he maintains his grip on your face. His breath dances lightly against your ear as he speaks, adding to the chilling feeling overtaking your insides.

“Now what would you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little baby?” He speaks in a low, hushed tone. Not a sweet one–like the hushed subdued one Steve used on you just hours ago–No, Bucky’s tone is polar to that. It’s mocking, and sardonic as you can almost feel the smirk gracing his face without even looking at him. It’s as if he’s asking the most rhetorical question known to man. “Hmm?” 

You feel your own breathing pick up. It becomes evident with how every millimeter your chest moves, your lungs have to fight against the pressure of Bucky’s heavy arms around you. Your mind is blank as fright starts to fill it instead. How were you supposed to answer that? 

When you take too long to respond, Bucky promptly pinches at your side and simultaneously squeezes your cheeks harder, causing a retaliatory yelp out of you. 

“Ah! I-I don’t know!” you squirm around at the pain that certainly doesn’t help you think. 

He promptly covers your mouth with a shush, his sizable metallic hand swallowing up your face as you squeak dully now into his solid palm. 

“No yelling now, doll.” He turns your face towards him so he can look at you as he speaks. He glances quickly at the closed bedroom door before looking back at you. “Answer Daddy’s question.” He directs, “I know you’re a smart girl.” he grins at you, and though–in most contexts–that would sound like a compliment, his tone is decidedly condescending as he continues. “But I’ll repeat my question, just in case my silly little girl forgot.” he smiles snidely at you for a brief moment before continuing. “What do you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little girl?” He says the question more slowly this time, eerily calm but just as patronizing as he goes.

You stare at him with wide eyes as he carefully removes his hand from your mouth. He doesn’t have to speak the words as his eyes alone tell you not to yell again. His fingers remain on your face, retaking their previous position of gripping your chin as he looks at you expectantly.

“...home…” you breathe meekly, voice almost cracking as you do, hoping that was the right answer. 

“Good girl,” he roughly pats at your cheek with a slightly more authentic smile. “that’s exactly right.” he praises. You then hear some movement coming from the bedroom. Bucky glances that way before speaking to you again with a stern glare in his eye. “Now when Dada comes in here, you won't say any of those silly little thoughts, will you?” he asks presumptuously. You shake your head agreeably, and when Bucky’s head tilts with a clench of his jaw, you answer promptly out loud.

“Yes, Daddy” you quiver. He smiles at you, and as if on cue, Steve emerges from the door. There's a towel around his neck and he ruffles it around his hair before spotting you, his face lighting up when he does.

“Hi there angel,” he beams and leans down to you, instantly taking in the sight in front of him. 

Your adorable frame sitting atop his partner's lap. You looked so perfect right there. As if you were the last puzzle piece missing his entire life, now fitting together so seamlessly that it just looks like a painting. A beautiful one. Steve isn’t sure how they went without you before. Your soft face still holds a frayed look. His poor girl. He was hoping a little bit of rest would ease your frazzled little mind.

“You feeling a bit better after your nap?” Steve asks with a loving tone as he carefully picks you up from Bucky’s lap. He situates you so that you are on his hip, one arm supporting your bottom with legs wrapped around his side as he guides your arms around his neck. You fit so nicely around him like this. He almost wishes he could stop time and freeze this moment forever. Being able to hold you like this, he’s never felt so whole, so complete. You feel tense in his arms, but he knows one day…that won’t be the case. You’ll lean fully in, wholly relying on and giving yourself to them both. He’s eager for every moment leading to it and each subsequent instant after. 

Steve’s cold and wet hair tickles your arms. Being so close, you can’t help but notice the crisp comforting aroma that emits from his warm skin. 

For some reason, you look to Bucky as if he holds the answer to Steve’s question. He just glares at you with a slight scowl that dares you to misbehave before standing up after too long of silence on your part. 

“She’s still feeling a bit confused.” Bucky caresses you, palm enveloping the side of your face. “Huh, doll?” 

“Awh…” Steve joins in on stroking your face by soothing the back of your head. “well that’s okay angel. Babies get confused so easily.” he says with that underlying patronizing but sweet tone he uses. “Why don’t you let Dada check you, huh?” he asks while looking you up and down. You then feel all blood draining from your face as your eyes go wide, having no idea what he means by that. 

You look between him and Bucky frantically as Steve gently grabs one of your hands from behind his neck. You instinctively try pulling away but his grip tightens before you’re able to. 

“Now now, don’t be scared,” Steve assures sweetly, a stark contrast to the death grip on your hand. “Dada just needs to look at those pesky little marks we had to leave on you last night,” he explains while unraveling you from him and setting you back down on the couch where he kneels in front of you. Your body trembles in anticipation–for what exactly, doesn’t matter. 

You can’t control it as he diligently peels your socks off and rolls your leggings up to look underneath. He takes his time tracing the deformed marks with his fingertips, lifting up your ankles as he goes before making his way to your arms. He tugs on them gently in front of you and repeats his previous examination as if he’s mapping out every little laceration. “You don’t want any more of these…do you, babygirl?” Steve lilts, an ever so slightly threatening tone lacing his otherwise calm voice as he presses his fingers down, digging just harshly enough into where a bruise must be forming and causing you to jolt at the pain.

“Ah!-n-no!” you yelp pitifully quick at the discomfort.

“No…what?” Steve prods with false grace before pressing harder into your skin.

“N-no Dada!…ah!...please.” you shakily breathe the last word with a plea, pathetically pulling on your arms that don’t move an inch under his hold.

“Good girl,” he praises with a mischievous smile, and unclenches his painful grip, but doesn’t let go completely, instead, keeping a firm hold on you. 

He steadily lifts your wrists up…to his lips. They ghost your skin as he glints at you with a soft smirk before placing slow…slow kisses along the marked-up lines. 

Warm lips meet the welts that are painted all across and up your arms from where you were bound–corporal reminders of what disobeying meant–he trails each one of them, dragging his lips and dousing each inch of burning skin with tender kisses, his grip remaining its powerful hold so you remain immobile. 

When he makes his way to your upper arm, you physically resist from full-on screaming. A quick glance to Bucky with your sorrowful eyes reveals no mercy from him. He just glares at you, a deadpan look on his face but a teasing smirk in his eyes that dares you to make a noise. 

Steve lifts his head up to face you after planting his last kiss on your upper arm, just a hair's breadth from your face. Your head has already pushed itself back as far as it’ll go as the rest of your body is ensnared by his that hovers atop yours. Thick air surrounds you as your trembles turn to full-on shaking, watching him as his eyes don’t even meet yours. His blown pupils are intensively fixated on your lips now.

They look so soft.

Time itself seems frozen, all except a slow-motion icy droplet that falls from the tips of his hair. It lands atop soft cotton, dampening the fabric on your chest that ripples chills throughout you. He follows it, dark eyes lowering to where sensitive skin is hidden by the dainty onesie Bucky dressed you in earlier. You feel heat taking over the arctic sensation within you as he looks at your body with what you can only prescribe as desire–want.

But to your–very minuscule–relief he looks back up to your eyes, and gives you a quick smile, before leaning back on his knees again in front of you with a satisfied smile adorning his face.

“Might take a while for those to heal up,” he remarks, “but don’t worry, Daddy and I will give them lots of kisses to help them heal.” he smiles at you. 

“What do you say, doll?” Bucky speaks up, crossing his arms. 

A confused and worried look that causes your eyebrows to furrow comes over your face, unsure of what he wants when you’ve barely gotten your heart to stop pounding from the previous predicament.

Bucky decides–for now–he’ll key you in. Mostly because he doesn’t like seeing his Stevie all upset when you don’t do as you were told. 

He mouths a “thank you” with a cock of his head motioning towards Steve below him. 

“Th-thank you…D-dada” you squeak, voice uncontrollably shaky. 

“Oh, such a good girl. My good little girl,” Steve beams at you before standing up. “Oh…poor thing,” he remarks while looking down at your trembling form. “You must be freezing,” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dada will go get you a sweater. Stay right here,” he instructs before trailing off. 

When he comes back, there's more than just an extra garment in his hand. 

“Now later you can play upstairs all you want, but right now,” he speaks while setting down a few colorful-looking books and a box of crayons on the coffee table. “Daddy and I need to watch you and make sure you stay safe,” He then motions for you to move your arms up so he can put the sweatshirt he brought for you on. He carefully moves your arms and head through the holes and then leads you to the coffee table. “You can color as long as you like, angel, just make sure to tell us if you need anything, like water…or juice, okay?”

You nod your head complacently at him while he holds your hand looking down at you.

“Okay-I mean-I-yes…Dada” you fumble before kneeling down on the carpet yourself in front of the variety of coloring books. 

You don’t want to color. But–genuinely–what choice do you have? You could protest, but it wouldn’t lead anywhere beneficial. 

You scan the playful books in front of you, trying to find some solace in the fact that maybe focusing on this would at least mean less nerve-wracking interactions with…them. 

It shouldn't matter–which picture you settle on–with your brain still rattled from before, only you can’t help but feel choosy about the drawing you pick. You flip through the books, dog-earing the ones that pique your interest before settling on a foresty scene that depicts two large sleeping wolves and a little rabbit nestled right in the middle. 

For some perplexing reason, the crayon box decides it doesn’t want to be opened by your frail fingers. Steve quickly notices your frustrated struggle with it and instructs you to hand it to him so he can open it for you. You groan at the box and mutter something about how you ‘got it.’ 

You don’t see his eye squint and eyebrow raise as he watches you fumble with it for a moment longer, but you do feel him taking the box from your hands. 

“I don’t want you hurting those precious little fingers of yours now,” He smoothly opens the box and hands it back to you with a pet to your head. 

At some point, Bucky notices your tired posture and offers you a pillow to sit on before moving the coffee table closer to the couch so you can rest your back on the cushiony sofa. He moves it effortlessly as if the table wouldn’t break your back if you tried to move it. 

You mumble an assenting “thank you daddy” to which Bucky responds. “You’re welcome, sweet girl” with a wink and you withhold from sticking your tongue out at him.

Either one or both of them remain in the room with you for the rest of the evening, checking on you every so often. You attempt to keep your attention on remaining within the lines when you color, but you can’t help the way your unnerved hands still shake, causing you–to your annoyance–to occasionally strike outside the lines. 

By the time the sun has long set, and the only thing illuminating the paper in front of you is warm artificial light, you find yourself yawning with your head sideways on the table as you color. Whiffs of savory smells dance through your nose as Bucky has been in the kitchen for the last little bit preparing dinner.

“Getting sleepy babygirl?” Steve asks, peering down at you and your drawings. You shrug your shoulders, unsure of which answer would allow you the most leniency. 

“Oh, that one is just perfect,” he remarks while bending over and picking up the forest scene you colored first. It was hidden amongst other drawings that you had shuffled to the side. He holds it up and takes a good look at it. “You did such a good job,” he compliments. “I think this one deserves a place on the fridge” he boasts.

You turn your head back and watch in curiosity as he really does make his way to the kitchen and secures it with a little magnet. He stands back and smiles in satisfaction while you go back to coloring, feigning that you never even noticed the proud expression radiating off his body, and positively pretending that your insides didn’t go soft for a brief moment watching him. 

Steve and Bucky chatter while setting the table. You try to tunnel in on their voices but you can’t exactly make out what they’re saying as they speak quite lowly to each other. 

Steve makes his way to you and takes your hand to guide you to the table. He sets you in the seat furthest away from the door as they both sit rather closely to you–practically trapping you in. You poke at your otherwise appetizing plate as you have little desire to eat with your stomach still turned in tangled knots. 

They both encourage you to eat throughout, but you only manage to get a few bites down. Neither of them look particularly happy with you and your full plate. Nevertheless, they stop pushing after a bit and share a knowing look that you can’t make out the meaning of. 

You huff a quiet sigh of relief when they take your plate and start cleaning the kitchen, silently feeling as though you won this trivial round of control.

Bucky catches you from the corner of his eye as you take it upon yourself to get out of your chair. He tenses, preparing to snatch you before you can move until he realizes you’re only going to the living room, opposite of where the front door is. He decides to just watch you for a few moments as you go back to coloring with criss-crossed legs.   

Innocent little thing. His naive little doll shading away, having not a clue in your pretty little head of how erroneous it was to make your own decisions like that. It really was much too soon for you to truly understand what consequences will come when trying to think for yourself. He can’t exactly blame you though. His poor little baby had to do it for so long before they found you. It’s probably why you’re benignly coloring away with not an idea in your head of what’s really in store for your life here. Such a sweet, sweet little girl they had. All to themselves. Forever now.

He observes how you ferociously analyze and juxtapose the colors before you, even testing them on other miscellaneous paper before choosing the right one for the job. 

He already knows you better than you can even comprehend. He knows you’ve likely already thought you’ve gotten away with it.

“What do you think you’re doing little girl?” Bucky’s scolding voice startles you, causing you to jump a little in your spot. After just a second, he roughly yanks you up by your arm, spinning you around to face him as he holds you. “Did Daddy tell you you could leave the table? Hmm? Did Dada?” he fumes, the sudden escalation in action and tone making you want to just cry. 

“I-I-” you fumble, squirming uncomfortably below him. “I thought-”

“Oh I don’t think you were thinking anything in that silly little head of yours,” he chastises while pinching one of your cheeks harshly with his free hand. “And did you really think you could get away with not eating?”

“Ah!-” you fight, struggling against him, confused and disoriented on why he’s suddenly being so harsh when you thought you were off the hook. 

“Hey-hey, it’s okay,” you hear Steve speaking up behind him. “Let me talk to her Buck,” he says, allowing Bucky to let go of your arm and cheek. You tearfully rub at your hurt cheek while Steve kneels down to your level. “Sweet girl…remember yesterday when daddy gave you apple juice?” he asks, circling his hand behind your ear and gently cupping the cheek that Bucky previously inflicted harshly. You nod smally, glancing away around the room as you recall the unfond memory of being bottle-fed against your will. “Good, then you should know that little girls need their nutrients. And that means no skipping dinner,” he explains with a kind voice that makes you feel as if he's quite literally talking to a child.

“I-okay…Dada” you add, grateful for Steve at least being gracious enough as to not yell at and pinch you like Bucky just was. 

“Good girl,” he smiles at you before telling you to sit tight on the couch while he goes to get your dinner. You sit there, a bit perplexed on how he planned on giving you a meal when you’re pretty sure you saw Bucky scrape the remnants of your food into the trashcan. 

Steve returns with no plate in hand and sits a bit away from you, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion until you see it. 

You watch in horror as he reveals a milky white bottle that he shakes in his hand while speaking to you.

“Come here,” he beckons, patting his spacious thigh. You grimace at the granule liquid that swirls around in the bottle, not unlike the one Bucky used on you yesterday. If you didn't know better–which you don’t–you’d say it quite literally looks like baby formula.

“Uhm…I just…” you trail off, trying to come up with a reason, any reason not to be literally bottle-fed like you were yesterday. “I’m-I’m really not hungry-my-my stomach hurts,” you reason clumsily, but truthfully as well since the only thing filling your stomach right now is queasiness. Most of it coming from your situation, but the grainy texture swirling around in the bottle certainly doesn’t help your appetite either. “And-and I can just eat the other stuff,” you add frantically while looking back to the kitchen and wringing your hands.

“Now this is going to help my sweet girl feel a lot better and sleep real tight,” Steve remarks, completely ignoring your words and requests. 

“I-I said I'm not hungry.” you say a bit louder, but with a mild tone as to not sound too combative. 

“And I said this will help you sleep,” he asserts while dabbing the tip of the bottle on his wrist. “Now come sit on Dada’s lap,” he demands while patting his thigh again. You shake your head while subtly scooting away from him. 

“Mmm-mmm” you hum a no while sliding back even further. “Please, I don’t wan-”

“Did Dada ask what you wanted?” he cuts you off with a cock to his head at you. “No,” he shakes his head, answering his own question patronizingly. “I didn’t. You don’t get to decide what’s good for you. Only Daddy and I know that. Now I won’t ask again. Come here. Now.” he insists sternly. You debate quickly in your head, weighing out your limited options. When you still sit there not moving an inch, Steve sighs and reaches for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“No!” you say in response to the action. He’s not necessarily yanking or being particularly rough, but without thinking, you push back at him, your free hand overshooting and accidentally hitting his shoulder. Of course, it’s like you’ve hit a brick wall, the small action hurting your wrist much more than it likely hurt him at all. But something about it felt…cathartic. And something inside you just…snaps. 

You had played nice all day, letting them hold you, touch you, kiss you. Hell–you even sat on the floor for hours and colored while wearing a onesie. And now he wanted to bottle feed you actual formula. You had to draw the line. 

You couldn’t give in. The silent promise you made to yourself earlier rings in your head. You weren’t going to drink this stupid bottle.

Steve still has you in his grasp and is pulling you closer to him so that you can be in his lap. Only, you take this opportunity to fight. Hard. 

With all the strength you have, you wrench yourself back. Steve quickly encapsulates both your hands, making you feel as though you’ll sooner break your own wrists before you ever successfully free yourself from his grip. You take it upon yourself to switch strategies, maneuvering yourself into a position where you just start kicking at him feverishly. It felt childish. It looked childish. But you didn’t care right now. You weren’t going to play along any longer. 

You realize halfway through your nonsensical thrashing fit that Steve is likely just letting you play this out before he decides he’s had enough. He decisively stands up, dragging your combative form with him as he roughly swings you up to throw you over his shoulder. You still fight him, your flailing is joined with nonsensical shrieks as you lash out on him physically and verbally. Steve holds you down atop him firmly while hauling you upstairs. Before you realize it, you’re roughly tossed down into a mattress. The otherwise compliant spread hurts you on impact from the height you fall from. Your swirling vision from being upside down and lack of oxygen in your lungs from screaming leaves you disoriented until your dazed eyes focus on structured parallel bars. 

Steve’s thrown you into the very crib he showed you just hours ago. 

“That’s just for when you’re feeling extra little,”

You instantly try to stand up only for Steve to effortlessly push you back down, sending you to roughly bounce on your bottom. You clumsily try to regain your balance and breath while Steve reaches for something besides the crib. Before you know it, Steve’s grabbed both your hands and starts heatedly tying them together. Tightly. He ensnares your fingers together and weaves the rope around every inch of your digits up to the middle of your forearm, completely restraining the hands that fought him. 

You try getting up again only to find it’s surprisingly hard to move with your hands bound in front of you. 

He mutters to you something about ‘not moving’ while making his way to the end of the crib. He abrasively yanks both of your legs down to the edge of the caged mattress and begins tying those together too. You flail hopelessly, hurling unkind words at him while he secures your ankles to the bars, completely immobilizing the legs that were just unabashedly kicking at him.

When you finally catch a glimpse of Steve’s face, his expression is unforgiving. Furrowed eyebrows highlight his intense dark focus as veined arms secure you to the crib.

Steve straightens himself up and towers over you from beside the crib. He just watches you until you decide to give up on fighting, realizing you can’t free yourself from your binds. Your anger slowly turns to just pure sorrow, as you find yourself crying hot tears into your already burning face. You murmur pointless cries asking over and over again to just be let go…

“Angel…” Steve says softly, his features appearing less angered now, but still unhappy nonetheless. “I’m going to give you one more chance,” he kneels down, leveling himself with you from outside your confines. He reaches through the bars and caresses your rope-covered hands. “If you do what Dada says, then I might go easy on your punishment,” he slides his hands up, open-palmed, slowly inching his way to your face. He lingers on your throat for a moment too long before laying his hand across your cheek. “But that’s only if you stop being a bad girl…is that what you want?” he asks patronizingly, with a cock to his head, faux sympathy lining his tone. “You want Dada to treat you like a bad girl?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, heavy tears pitifully falling as Steve watches you. He doesn’t catch them as he awaits your answer that doesn’t come. 

He then tries to give you the bottle from before again but you only resist. Shaking your head and crying profusely while mumbling sorrowful nonsense.

Steve sighs, and hangs his head. He doesn’t enjoy seeing you like this. He wants to hear you laugh. The same laugh he heard over anything else the first night he found you. He wants to see you smile. The same way you beamed at him that night he helped you find your way back. He wants to draw you close when you fall asleep next to him. The same way he’s watched you fall asleep all by yourself for months. He wants to replace the teeny little thumb you always stick in your mouth when you think no one is watching with his. He knows you want this. He knows you need this. 

But it’s obvious his poor girl just doesn’t understand that yet. 

Steve knows babies have a hard time listening when throwing tantrums anyway...  

For now, if you won’t listen, he’ll just have to show you. 

“My sweet girl…” Steve grabs your face, turning it towards him. “You just won’t learn unless Dada shows you, huh?” he releases your face dismissively and stands up. 

“If you want to act out…” he speaks while reaching across the crib above you, 

“and think you’re a big girl…” he lifts something weighty that’s attached to the top of the crib, 

“that’s fine,” parallel bars intrude your vision of Steve from above you, 

“But this is what happens when you act like a bad girl.” Steve’s voice turns more ireful with every word he speaks, as he works his way around the crib, latching multiple locks together that you hadn't noticed before with increasingly aggressive force. 

“You get treated like one. Bad girls get left all alone by themselves without Dada. If you really want Dada to let you go. Fine. You’ll stay right here until you understand what it means to listen.” he slams the last latch shut.

You barely have time to process his words while your wobbly vision interprets what’s happening above you. By the time you comprehend that there’s a top to this ‘crib’ that Steve has locked you in, he’s already left the room, truly isolating you.

Anguished sobs that were falling on deaf ears during Steve’s spiel to you now meet the equally deaf silence of the room itself. 

The only sound that accompanies you now is your own cries, echoing back pitifully to you from the horizontal bars above…

#stucky x reader #dark!stucky x reader #soft!dark!stucky #soft!dark!stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky #stockholm syndrome #stucky x little!reader #dark!stucky x little!reader #daddy!steve #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky barnes #dark fic #kidnapping #little!reader #Steve rogers fic #stucky fic #Bucky Barnes fic

[darkdarkstucky]

Enchanted, S. Rogers and C. Kent.

SUMMARY: In a world where Omega's were scant and decent alpha's even more so, you think you're one in a million to be in a relationship with Alpha's who not only take care of your every whims and need, but also love and respect you unconditionally. However, your marital bliss of two years is interrupted by the concept of ‘true mates’.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Clark kent.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst.

CHAPTER THREE

“Wake up, buttercup!” Natasha cheerily exclaims, clapping her hands together after successfully pulling back the curtains to let the sunshine in your desolate quarters. You groaned sleepily turning your head towards the other direction, until she peeled the covers back from you.

“Uh-uh, we are not letting you sleep in the bed for days on end again.” the red head tuts, pulling your limp arm and ushering you towards a seating position. “Today, we're going out and walking on sunshine vampy.”

“No. Let me wallow in doubt and sadness.” you whine, eyes shut. You were still in dreamland, nestled in the covers with the ac on full blast— and you could literally spend days in the bed it feels like. You were always so sleepy and tired.

Part of you blamed it on over-thinking. Your brain must have been fueling up for all of your racing thoughts. Or it was only during sleep that you weren't thinking anything.

“Can't. The sun is up and the day is to be conquered. Where's your fucking spirit?”

“Oh wait! I remember where i left it, let me check.” you wiggled, making her hold loosen before you dived back into the sheets.

Comfy. So so nice.. you rub your face in Clark's pillow, sighing out in bliss. Just as you were about to doze off again..

“Nat!” you bellow, feeling yourself get lifted off the bed and towards the en suite.

“We're going out and fucking things up dollface! No excuses!”

☁️

“I feel like richard gere and you're my bitch- well, technically not one, but you get my point.” Nat nonchalantly puts down the menu, staring at you from across the table.

There was an astounding array of shopping bags placed neatly along the floor, both of you going haywire on different shops and swiping daddy's plastics, and only when you calmed down did you realize how much clothes you bought.

You'd feel bad, yet both Steve and Clark had gaslighted you early on that it isn't real money princess. So you went on your merry way each time and thought as if you were only playing pretend.

“Why can't i be a bitch?” you mutter, inbetween bites of garlic bread, basically inhaling the small tray of decadent pastry. It was crunchy, and soft on the inside with hints of melted cheese. Ohmy, you wanted to gobble it up.

Nat looked at you as if you were stupid. “Because.. you're rainbows, and butterflies and shiny shimmering glitter.”

You made a face, “You're saying i'm made of nice things? Aww, naty.”

“Yes, and if i put you in my mouth, you'll melt like a cotton candy.” she flippantly voices, which made both of you stare at eachother— silent and intent gazes, before bursting into laughter. Giggling at the unknown double entrede.

“Hello, madamme.” Your head snaps towards a slightly familiar older man decked in a pristine suit, an easy yet flattering grin on his face. “How are you finding your lunch? Has anyone taken your order yet?”

“Oh, hey ben. It's pleasant, as it always is. We've actually just placed our orders,” You smile in response.

“Oh that's great! and you're here with Mrs. Barnes, i see.” He politely nods to the red head. “Will you be joining Mr. Kent at the second floor? He's got an entourage, but i doubt it's concerning business. It appears to be more casual.”

“Is that so? I mean, Clark did say something about a lunch. Who's he with?” Your mouth moves faster than you could think.

In reality, the only thing you've recieved from both of them were casual goodmornings and update as to where they were. Steve was in France, Clark said he was in Russia. Atleast, that was what they told you.

“The usual, madamme. A couple of security details, and a new secretary. She seems to be new, atleast from who Mr. Kent usually keeps in his payroll.” The host narrates, thinking nothing of it. Everyone was already well aware of how much you meant to your husbands— to the point where nobody would bat an eye if they were seen out with another woman. Nobody could possibly believe they would replace you.

And you hated to jump into conclusions, but why would he need to lie?

Your heart wanted to lurch out of your chest. Nat's clearing of her throat made you snap out of your spiral; and you schooled your features back into a cheery expression once again.

“Well, if Mr. Kent wouldn't mind our presence.”

☁️

“.. I was actually a scholar of Kent foundation. Can you believe it? Our fates, so intertwined. It was really as if we were meant to be.” Lois gushes, leaning over in her chair, looking at him as if she were about to jump his bones.

Frankly, it made him quite uncomfortable. Nothing about this - if you could even call it a date, it was more like a formal gathering or a meet of sorts that he was inclined to arrange- felt natural, nor right.

Clark wanted to rely on his base instincts for direction but he couldn't grope for a shred of connection. Not even a silver of fondness, which is strange, considering thag they were supposed to be compatible— the person oppsite of him bore the genetic compatibility, as per several tests.

Though, what she said piqued his interest. “Which part of town would you say?”

“Upper east side,” Lois responds. Clark shifted in his seat, a smile making it's way to his features which held a considerable sway in her judgement. He asks a few more questions in that honeyed voice of his, to which she absently replied at.

“Huh, would you look at that.” He leans back in his seat, gears in his head turning but he maintained an easy smile on his face, mirth dancing in the darkened blue of his eyes.

“How about i permanently move your residence in, say, one of my towers?” Lois' breath hitched at the proposal.

“I-i mean, sure if that's what you want.” she gathered herself for a while, before remembering to act bashful and blinking up at him rapidly, smiling coyly. “I'm yours afterall. Your mate.”

You can hear the jeers and the laughter, staying through the conversation, until you found yourself feeling literal pangs of hurt in your chest. Fuck. What does all of this mean?

“Let me kill this son of a whore,” Nat was about to angrily storm inside, but you managed to stop her, putting an arm out.

“Don't even bother.” you murmur, finding it hard to find your own voice. At that point, you felt almost numb— as if your brain was shutting down from what you've heard, finding it difficult to process at all.

You woke up with the hope of your marriage still intact. Thinking, rather stupidly, that this was just a rather difficult hurdle in your marriage. Thinking that perhaps, this was all just a big misunderstanding like what you were repeatedly assured of.

But this was beyond even your wildest dreams. Nothing made sense. It was as if your world was crashing down on you all at once. True mates? It mocks you repeatedly.

Steve and Clark told you that you were the one. You believed them, because why would they lie to you? They had no reason to!

To get in your pants, silly. The rational, or was it pessimistic part of you said.

You blinked away the tears, turning around, and indulging in the manical urge that clouded all your rationality— run.

So you fled.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #soft!dark steve rogers #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve x you #steve rogers fanfiction #alpha!steve rogers x reader #alpha!steve rogers x omega!reader #alpha!steve rogers #alpha!steve x reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent x female reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #clark kent fanfiction #soft!dark clark kent #soft!dark clark kent x reader #alpha!clark kent x reader #alpha!clark kent

[haleyhunwritess]

hi haley love, i’m probably sending too many requests i’m so sorry i just feel like i’m being heard here and i feel seen. i’ve been having so many panic and anxiety attacks and i was wondering if you can write something where broken promises stucky help the reader get through it or honestly whoever you’d like. i love you and i hope you’re doing good 🥺

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬

warning: anxiety/panic attack, mentions of anxious feelings, angst, fluff, dd/lg themes, soft!dark!stucky x little!reader

a/n: hi sweetheart, i'm so sorry you've been feeling that way love 🥺 but i hope you're doing a lot better now and you can always talk to me if you need help, my dms are always open my love <33 also i know you said broken promises but i think this could work as a general fic and for broken promises too, i hope you like it lovely <33 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Sweetheart I need you to put your coat on so that we can leave, we're already very behind on our schedule today. We still have to make dinner when we come home, I promised Steve we would try to cook tonight." Bucky rambled as he quickly slipped his boots on.

It had been kind of a hectic morning. Lots of errands to run, lots of things that needed to be done before a peaceful night in with Steve, who was coming back home after two weeks away.

However, when you woke up this morning, your head was pounding and it felt like heart was about to burst out of your chest. You were feeling uneasy as anxious thoughts were running through your head about everything and nothing at the same time. You didn't know why but sometimes you would have days like these where your anxiety got the best of you, and traumatic memories from your past felt like they occurred moments ago.

You needed a mental health day. There was no way you'd be able to handle a whole day of running errands with Bucky. Even getting out of bed this morning felt like an impossible task.

Of course if you told him how you were feeling, he'd be understanding, and he could help you feel better too. But you were in no mood to talk about your feelings.

It seems unfair but you were hoping Bucky would be able to just sense how you're feeling so you wouldn't have to vocalize how you felt. Normally Bucky would have noticed that you were feeling triggered, however, with it being a stressful and busy day, he was too busy trying to complete everything on his to-do list for today before Steve came home.

Unfortunately, with all these anxiety built up in your chest and how exhausted you were after helping Bucky clean the house, you were feeling more and more vulnerable. You felt so weak. So small. And Bucky had yet to notice.

For some reason, he assumed you were being difficult because of little things that happened throughout the day. First, you ran out of your favourite cereal for breakfast. Then, while you were picking up the dishes from the table, you spilled chocolate milk on one of your favourite sweaters.

There were some other small incidences but after each one Bucky assured you there is an easy fix, and that after today, things would be less chaotic.

Currently, he was trying to get you to slip your coat on but instead you just stood there in front of the front door, huffing with your arms crossed. Normally, Bucky would've laughed and called you adorable for trying to look intimidating but right now he was only getting annoyed since you were now an hour behind on your schedule.

"Baby please just listen to me, just this once. We can even have get my girl a new stuffie while we're out?" Bucky crouched down in front of you, trying to help you put your sneakers on. He could tell you were starting to feel kind of small, and he knew he might be able to bribe you with the promise of a stuffie.

Instead, you just shook your head and kicked him as he tried to put your sneakers on your feet for you. He groaned slightly in pain ad stood up immediately, all the patience having left his body at this point.

"Okay, put your shoes and your coat on right now, and meet me by the car in five minutes, understood?" He snapped. He was clearly very upset with your behaviour and he was not in the mood to deal with it right now.

You were frustrated and feeling even more little now, and you couldn't figure out what to do. All you knew was that you did not want to go out. You just wanted to stay home. Deciding to leave without saying a word, you picked up the sneakers and threw them at the front door before starting to walk away and towards the stairs. However, you didn't get very far as Bucky caught your arm and roughly picked you up in his strong arms. Judging from the expression on his face, he was certainly angry now if he wasn't before.

"What did I just tell you, huh? I'm not in the mood to deal with a brat today. When I put you down, you're going to pick up your sneakers and put them on before joining me outside by the car, is that clear?" He said sternly, while still trying not to lose his temper. Tears started to fill your eyes as soon as you heard his harsh tone towards you, and they almost fell as you noticed he nearly rolled his eyes at them, "Don't you dare with the tears, or I’ll give you something to cry about, doll."

After that, you couldn't help it anymore. Tears started rapidly streaming down your face as you sobbed uncontrollably in his arms. Bucky was shocked at first, he didn't realize you were this upset. He instantly began to apologize as he carried you over to the couch.

Whispering, sweet gentle words and apologizes while trying to calm you down was clearly not going to work this time. No matter how hard he tried to comfort you, you were inconsolable. You could feel your entire body shaking, and no matter how hard Bucky tried to calm you down, you just felt like your heart was on fire. It was getting more and more difficult to breathe. Moving your hand up to rub your chest gently, you tried to get yourself to slow down and work on your breathing. Bucky quickly caught on and carefully picked you up from his lap and put you down on the couch. He quickly got up, and sat down in front of the couch, kneeling in front of you.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's alright, baby. I've got you." He took your other hand in his, rubbing it gently while trying to get you to focus on him, "Just look at me, baby. I need you to look at me so I can help you, babygirl. I need you to focus on my breathing, okay? Do you think you can do that for me sweet girl?"

You looked at him for a second before carefully nodding, making him smile. He leaned up for a second to give you a quick kiss before settling back down and trying to help you again.

Focusing on Bucky, and trying to follow as him as he instructed you to take deep breaths with him. It seemed to be working, however, the anxious thoughts were still there. You didn't know how to tell Bucky though you knew he'd definitely wanna know what just happened.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Bucky said, as if he just read your mind, "I mean if you want to talk about it then I'm here for you, but I don't want you to feel like you have to. I just wanna know whether or not you're okay, doll."

"I..." You looked away, feeling even more nervous than before. It felt like your body was screaming at you to tell him why you were acting this way and how you felt right now. But you just couldn't, "I just want to be alone for a bit. I don't want to go out, I know you need to get some errands done but I don't think I wanna come with."

"Fuck the errands. So what if we order in again? No big deal, who cares. I need to make sure that you're okay, I can't just leave you alone after that."

"But I'd rather be alone right now, I promise I'm alright." You muttered nervously.

"Sweetheart, are you feeling little at all? Do you think you need da-" Bucky tried pulling you onto his lap to hug you, but instead you pushed him away and interrupted him.

"I'm not. I wanna be left alone." You nearly snapped as you got off the couch. You didn't know why but you were feeling very angry all of a sudden. The anxiety was still there but the implication of being too weak, vulnerable, or small to handle this on your own was making you a little frustrated.

"Umm alright, sweetheart, if you're sure. I guess I'll see you in an hour then, doll?" Bucky got up from the couch awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he felt slightly confused about what just happened. He knew it was a bad idea to leave you alone but he wanted to respect your decision and give you your space. He quickly left after that, and the second you heard him drive off in his car, you fell back on the couch and started crying once again.

You felt weaker than before and somehow the horrible feeling had reached your stomach making you feel a bit queasy. You couldn't help but wish that you hadn't asked Bucky to leave you alone. You wished that Steve was here too. You felt so small right now, you did not want to be alone. You curled up into a little ball on the couch and hoped that Bucky would be back soon.

After about ten more minutes of crying, you heard the front door open. You quickly looked up from the couch, hoping Bucky had decided to abandon his errands and come home to you instead. However, to your surprise, it seemed that Steve had come home a few hours early, He strolled into the living room towards you with a beaming smile on his face as he was excited to see his girl after being away for so long. Although, that smile disappeared pretty quickly when he noticed your tear-stained face.

"Oh no, pretty girl, what happened to you? Are you hurt?" Steve knelt down in front of you, looking at you with his concern-filled eyes. You quickly shook your head in reply, letting him know that you're not hurt. He could already tell that you were feeling little right now, and didn't seem to be up for much talking, "Bubba, where's Bucky? Why isn't he here with you right now?"

"He left...errands..." You mumbled, looking down at the ground, feeling guilty for practically kicking Bucky out of the house. You looked up at Steve and felt your guilt getting even worse when you noticed the shift in his demeanour. Watching him take his phone out of his pocket and angrily text someone.

"Baby come on, let's get you upstairs to bed for now, okay?" Steve said as he gently rubbed your back for a bit before getting up to you carry you upstairs in his arms. You heard his phone buzz in his pocket, and he stopped in his tracks to check and see what it was before continuing to walk upstiars again.

On the way to your room, you couldn't help but lean into Steve's touch making him smile slightly. He kissed the top of your head before gently putting you down on your bed.

You gulped, feeling guilty about receiving all these sweet attention from him while he clearly seemed mad at Bucky for leaving you alone when you told him what happened downstairs. Although, it was you who asked him to leave you alone, "Daddy please don't be mad. I asked him to leave."

Steve frowned at your words before shaking his head in reply, "Sweet girl, I'm not angry. I'm sorry I made you feel that way but I promise I'm not, okay?"

You slowly nodded in response, still unconvinced. Steve sighed in response and began gently rubbing your back as he spoke, "I'm not angry, I'm just a little upset that Bucky wasn't here while you were feeling this way, pretty girl."

You gulped before answering him in a quiet tone, "I asked him to leave me alone."

"Why would you do that, pretty girl?" Steve asked, although he already knew what happened as Bucky already texted him and explained the situation to him. He was upset that Bucky left, but he wasn't angry once Bucky explained that you asked him to leave. Now, he was just upset that you were all alone while feeling this way.

"Was feeling anxious...didn't wanna talk about it...still don't. Don't really know why I asked him to leave. I'm sorry..." You said, sniffling near the end of your sentence as the tears started flowing down your cheeks once again.

"Oh my sweet girl, it's okay, it's alright. There's no need to apologize, okay? Sometimes feelings like anxiety, or even sadness, make us do silly things. It happens to all of us, even me and Bucky." He carefully wiped your tears away before leaning down to kiss your forehead, "I'm right here, okay? I've got you, sweetheart. You just get some rest, and when Bucky comes home, we'll have a nice night in with some of your favourite pasta and whatever movie you want to watch, okay?"

You smiled and nodded your head in response. Steve smiled back at you and leaned down to kiss you again before getting up to pick up your favourite stuffie for you to cuddle with as you took your much needed nap.

taglist/moots: @starobi @chrisevansdaughter @cherryflavoredchapsticck @livvinitt @marvel1984 @babyhoneyriv @babyhatesreality @timidpumpkin @matchat3a @pono-pura-vida @sonalokibarnes @alex-ackerman-11 @ailathealternate @buckysugar

#daddy!steve #daddy!bucky #soft!dark fic #soft!dark bucky barnes #soft!dark!stucky x little!reader #soft!bucky #soft bucky #soft!dark steve rogers #soft!dark bucky x reader #soft!dark steve x reader #soft steve rogers #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky #bucky x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fic #brokenpromisesblurb #brokenpromisesseries #brokenpromisesau!

[nickfowlerrr]

trust me - chapter two

series masterlist

pairing: stucky x curvy!reader (dark!steve/soft!dark steve and bucky/soft!dark bucky)

warnings: not really any for this chapter but this series is dark so again, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. some mentions of paranoia, anxiety, and a previous attack reader experienced. +18 ONLY. (if i’m missing something important pls let me know!)

words: 1.5k

notes: a whole year later, here’s chapter two. i’m so unsure i’ll ever finish this series but i figured, might as well share what i have. this isn’t edited so sorry for any errors!

You slept through dinner time, thoroughly worn out thanks to Bucky who was sleeping right alongside you on the couch, both of you naked as could be. You only woke up when you were suddenly jolted by something, someone.

Steve had arrived at the cabin, unsurprised to find you and Bucky still laying on the couch. He admired your form as you were pressed into Bucky, his arms wrapped around you, unintentionally protecting your decency. A lick of jealousy hit him once again. He scowled at his friend and kicked the back of the couch. Hard.

You startled against Bucky with a gasp as the force of Steve’s kick shoved the couch and would’ve had you rolling off of it if not for Bucky tightening his hold on you instinctively. Looking up, you were met with the dark, piercing blue eyes of Steve. You yelped in surprise, pulling Bucky’s body on top of yours completely to hide beneath him. He sleepily obliged, raising up on a forearm so as not to smoosh you. He turned to face Steve, looking annoyed himself. Steve was supposed to give him a heads up when he landed. He knew you were on even more of a hair trigger lately, not to mention how much you cared for your privacy, and how you were about anyone seeing you in any kind of state you considered vulnerable. It took months before you finally felt close enough with Bucky to show him any kind of vulnerability and he took that seriously. He knew Steve was getting impatient but the last thing he wanted to do was rush you. And he never would have let Steve just walk in on you naked like this. It was bad enough he went ahead with this rushed plan of his before even talking to Bucky about it, sending you out here on your own and only then telling him about it, and now he’s already made you uncomfortable within mere minutes of getting here.

“What happened to calling?” Bucky gruffed.

“I did. You didn’t answer,” he responded. “Either of you.” Steve’s eyes cut to you again as he spoke sharply.

“Alright, well, you wanna give us a minute to get dressed, pal?” Bucky said, just as harsh.

Steve rolled his eyes before he began to walk back out of the room. “Hurry up,” he barked as you watched his retreat.

“Okay, something is seriously up,” you spoke quietly as Bucky let you up off the couch to redress. “He’s obviously pissed off about something..”

“Don’t stress on it, doll,” he told you as he slipped his shirt back on. “Probably just had a rough flight or something.”

You roll your eyes as you finish putting your clothes back on and then wait.

Bucky leaves you for just a minute to go get Steve so you can all finally get on the same page.

You were fixing the couch when they came into the room.

You pick your head up and meet Steve’s eye instantly before looking over to Bucky and sitting down.

“So, you gonna tell us what the hell is going on now?” you say, sharper than you intended.

The tick of Steve’s jaw alone is telling as your stomach twists.

“The mission’s been compromised.”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

“…That’s all you’re gonna say?” you question.

“That’s all I can say.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Bab-” Bucky tries to interject.

“No,” you say standing up in exasperated defiance, shooting your eyes to him before looking back to Steve. “What the fuck is going on here, Steve? Really.”

Bucky crosses his arms and looks to Steve for his answer.

“Look, there’s a lot I can’t tell you right now,” he says, suspiciously sending an annoyed look to Bucky as he does. “But believe me, you’ll know everything soon enough. The three of us are gonna be here for a while, though. There’s nothing we can or have to do right now, so let’s just enjoy the down time while we have it. I promise you I have everything under control, and when there’s something you need to know, you’ll know it.”

You didn’t realize how close he had gotten while he spoke until his hand came down reassuringly on your shoulder, sending an unexplained chill through you.

“Alright?” he follows up. Your eyes fall to his hand still on you before you look away, keeping your face down.

“Yeah,” you answer, though your tone makes it clear you aren’t satisfied with his explanation, or lack thereof.

His hand slowly drops from your shoulder before he squeezes your arm lightly and turns away.

“I’m gonna go get settled,” he announces before sending another sharp look to Bucky. “Buck,” he says with a nod of his head.

You watch the two of them go and then check the time. It’s a little past eight. You briefly consider starting something for dinner, but the uneasy feeling still gnaws at you and your focus just isn’t on cooking right now.

Instead, you go to the laundry room and grab the clean bedding, taking it back upstairs to your room to make the bed.

It doesn’t take you very long, and you decide to clean yourself up and start getting ready for bed, despite the fact that you’d just slept for five hours.

You wash off in the shower quickly and by the time Bucky comes into the room, you’re dried and in your pajamas.

“Hey,” he says as he approaches you, looking... off. You can’t quite put a finger on what it is or why.

“Hi,” you respond, instinctively wrapping your arms around him as he returns the gesture. “You okay?”

He picks you up with ease and you hold tighter to him. No matter how many times he does it, you’re always terrified one day he’s gonna drop you.

“Yeah,” he mumbles against your skin as he buries his face in your neck before taking you to the bed and easing you down to sit on the edge. He gets on his knees in front of you and rests his head in your lap as you play with his hair.

“You sure about that?” you prod gently.

“Yeah, I just. I get what you were saying last night. It’s not the same when Steve’s here. Not that I don’t want him here,” he quickly corrects himself, “it’s just different.”

“No, I know what you mean,” you assure him as you run your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp before you urge him to look up at you. “But no matter what, we’re still here together,” you smile softly as you gaze into his dreamy blues, “and that’s all that matters.”

Bucky leans up to kiss you gently, taking your face delicately in his strong hands as he deepens it before he has to pull away to allow you both some air.

“I love you, doll, you know that?”

“I know, Buck. I love you more.”

Bucky grins, “I don’t think that’s even possible,” he argues playfully as he gets up and pushes you gently down on the bed, eliciting a delicate laugh from you as he crawls on top and begins attacking with kisses and teasing touches.

A knock on the bedroom door gets your attention as Bucky begrudgingly parts from you, allowing you to sit up as he goes to open the door for Steve.

“I’m gonna make something to eat, you guys hungry?” he asks, his earlier anger and irritation seemingly gone now.

“Yeah,” Bucky responds for both of you, “We’ll be right down.”

You hear Steve walk away and then listen to his heavy steps as he goes downstairs.

You look at Bucky petulantly.

“What?” he asks with a huffed laugh.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten since lunch, you can’t just skip meals. ‘S not good for you,” he says, taking your hand and tugging you off the bed. You follow him reluctantly.

As you leave the room, you stop at the top of the stairs, tugging Bucky’s hand a bit.

He turns and looks down at you, waiting for you to speak.

“Seriously, nothing about this seems off to you?” you ask in earnest.

Bucky blinks, taking in your words before you watch him swallow a little thickly. He takes both your hands in his and gives you a half smile.

“Baby,” he starts, bringing one of your hands to his lips and kissing it gently, “you’re okay. We’re okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

His sincerity eases you just slightly as you sigh and nod, a rush of guilt coming over you for being so paranoid. You’re probably stressing him out for no real reason.

You want to explain yourself, the sudden urge to tell him everything about that night, the attack, the true reason you were so on edge lately - well, more so than normal.. - to tell him all of it, was strong.

But you couldn’t do it right now.

You’d tell him later, after you ate and you two were alone again.

#dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #soft!dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky x curvy!reader #dark!bucky barnes x curvy!reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x curvy!reader #soft!dark bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #trust me series