#dark!steve rogers x y/n

[highonmarvel]

Hi there! May i please request a mob!steve x reader where the reader used to be with him but when she found about his mob life she left him so like the HR he decided to ruin her life and one day he just shows up in her now downgraded apartment and manipulates and gaslights her into coming back to him, and she just goes back because she’s just in a vulnerable place

Feel free to add your own spin to it btw love your work soo much! Especially the biker!bucky 🤗

oh, i like this! and thank you so much for the love! i hope you enjoy. and i apologise for taking over a month to get back to you, shit’s been wild for me. okay, here we go:

Easy Luxury

Steve Rogers: You find out how your suspiciously wealthy boyfriend makes his money, and have to start over without it.

content warnings here!

It was never manipulation, it was a deep understanding that enabled him to know what you needed before you even opened your mouth, a symptom of being the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy next door type. Naturally, he knows what’s best for you, you’d never have to question him. And you didn’t.

Steve was suspiciously wealthy for such a humble and down-to-Earth guy, but you didn’t question it; his expensive car, his shiny watch, his high rise penthouse, his seemingly endless cash, you didn’t read too much into it, you just enjoyed his presence, and his luxury didn’t hurt either; anything you wanted, and things you didn’t, Steve gave to you, and you accepted gratefully. He even insisted you live closer to him until he didn’t have so many people coming in and out of his apartment for something he never quite explained, and then you could move in with him. You live in a nice ass building a block down from him, making for easy visits, curtesy Steve.

You sigh as you place your bag down in the lift on the way up to the top floor, excited to surprise Steve. You had head to see your parents for what was supposed to be two weeks, but after just one you’d had enough, and you missed Steve.

You excitedly bounce on your toes as you pick your bag up again, the elevator numbers just a few ticks from the top. With a wide grin, you stare straight ahead as the the doors open, and that smile immediately drops.

Right in the middle of your living room, Steve is ripping the teeth out of a guy tied to a chair. Even the back of his shirt is bloodied, and there’s so much blood on the floor you have to assume there have been many other people in this man’s position in the time you’ve been away.

“You fucking rat,” he grunts as he pries the man’s mouth open again and sticks an adjustable wrench into the back of his cheek. It clasps onto one of his wisdom teeth and Steve pries it out, and you can tell he’s satisfied despite his back facing you. The man lets out a bloodcurdling scream and Steve tosses the tooth onto a pile of at least five others.

“Workin’ for the Starks, huh?”

The Starks are a well known mob family in New York, and if they’re Steve’s rivals then…

You gasp out loud.

Steve whips around, and his face, though covered almost entirely in crimson, goes pale.

“Baby! You’re back early.”

You finger flies to the close button for the doors, pressing furiously as if that’s gonna make it happen faster. Steve races towards you, calling your name as you anxiously push the button at lightning speed. At the very last split second, just before Steve can stick his hand between the doors, they shut, and the lift begins to descend. You hear Steve’s frustrated “Fuck!” and banging above you as your stomach sinks with the elevator.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what can you do? Steve had convinced you to quit your job, you pretty much lived exclusively off of him, but you can’t possibly stay with him, yet you’re rendering yourself homeless if you leave.

Once you get to the ground floor, you race out the door, leaving your bag behind and ignoring a concerned look from the doorman as you dart out. You phone buzzes in your pocket, and you know it’s Steve. You ignore the vibrating phone call and run towards your apartment. You’re sure you have some money cobbled together from Christmas cards over the years. No way in hell you can pack your things, and you know you’ll have to get rid of your phone, but you need at least a little bit of cash.

You’re sure you’re on the verge of dying from a lack of oxygen as you make it to your apartment and slam the door behind you, locking it, too, though you doubt that’ll keep him out.

You’re furiously rummaging through drawers when a gentle rap at the door makes your soul damn near leap out of your body.

“Honey?” Steve calls, voice calm as ever, as if he didn’t just commit such unspeakable violence, and who knows what fucking else he’s done that you’ve never seen? And how did he get here so quick? Is he still covered in blood and spit and flesh and evidence from his torture?

You try to tune him out as you look for the last of the envelopes to add to your small pile, but you can’t ignore his gentle voice trying to coax you into a state of relaxation he would soothe you into when your anxiety became too much to bare.

“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.”

“Go away!” you manage to shriek through hyperventilation.

“Don’t do something stupid,” he warns, voice low in a way you’ve never heard him use before, and if you were terrified before, you were on the verge of a heart attack now.

With a few envelopes and no way to escape, you run to the window and peer down; you’re three floors up with some soft patches of grass beneath you. You don’t have time to even calculate it, surely adrenaline will get you through the pain if you’re severely hurt. You’re working up the nerve, and just as Steve busts the door in, yelling your name, you jump, luckily landing on your feet, but falling soon after, and briefly wondering if you’ve dislocated your knee as you scramble to stand and start running.

Steve shouts your name from the window but you don’t even look back, just running to God knows where. You’re sure you’ve run full speed for more than half an hour when, by such luck, you stumble across a really cheap looking motel. Just as you throw some cash to the guy to give you a key, you feel around in your pockets for your phone, panicked, and for the first time in your life, you’re glad to have lost it. He can’t find you now, at least not by tracking, you hope. Though you might have expected to be plagued by insomnia due to your stress, you pass right the fuck out as soon as your head touches the crusty pillow on the room’s stained mattress.

***

The sun isn’t out when you snap your eyes open, it couldn’t have been more than six hours since you ran away, then, but there’s no sign of Steve, and you let out the biggest breath of relief there ever could be. You head to the bathroom to shower and think of your next move, but it’s so filthy you wonder if you’re only making yourself dirtier by stepping in. You’re sweaty, and your body is physically tired from the sprinting. You flop onto the floor as you try to consider your next move. You’ve got an old friend living in Queens! You haven’t spoken to her in years, literally since high school, but since then she had practically been living on her own and raising herself and her sister, you can’t imagine she’s moved since then.

You have to walk a ways before you manage to get to an area you can hail a cab, and that takes a little more effort than you would have liked to exert. By some grace you manage to remember the address, and as you pull up, the house looks pretty much the same as all those years ago, giving you a glimmer of hope.

You drag yourself to the front door and manage to knock despite your weak body.

The door opens after a few moments to reveal the red hair you haven’t seen in forever, yet still, she looks virtually the same.

“Natasha!” you say as you collapse into her arms.

“Oh my God!” she cries, but she catches you with ease, “What are you doing here? What happened?”

You can barely speak, but she seems to somewhat understand as she leads to you to her living room and gently sets you down on the couch. Her blonde sister comes running into the room, eyes wide and panicked.

“Yelena!” Natasha calls, and hurriedly says words in Russian you could never understand. Yelena leaves and returns with a cup of water, which you gratefully accept, not realising just how thirsty you actually were. You gulp down the water like a dying fish and Yelena immediately leaves to get you another.

Sitting down and not on the verge of dehydration, you can speak, but your voice is still hoarse.

“I’m sorry for dropping in like this—”

“Don’t ever apologise for coming to me,” she cuts you off sternly, nearly angrily, like she’s irritated you thought you could ever bother her. She was this way in high school, but still, you haven’t spoken in years and years, and you feel bad for that. You know she can help you, or she’ll try to do everything in her power to do so, but you can’t let her get involved in mob business… like you were, unknowingly.

“I’m just in a rough spot,” you say, nodding thanks to Yelena as you take the second cup of water and down it even quicker than you did the first one. She sits down next to you, concerned, as Natasha is seated across from you on the opposite couch, leaning forward, forearms on her thighs as she listens attentively, “Don’t have a job or a place, or anyone else I can go to. I’ve got a bit of money, can you help me find a cheap place?”

“Just stay with us,” Yelena says, sitting up straight.

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees, “It’s clear there’s a lot going on, please, don’t be alone right now. You can stay here, I can help you get a job.”

Even after all this time, she treats you so beautifully, but you can’t let her get wrapped up in this; if Steve finds you, he might hurt Nat and Yelena, and you’d never be able to live with that (and maybe you won’t have to if he kills you too).

“No!” you say, a little louder than needed, causing the pair to give you strange looks, “Please,” you say, speaking softer now, “If you want to help me, can I just use your shower and you help me get a place? I know you know a lot of people.”

You can tell she wants to protest, but Nat only presses her lips into a thin line and exhales through her nostrils, nodding before standing up.

“Okay,” she concedes, “Yelena will get you some fresh clothes and I’ll make some calls.”

“Thank you,” you say, with more sincerity than you ever have in your life. Yelena helps you up, and you want to protest, but realise you’re a lot weaker than you thought, and you can’t tell if it’s mental or physical exhaustion.

You have to sit down in the shower, rinsing the stickiness off of you and watching it float in the few centimetres of water before being whisked down the drain.

You’re steadier on your feet once you’re clean and dressed, and you pop into the kitchen just as Nat hangs up her phone.

“Okay, I’ve got somewhere $95 a month, but it’s not great.”

You shake your head, “It’s perfect, thank you.” You counted around $650 in your cash, but if you get a job you can make it work.

“But you’re not leaving before you eat.”

Eating breakfast with Nat and Yelena takes the weight of the world off your shoulders, the three of you laughing about events from a decade ago with the same vigour you did when they first happened. But you can’t shake the feeling you have to leave, quick.

You’re nearly done helping the pair clean up when Nat comes up to you.

“Hey, what’s your number? We should stay in touch, even if just for a few months, just so I know you’re okay.”

“I lost my phone,” you sigh.

“I’m drop in every once in a while then, okay? And you can’t fight me on this. I’m honestly really worried about you,” she throws her dish rag over a chair and walks up to you, holding your shoulders as she looks into your eyes, “But I’m so glad you came. I’m always here for you. So is Yelena.”

You look to the doorway Yelena’s leaning against and she gives you a smile, but it’s a little sad.

“Thank you, Nat. I love you, so much. And I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

“These things happen, it’s fine. I’m just glad you’re in one piece. Looks like you had a hell of a night.”

You laugh shakily and nod, “I did. I’m surprised I didn’t dislocate a knee.”

“Oh my God… okay, conversation for another time, let’s just get you into your place. Do you have anything we need to take?”

You literally have no earthly possession with you at this point besides the envelopes, which you tuck into the inner pockets of Nat’s biker jacket she’s lending you. You refused to take any clothes other than one other pair of pants and a t-shirt, but Yelena promised she’d wash your others and bring them back, though you’re not even sure you want them anymore.

“I’ll be back with them tomorrow,” she says as she closes the door, leaving you alone in a flat you’re sure has mould.

There’s only a couch, a mattress, and a clock you’re not sure if displays the correct time, which is more than you were expecting. You flop down onto the slightly dirty couch and run your hands over your face. Now fed, hydrated, and somewhat rested, you can’t think of anything else to distract you from thoughts of Steve…

Okay, you’ll try to find a job tomorrow, for today, there’s nothing more you can do but try to sleep, even though it’s not even midday yet.

***

As promised, Yelena drops off your clothes the next morning, with the tears poorly sewn up, but you thank her for the effort and encourage her to leave the building before you do, in case Steve is watching, but you don’t cite that reason.

Half an hour later, you stride out, taking a walk down the dodgy streets, and luckily, you come across a bakery with an “URGENTLY HIRING” sign in the window. Your little streaks of luck would mean much more if it wasn’t overshadowed by everything else, and your luck ends when you’re half way into the interview.

“What?!” you gasp, trying to lean over to get a better look at the computer screen the interviewer (who’s just some teenager, probably a temp) is trying to shield from you.

“Ma’am, you have a charge for robbery, we can’t hire you.”

You exit in a daze, nearly numb at the realisation Steve would go this far. Why not just kill you? If he was worried you’d go to the police (the thought had never even crossed your mind until this moment), he’d just fucking kill you, or kidnap and torture you, he wouldn’t just leave you to rot out in the real world, that’s too risky.

You sadly make your way back to your flat, and who’s there when you open the door?

Steve stands with a crisp blue shirt in the centre of the room, and what can you do about it.

You fall to your knees and sob, face in your hands as you try to take in your fate. What did he want with you? You want to say you swear you’ll never tell anyone, that you haven’t told anyone, but you can’t speak through your gasping sobs.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, slowly making his way over to you, like he’s worried he’ll scare you off, “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’d never hurt you, baby, you weren’t supposed to see that, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I didn’t want to hurt you, ever, but I have.”

He sighs, and you manage to look back up at him, a somber coat over his blue eyes.

“And look at you,” he gently raises your arm to trace a finger over scrapes and scratches you guess are from darting through narrow alleyways and through thick bushes, “Baby, and look at his,” he gestures around him to the damp flat, and you sniffle, “You can’t stay here, come back, I’ll take care of you, like I always have.”

“Th- the arrest—”

“I had to do that, baby, I’m sorry. I just had to. If you were with me that never would have happened, see? And it can all go away. Honey, I’m offering you the world, all you have to do is come with me.”

With teary eyes you look around. You can’t live here too long or you’ll get some kind of mould poisoning, you can’t get a job, you can’t endanger Nat and Yelena…

“Okay,” you sigh, defeated, and just as Steve starts to smile, there’s a knock at the door. Natasha calls your name and you tense up, Steve looks down at you with his head cocked to the side.

“I think you better answer that, sweetheart. Tell her you’re not gonna be here anymore.”

He pulls you to your feet and you gulp as you lean your head against the door.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Let me in.”

If Steve sees Nat, he’ll know who to look for if you try anything like this again. But he’s sitting patiently on the couch, and he nods towards the door, beckoning you to open it. You take a deep breath and crack it open a bit.

“Hey, what’s up?” you think you say, but you can barely hear your words over the pounding of your heart.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, and you shoot a glance behind you, which you immediately regret when Nat bounces on her toes to get a look.

“Yeah,” you block her vision and bring her attention back to you, still trying to keep the door as close to closed as possible, “I… I have to go…”

“What?” she asks, “You just got here, what’s changed?”

“Things have worked out, it’s all good now, don’t worry—”

You freeze as you feel Steve behind you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you and Nat. You shut your eyes, willing this to be a trick of light or a hallucination due to stress, it can be anything but real.

“Hi. Steve Rogers,” he extends his hand, and Nat tentatively takes it, in only a way you know — to everyone else, she wouldn’t seem cautious, but you saw the clench in her right knee that gives away her switch to defence.

“Natasha Romanoff.”

Fuck, Nat, why did you say your name!?

“Nice to meet you. Don’t worry about her, she’s in good hands with me.”

She nods.

“Steve, could you go get my clothes for me? I think they’re in the bathroom or the bedroom, they’re the only two other rooms.”

He nods and turns away. Once he’s out of sight, Nat’s expression turns panicked as she scans your face, noticing tears welling. She doesn’t say it, but you can tell she’s pleading “Come with me.” You shake your head and quickly wipe away the tears before they fall, just as you hear Steve’s approaching footsteps again.

You shut the door just as he exits the bedroom with your neatly folded clothes from your recent run.

“Natasha washed these, I assume? Or was it Yelena?”

⍟

[taglist; @cjand10]

[dungeonpuppykai]

|| Back To Him ||

Description: He was flawed, but so was she. 

Pairing: Dark!Enhanced Witch Hunter!Steve Rogers | Dark Witch!Female Reader.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Steve Rogers. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Dub-con just to be safe, stockholm syndrome, possessive!Steve (if you squint idk it's 3am), mentions of blood and death (not reader), degradation, angst, broken!reader, no mentions of body type or ethnicity but Steve is bigger, age gap (Steve is older), dumbification, slapping, panty sniffing, p in v, unprotected sex, hair pulling, back scratching, squirting.

Note: More unedited than my life. Basically monster reader getting fucked by captor Steve. I needed to get this out in one go or I would never have finished it. So here's to doing this instead of studying for my upcoming exam! English isn't my first language. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

MASTERLIST

Steve felt a slight burn in his lungs as he willed his legs to push harder, feet thundering against the withered leaves littering his path to his destination; her. He hated how slow everything turned each time this happened. His body screamed for him to stop, heart fighting against it's cage, cold droplets of sweat trickling down his forehead. But he didn't stop. He refused to stop. Instead, the witch hunger blinked his eyes, ignoring his physical turmoil that was the consequence of his unprepared marathon, focusing on his path, the only chant in his mind being the place a fellow witch hunter had informed him of being the victim to her unbiased wrath. 

Hold on, Doll. Just hold on. Despite being enhanced by the potions of the very creatures he hunted and torched, his body struggled to battle against his will to make him stop. But Steve didn't. 

He couldn't. 

. . .

"Please, please, please, Miss! I just had a child!" The man in front of her begged, holding his hands in a prayer-like way as he shook on his knees in terror, bowing his head as tears rained down his face. "Please, please…"

She smiled, her silver irises contrasting against her otherwise coal hued eyes. The man clenched his jaw to find some control for his shaking when her floating body lowered itself to come closer to him. Not so much that her feet touched the ground, no. Just enough to come in close proximity with his kneeling form. 

A chill ran down his spine when she bent forward and took a long and rough sniff. "Hmmm~" her voice was dark, deep and gravelly. "You need not worry. I will honour you by eating her heart out and quenching my thirst with her sweet blood~" Y/n cackled as the man broke out into sobs, shaking his head profusely as he incoherently begged out pleads but to no avail. 

The chaos of flame, smoke, blood and bone around them was a personal fun fair to the overpowered witch ironically victim to her own strengths as she rose back up in the air, twirling in it as people shrieked and cried, running around them. 

"Hm~" Y/n hummed after a while of enjoying the sounds, her blissful expression morphing into one of boredom as she curled her lips outwards. "Boooooring~" a quick dismissive motion of her hands was followed by everyone around her flying around her into thin slices of blood and flesh with so much force that they sprayed all over her, accompanying their kind on her skin. 

The young witch walked on the air, hands wrapped behind her back as she hummed like a little girl playing with her friends, searching for survivors as she grinned in delight, her canine/like teeth gleaming like pearls in the sun.

"There you are!" Y/n clapped her hands in delight when she found a group of people hiding in a ditch. "I could smell your fear from miiiiiiles away~!" She chirped like it was nothing but a harmless game of hide and seek among friends. "Now," tilting her head to the side, she smiled as one of her hands raised in the air. "The fun part-" her words came to an abrupt stop as she felt something grip one of her feet, pulling her downwards. 

"Hm?" The witch snapped her head in the direction of the mysterious force, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when she saw a blonde man almost twice her size calmly pulling her towards him on the ground, hand on her calf now. I know him. "But from where?" She wondered aloud, both the inherited and self acquired powers bubbling inside her like molten lava. 

"Come on now, doll." His voice was as deep as hers, no trace of the fear she loved so much present in his bright blue eyes. So human. "Come back to me" Y/n suddenly forgot her basic instinct to slash first ponder later. "That's it, that's a good doll." Steve's coaxing was ironic to say the least. For she looked nothing like the name he called her. 

Must not hurt him. 

The witch didn't know why, but the same thing played over and over in her foggy head like a mantra. Must not do anything to him. It wasn't like it would be fun anyways. 

Because he was not begging. He was not scared. Not even close. 

Steve clicked his tongue once he had finally eased her on the ground in front of him slowly and carefully. "Look at yourself, bunny. You are not allowed to go out to play alone, remember?" He knew she didn't. Not yet. Not in this state. But this was the way. The trick. It was a sequence he had perfected over the years since he first caught her during one of her rampages.

Y/n had looked so beautiful in her rotten glory. So radiant under the silver moon of that night, her hair swaying along the cool winter breeze, skin decorated by the raining snow as she slow danced by herself in the air amidst the havoc that she had caused by flooding the village with blood that night. Oh, how beautifully the red on her skin had contrasted the snowflakes clinging to her. The young witch was basking in the chaos and smiling to herself as she chewed on a piece of flesh, humming that sweet melody he had loved from that night on. One that came with a price everytime. One that he had to suppress in order to protect the universe around them. Each time he would have to choke his own hummingbird dead to silence to rescue the universe from the brute wrath it accompanied. 

But it rose from the ashes like a phoenix. Every single time. 

"Pretty eyes" was Y/n's only resolve after she tried to find strength within herself to do something but felt herself paralyzed under his soft gaze that she knew was everything but. A giggle escaped her as her index finger reached out for his eyebrow, another one accompanying the first one when he lightly smiled in response to the girl tracing his features out with the claws she had for hands. "Nice man?" She wondered aloud, voice suddenly childish. Vulnerable. 

Exactly how he had moulded her for himself all those years dating back to the night he had caught her along his hunting party. 

"Now I have to kill all these people because of you, doll." Small cries arose from the group that had been watching the scene unfolding in front of them in horror.

No one could ever find out that the great Steve Rogers could, indeed, not completely control the occasional power outbursts of the witch he had for a house pet. Where her lack of experience and training with the powers she had been blessed with by birth as well as the ones she had developed by doing small spells and tricks would overcome her conscious, blinding her humanity as the smell of fear, melodies of pained screams and thundering of strained hearts replace every other thought. 

And that was why she needed her owner, the witch hunter, both her captor and savior, Steve, to bring her back to him every time it happened. To remind her of all that mattered. All that was worth killing the dark sorceress every time she mustered enough energy to attempt a take over. 

It had been easier said than done. But he had centuries to perfect her for himself. What was lifetimes to many around them were mere moments to the two. The world was theirs if they wanted it. Y/n as the brainless executionist while Steve held her leash. But they only took what they wanted, leaving the world to its own devices for the sake of amusement as the hunter made it a point to keep their true identities unknown except to those in his order. 

"I can do that for you~" Y/n giggled as she waved her hand in the air and silenced the people trapped in the ditch. She could not exactly recognize him. But she knew not to hurt him. Her power drunk mind did not even go there. Instead she poked at him in curiousity, narrowing her eyes at him before licking her lips as she tried to make sense of her thoughts. Something impossible for her in this state. 

Years of conditioning can do that even to the most powerful of witches at their most supreme. Especially young and impressionable ones. 

"Dumb bunny" Steve clicked his tongue again as he suddenly pushed at the girl's chest, earning a gasp even in her horrifyingly elevated state. She fell on her ass against the crunchy leaves with a thud. Must not use powers against him. She wanted to scream and ask why. But instead, Y/n maintained her position on the ground, letting him kick her legs apart as he slowly lowered himself on his knees between them. 

"You fuck me?" The girl barely form coherent sentences against him, monstrous eyes blinking up at him like those of an innocent doe, dumbly tilting her head to the side as her upper body rested against her elbows. 

"Dumb bunnies like yourself need to be fucked back into the pathetic little places, remember?" Steve was calm as he spoke to her in a mentor-like voice, undoing his pants before curling the bottom side of her panties that she wore under her blood stained sundress between his fingers before ripping them off. 

"I am dumb bunny?" Y/n's gravel-like voice was in stark contrast to her tone. 

"One that gets wet every time she slaughters a village, apparently" Steve sniffed the torn fabrics in his hand before he put them aside, gripping the witch's thighs before pulling her closer. She blushed under the blood covering her face, biting her lip as she stared at him through 'shy' eyes. "You're lucky you have me, you know?" Aligning himself against her trained entrance, the man controlled the waver that threatened to take over her voice. 

The trick was to appear stronger than her. Unaffected and better. As if she was nothing if not for his mercy. 

Exactly like he had taught her. 

To the point where his 'teachings' eventually started to bleed into her hazed mind during these occurrences. 

The young witch hadn't always been this compliant. 

"Because no one else would ever love an abomination like you" were the words that acommaonied his first thrust into her tight but welcoming walls of flesh. "Tsk, you're so pathetic. Going around hurting people like a mad hound." His words were harsh and condescending as he worked his hips, pushing her dress up to reveal her breasts that had bruises of his passion littering them. "You disgust me as you would anyone" Steve's words were brutal. They always had been. 

But they were exactly what Y/n needed. 

What had sheltered her away from a pyre for this long. 

The thick intrusion in the witch's pussy was too much for her to form any words. Not even incoherent ones. Her elbows had given out and she was writhing against the ground now, moaning in pleasure as her claws gripped fistfuls of the dead leaves underneath her, back arched. Steve felt an icy shudder run down the back of his thighs. She was gorgeous in her nudity, glowing under the sun despite being covered in particles of flesh and blood.

"Yet I am so kind. Showing you the benevolence you do not deserve by still giving you shelter, asylum and food" and poison your senses with the craftings of my personal witch. "And what do you do, huh- look at me!" The hunter's voice raised a few octaves as he gripped her jaw to position her face to look at his, slapping her cheek to get her to open her eyes that she had shut in pleasure. "You try to run away from me like an ungrateful bitch?!" Steve pinched her nipples roughly before swatting one of her breasts with the back of his hand, pairing it with a proper slap when his hand boomeranged back. 

"More, more, more~" she hissed out in an animalistic way, the silver in her eyes shining brighter as the black around them seemed to get even darker. "More, more, more- so good~!" 

The man chuckled, shaking his head at the slut he had made out of her. If the girl whom he had trapped all those years ago were to see this right now, she would not believe it. It was how stubborn and egoistic she had been that made the sight before him even better, the knowledge that he had managed to make a puppet out of what had been predicted as the end of the world made him go faster, the skin atop his spine covered in droplets of cold sweat. 

"Say please" Steve growled, taking his cock almost all the way out before slamming it back in, toying with one of her tits as the other held her head in place by her hair. She seemed to be drunk on the pleasure, dark and silver eyes dazed as her red mouth let out lazy and broken words that drowned in her own moans. "Tell me how much you want it and I might consider" a small whine left her when he slowed his hips down for emphasis, enjoying the warmth of her pussy as he waited for her to comply. 

"Give me" he wasn't surprised. The man knew he had not broken her down completely yet. 

"Not when you demand like that, doll." A protestant sniff left her nose as she narrowed her eyes down at him.

"Give. Now!" The hunter slowed his hips down even even more. 

"Not with that attitude, I won't." Steve went to pull away. "Tsk, some things are just shameless. Demanding and bratty like they have any rights" he could barely finish his sentence before she jumped up on him, straddling his thighs as a loud moan escaped her due to his cock that was barely in at this point suddenly pushing all the way back inside her as the tip collided with her sweet spot. 

Other than the rough and quiet exhales of breath that were forcing their way past his lips, Steve was mostly unbothered as he twirled and pinched one of Y/n's nipples, kneading one of her ass cheeks by his other hand while she braced herself by his strong shoulders, chasing her orgasm as loud noises of skin slapping against skin filled the air. 

"You're truly pathetic, you know?" His blue eyes bore into her monstrous ones as he maintained his icy demeanor. "Fucking yourself shamelessly upon a man who could care less about even touching a shadow birthed heretic like you" Y/n did not reply. She wouldn't have been able to even if she wanted to. Instead, she just moaned through her open mouth as she fucked him like an animal, tits bouncing up and down as she felt a tangle of warm knots forming in her abdomen.

"That's right, keep at it" Steve grunted now, feeling himself getting close due to how inhumanly fast the witch was sliding back and forth on his cock, her wetness allowing pleasant access to his ballsack inside her wet cavern. "Such a cock starved imp. Doesn't even care what her dead coven will think if they saw her riding the cock of the man that killed them" nothing but desperate, pained and frustrated grunts left her. 

But she just couldn't cum. 

It wouldn't come. 

"Have had enough of your high cloud yet?" Steve raised an eyebrow, knowing she couldn't cum unless he let her. 

Because if she did, his personal witch would be the next one on a pyre. One whom he had given secret asylum in exchange for personal hexes and crafts.

Y/n's eyebrows furrowed as she seemed to contemplate for a few moments, crying out when she failed to bring herself to an orgasm. "Please…" Was the only thing she could let out. "Please…" The stiffness of her demeanor dissipated a little, so did the unnatural colours in her eyes. "Sir…" Steve couldn't help but smirk. His favourite method of grounding her always worked. 

"Good doll~" she was back on ground before the next breath, her captor on top of her as he trapped her smaller hands above her head, the other hand reaching for her vagina as the hunter cupped the vertical curve between the witch's legs, rubbing circles on her clit by his thumb. "See? Being a good bunny for your Master isn't so bad."

Y/n cried out loud enough for the trees to tremble with the vibrations of her banshee-like shriek, body violently spasming as it tried to break free against his hold on her arms, back arching as she squirted her orgasm out. 

"Thank you, sir! Thank you! Oh, thank you!" The witch cried out, voice not as deep anymore as it came back to her usual one, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure while her teeth nibbled at her lips. Her eyes were almost back to normal and so were her 'claws'. 

"There she is" Steve easily overpowered her now that the worst was over, whatever was still possible being restricted by his firm hold on her wrists which denied her hands any moment. The hunter knew she wouldn't and couldn't hurt him. But a last accidental surge of power might just level the village which would bring people asking questions. "There is my good bunny~" he started to empty his load into her, thrusts slowing down but not halting as she squirmed from the overstimulation, pouting up at him. 

"W- Was I a bad girl again, sir?" Y/n's eyes were finally back to the ones Steve adored. Even if in his own tainted way. She wasn't exactly an angel either. So they made it work. Or rarher, he did. "Hmmm-!" She tried to move her hips away in discomfort as she felt him fuck his seed deeper and deeper up her walls, well aware no consequence would follow.

Unless he wanted it to. 

Letting go of her hands as the hunter knew the witch would keep them in place herself now, he pushed strands of hair clinging to her sweaty face away from it, stroking them as he lazily moved inside her now. Her eyes were sad. 

Oh, he had broken her so good. 

All for him. 

"What d- did I d- do?" He wanted to scoff. The wretch knew exactly what she'd done. She wasn't fooling anyone with her innocent voice and doe eyes after deliberately not taking the potion that delayed these episodes. 

"Nothing a few days in the dungeon won't fix" Steve secured his promise with a chaste kiss against her lips, cupping one of her cheeks before stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. "Nothing I can't fix." 

[georgiapeach30513]

When I Hear Your Name

Summary:  You should have never left.  Things were perfect.

Pairings:  Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit, dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of PTSD, kidnapping, somnophilia, non con/dub con, degradation, bondage, fingering, squirting, creampie, pussy plug, breeding kink, holding people captive, cheating, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.7K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

A/N:  My entry for @the-slumberparty Week 1 Challenge.  My random generator theme was ‘Descent into Madness’ and the setting was ‘Military’.  

Steve Rogers was a lot of things; he was strong, charismatic, a natural leader, righteous, handsome, sweet, and stubborn.  He was different before he went off to war.  He was always about making you giggle.  Holding you tight when you got scared.  His sweet lips nipping at every inch of your skin.  His body had yours memorized.

Things were harder when he came back.  There was this odd quality about him.  He wasn’t mean, he was just…distant.  It was like he was living from afar.  Never completely present with you.  He didn’t talk to you.  Barely looked at you.  He was just there taking up space.

Once upon a time he showered you with gifts.  Even if you didn’t have much, Steve managed to get that diamond bracelet that you had eyed for years.  Surprised you with his own homemade bouquets of flowers.  It became a weekly thing to see these adorable, if not crudely put together, flowers.  He tried, and that’s all you cared about.  Even would hand deliver them.

His romance was gone, as was his will to enjoy life.  There was no passion behind his actions.  He was but a meat suit with little to no emotions.  No excitement, no love, no passion.  It was infuriating.  It was worse seeing Steve like that.  You couldn’t explain it.  Couldn’t make sense out of it.  And you felt yourself losing your joy everyday.  

You tried getting him the help he needed.  Tried to be there for him, but it wasn’t enough.  

“Moonbeam,” Bucky whispered in your ear as the two of you watched a blank Steve staring up at the ceiling, “you don’t deserve this.”

“But…I love him,” you look up at Bucky, and only then does Steve stir.  His eyes glaring straight at his best friend.  “He doesn’t deserve this either.  Bucky, what am I supposed to do?  He barely eats or sleeps.  Won’t go to therapy.  Won’t talk to me.  I want our life back.”

“Have you ever thought it wasn’t coming back?” Steve sits up in the bed, and you flinch, taking a step towards him.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, he sighs, leaning more into it.  This was proof he was still in there.  He always leaned into your touch.  You pet around his face, giving him a tearful smile when he looks up at you.  Opening his mouth, but no words came out.  It was heartbreaking to see this great man become a ghost of his former self.  No smiles were ever present on his beautiful face.  He was lost.

“Moonbeam,” Bucky says again when you turn to leave.  Steve’s feet bounced his legs around, but you couldn’t do it anymore.  It was eating away at your soul.  Your hope was nearly dwindled down to nothing.  

“Moonbeam?” Bucky races out to grab your arm, “Where are you going?”

“Back home, Buck.  I can’t,” you cry up at him, giving him a tight hug.  Blind to your boyfriend’s darkened eyes peering at the two of you.  “I tried.  He’s never coming back is he?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.”

“I hope he does.  I hope he finds himself.  But I can’t do this.  I can’t see him like this anymore,” giving him a kiss to his cheek, you leave everything behind.  You didn’t need a reminder of how happy your life was.  How many dreams you and Steve had made come true, and how many you were still waiting on.  You wiped your hands clean, and it was the hardest thing you had ever done.

“What did you do?” Steve screams as he races towards Bucky.  “She left me, and it’s all your fault!” He knocks Bucky onto the floor, crawling over him to slam his head into the floor over and over again.  “You did this!”

“You did this, Steve!  She wants you, and you won’t fix it!”

“I can’t.”

——

“You got another package,” the girl at the front desk snips, smacking her gum, feigning annoyance.  “You know the boss is mad about all these personal deliveries.”

“They’re not personal when I don’t know who’s sending them,” opening the box, you gasp at the forever roses that were supposed to keep for over a year, and one in the center was a pure gold rose.  

‘I’ll love you until the last rose dies,’ ugh, so cliche.  If this was for you, he didn’t know you at all.

“You have no idea who’s sending you these,” she smacks her gum right beside you, and you have to silently count to ten.

“Nope.  Not even dating.  Probably someone gave them the wrong place of work.  Throw it away,” you didn’t care about gifts anymore anyways.  You didn’t care about love or happily ever after.  You cared about peace, and yourself.  You vowed to never fall in love again.  And you wouldn’t

“Some man just spent hundreds of dollars and you think he doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope.  Clearly a mistake.”

“Your name is on the address,” giving you an incredulous look.  She believed you were bullshitting her and everyone in this office.  “No man is going to go out of his way to do this, along with flowers every Friday, if he wasn’t sure it was you.”

“What?” You stop in your tracks, turning back to look at her.  “What did you say?”

“You get flowers sent to you every Friday,” she blows a giant bubble with her gum, and you march back to the box, grabbing it up.  “So you know who sent them?”

“Nope,” you lie.  It wouldn’t be Steve.  This was a cruel joke.  You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few years.  These weren’t hand delivered like Steve did it.  They had it all wrong.  

You go out the back door, and slam the box into the garbage.  Your chest heaves with frustration.  “God, I can’t get away from him.”

“Because you weren’t meant to,” before you can scream, someone’s thick hand has been placed around your mouth as he drags you into a van.  You try kicking and screaming.  Try for anyone to get your attention, but it was useless.  

“Any second now,” your assailant grunts as your vision goes blurry.  “There ya go,” he hums, watching your eyes flutter close.  “Sweet dreams, Moonbeam.”

——

Your eyes pop open quickly, as you blink your vision back into view.  Tugging at your arms above your head, and your feet, but you were not going anywhere.  Hands tied above your head, while your legs were spread eagle.  Taking a deep breath to keep from crying, you look around.  

“Welcome home, darling,” Steve says sweetly, walking into the bedroom with a glass of water.  “I worried that you weren’t going to wake up.  It had been too long.  Your pulse was still steady.  You must have needed that extra bit of sleep.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Your voice was hoarse, like you had been screaming.  “Why am I naked?”

“Why are you asking questions?  You’re home, you should be happy.  Look, I’m talking to you again.  I tried sending you flowers, you didn’t thank me.  I had plans to hold you while we walked on the beach and talk for hours, but you didn’t call.  Had this big night planned for a romantic dinner, and then to take you dancing, but…yeah, you didn’t reach out to me.  So, I had to do what I had to do.  We’ve traded diamond bracelets for leather cuffs,” he gives the binds on your wrist a little tap.

“And they look so pretty on you.  Water?” You shake your head no, but he lowers a straw to you anyways.  “I suggest you drink some water.  You’re tired,” with his free hand he slaps at your core, chuckling when you yip.  

“What have you done?”

“You took too long to wake up.  I wanted what you promised was mine,” you cock up your eyebrow, needing him to go on, “You said that your pussy belonged to me.  So I took it.”

“You fucked me while I slept?” You growl up at him.  Disgusted that this was the man you had once loved.

“Yeah,” he answers easily.  “It’s my pussy.  It was just glistening with your juices.  If you weren’t turned on why were you so fucking wet?  Face it, Moonbeam, that cunt was made for me.  So I gave her what she wanted.  You needed a good hard fucking.  You were pitiful.  You still say my name in your sleep, too.  You know that?”

“Who was driving the van?”

“Hmm?” Steve smiles, looking down the expanse of your body.  Cupping your mound, moaning at the feeling of you, “Still wet.  You’re a slut for me, you know?” His hand slides up and down your split, and you try not to react, but damn if it didn’t feel good.  He knew your body.  Steve studied your body like he was being graded, this didn’t change.

“Who was driving the van?  There was someone else.  Was it Bucky?” You croak, letting a desperate mewl rise up out of your chest.  

“Why do you care so much about fucking Bucky?”

“I didn’t say anything about fucking Bucky.  I asked who was driving the fucking van,” Bucky was a sore subject for him.  His hand moves a bit faster.  A bit too hard on your sensitive nub.  “Steve,” you whine, anything had to be better than this.  “Steve, I wanna feel you.”

“No, you don’t.  You’re asking about Bucky.”

“No.  I…uh…I just wanted to know who was with you.  But…all I want right now is you.  I forgot what you felt like, and,” you bite at your lip as the pleasure starts to build up.  Getting a devilish smile from Steve.  He slows down his motions more, and you whimper out his name.  “Steve, I can’t remember.”

“I’ll make sure you remember.  I’ll make sure you feel me for a month.  You’ll take a step and be so sore that you’ll know my cock was buried so deep in your greedy little cunt.”

“Yes!  Yes, that’s…that’s exactly what I want.  Steve,” you breathlessly answer when he takes off his shirt.  Silver scars crisscross over his arm, and you can’t stop staring at the odd pattern of them.  

“Steve,” moaning out his name when he jerks his pants down.  His cock springing free, looking just as godlike as him.  Dripping of precum, and he crawls in between your legs.  Rubbing his tip through your arousal before slapping his cock over your clit.  “Steve!”

He continues playing with you, until strings of sticky arousal connect the two of you, and you jerk at your cuffs, needing to feel him.  “Yeah, you get forced to take whatever I give you,” he laughs as you try to bring your thighs together.  “Pathetic.  Trying to deny yourself an orgasm,” he tsks at you, changing to slapping you with his hand.

The sharpness was sending euphoria that you had never felt through every inch of your body.  Flowing through you like your blood.  Continuing until you were screaming out his name, and he crams two fingers into your tight channel.  Curling his fingers as he stabs into you.  There was no time to rest as he chases another high for you.

Your cunt was making the most vulgar squelching sounds that made his eyes roll into the back of his head.  The noise echoing through the rest of the house, and Steve hoped he heard.  “Just.  Let.  Go,” he demands, letting his calloused fingers hit over a sensitive spot in your core.  

“It’s…it’s….there she fucking is!” Steve screams as you squirt onto his chest.  Your juices being catapulted to your stomach, and still he didn’t stop.  “One more time.  Then I’ll give you what you need.  Go…on,” he pulls his hand out while you soak his thigh.

At lightning speed he had his cock driving into you.  Hips thrusting his fat cock in your warmth.  You were already speaking in tongues.  Head tilted back as you worshiped at the altar of Steven Grant Rogers.  My god, he was hitting every single spot that you had.  This wasn't sweet love making.  This was an urgent need to have you say his name like a prayer screaming off your lips.  A deep desire to destroy you, break you, so that you would never leave him again.

More arousal spews out from around his length as you clench down.  Your walls missed him.  And they were hugging him tightly.  So tight you start to see stars.  “Don’t you give out on me.  I missed your pretty eyes!  Missed the way you looked when you were taking my cock.  Look at you…right where you were made to be, taking my cock.  My little sexdoll.  It’s what you were designed for, huh?”

You give him a head nod, trying to catch your breath.  It was too much.  “I told you to drink your water.  Maybe next time you’ll listen.  Molded to my cock.  Gonna keep you in here so I can play with you whenever I want, Moonbeam.  I do miss the way you scratched down my back though. Just like you’re doing with your hands.”

It was true, you had your hands in a fist so tight, your nails had brought blood to your palms.  “Fuck,” Steve growls, railing into you harder.  “One day, when you don’t try to leave me, I’ll let you ride on top of me.  Okay?  Let that pretty little ass ride on my dick.”

“Steve!”

“Yeah, I know.  I know, you missed me just as much as your pussy.  I mean, my pussy.  She was always mine, wasn’t she?”

“Yes!  Yes!  Yes!” You scream out again as he drives into you hard.  Making your body jump up the bed.  You felt him in your throat, and you wanted more.  “Steve!”

“I know!  Right…there!” One more final thrust has you both coming hard.  Your creams mix together as Steve tries to catch his breath.  “Beautiful.  Now,” he groans, pulling out of you.  His hand shoves up against your ruined cunt and he reaches over to the bedside drawer, grabbing a plug that he shoves into your mouth.

“This is extra important,” he drags it down your body before removing his hand, and pushing it into your sex.  “There, that will keep that in there while I take care of something.  When you have my child, you’ll never want to leave.  We’ll become a family again.”

He kisses you hard on the lips before leaving you in a state of partially awake, and halfway asleep.  Walking down to the basement where he sees the chair, and two angry glowing eyes.  “See?  I told you she wanted me.  Now, I’m going to take your muzzle off and feed you.  When she stays freely, I’ll let you go.  Hey!” He shouts when Bucky snaps his teeth at him.

“Is that anyway to treat me?  I know you two had something going on.  This is to make sure you never think about fucking Moonbeam again.”

“It’s an expression.  I didn’t mean I wanted to fuck her.”

“Liar!” Steve shouts, clenching his fists together.  “She even said fucking Bucky.”

“I’ve never touched her!”

“Eh!” Steve holds up a glass of water with a straw, “Comply, soldier.  Quit fighting it.”

“You’ve gone fucking mad, Steve.  Let her help you.”

“I am,” Steve’s mouth turns up into a creepy smile as he puts the straw to Bucky’s mouth, “She’s going to give me babies.  I have my cum waiting in her snatch right now.  She’ll never leave.  And neither will you.  Not until you comply,” there was no use.  Bucky knew that Steve would keep him here until he gave him what he wanted.  It was over.

“Steve!” You scream from upstairs.  “Steve, please, don’t keep me here!  My parents have…they have…Steve!  I have somebody who needs me,” Steve slams the glass on the ground, knocking Bucky’s chair over.

“What was it that you didn’t do again?”

“I didn’t know, Steve!  I didn’t know!” Setting him back up right, Steve stomps up the stairs.  “Steve, let her go!  Steve!” Was the last thing Steve listened to before slamming the door closed, leaving Bucky to wonder, and Steve to brood, while you prayed you could get out of this.  Maybe.  At least this time you had a reason to fight, and a bigger reason to leave.  He could never break you.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @softsatnin @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss​ @navybrat817​ @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

[goodgirlofglory]

In the balance - Chapter 8: Ragged depths

Chapter 7

/Masterpost/

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 5,2k

Warnings: non-con (series), dub-con (series), explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of blood, graphic descriptions of violence and death, like gnarly stuff (at least as gnarly as I've ever written), smut, oral (f recieving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, daddy kink.

Summary: Lost in an endless, repetitive dream of luxury and pleasure in Steve's arms, finally accepting of your fate and the pregnancy you can no longer hope to terminate, you think all is safe and well - until strangers appear in the middle of the night. Though these strangers ignite fear in you, witnessing the way Steve deposes of them might be what ignites true fear in you...

Note: WOOOO CHILD, finally got around to finishing this chapter. Sorry for the wait and thank you for the patience from those of you still following this series and asking for updates. Love you🫶

A special thanks to this ask that inspired this chapter. Really, I just took dear anons idead and ran with it😘😘

This shit it DARK! Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to interact if the content of the warnings upset you!

Minors DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!!🚫

Reblogs, likes, replies and asks are amazing🦋

“That’s it, baby, squeeze my cock just like that,” Steve groaned as he pounded into you from behind. You could barely manage a gasping intake of breath as his cock hit that spot inside you dead-on and you arched your back on instinct, trying to get him deeper. Steve groaned approvingly, gripping your hips tighter as he speared you harder. 

It was the third time that day, this time bent over the kitchen table. It had only taken a look and the grazing of your fingers as Steve handed you your tea. Next thing you knew, your panties were down around your ankles, your dress hiked up over your head and you were being fucked within an inch of your life, completely naked, bent over the table. The cool air from the open patio door sent goosebumps over your exposed skin, and the obscene slick between your legs squelched in between Steve’s grunts and your gasping moans. Steve had his pants down around his ankles, and he was bent over you, mouthing aggressively at your neck. 

You whined as another pounding wave of pleasure rippled through you, threatening to take your knees out. Steve’s hands wound around to your rounded belly, stroking over the bump and groaning against the nape of your neck, pushing his face into your hair and taking in greedy gulps of your air, and you flushed at the aggressive way he was smelling you, your hormones no doubt driving his frenzy higher.

“You’re so gorgeous like this, all round and heavy with my baby” he growled, and the ownership in his voice made you keen. “Walking around like this, letting me see just how much you’ve grown from my seed inside you,” Steve said, nibbling on your ear and the skin below it in a proprietary way. You flushed hot from the top of your head down to your toes, trying to hide your rapidly heating face, the way his praise washed over you like silk, making you thrust your hips back to meet his pelvis. 

“Mmm, did you like the sound of that, baby?” Steve teased, smiling against the clammy skin of your neck, hands coming up to cup your bouncing breasts, teasing the puffy nipples and you wailed, completely beyond words. “Did you?” Steve asked again, slowing his hips down just a tad despite your sound of protest. “Answer me, sugar,” he said sternly, pinching your nipples between thumb and forefinger and your pussy throbbed, a sign you were spiraling towards the edge despite Steve slowing his thrusts. His words whirled around in your mind along with the hormonal arousal constantly begging for release and the way his warm skin felt on yours, the primal position of your fucking, the guttural sounds he made as his hands ran over your pregnant belly while his cock, hard as a rod, pounded into your yielding, wet flesh.His cock was so hard, and you knew you were dripping to the floor. 

Flushing even more profusely, you could only manage a nod, your mouth opening to desperately pull in air. Steve kissed your cheek with an open mouth, messily, moaning approvingly, but he didn’t speed up his thrusts again, and you were about to go insane, your body tense and shivering. 

“I need your words, honey, do you have a few words for daddy?” he asked, sickly sweet as one of his hands moved down to lightly graze your swollen and pulsing clit. You nearly lost your footing again, knees shaking as he teased your clit with his fingertips, hips moving steadily, jolting you forward before you moved back to meet his thrusts, mindlessly seeking more friction to bring you over the edge. Your head was completely empty of coherent thought and he knew it. 

He fucking loved when you got like this, it reminded him of those first times in your apartment, when you’d gone from a shy, terrified little bunny to a drooling, wet, empty-headed, cum-hungry whore just from his cock and words alone. 

He grazed your clit with his fingertips again and you shouted, head hanging low in your embarrassment. “Yes! I l-liked it,” you practically wailed to the floor. Steve cooed appreciatively, voice laced with the tiniest amount of degradation, but didn’t speed up his thrusts and you wanted to throw something.

“Yes what, baby?” he asked pointedly, the hand not teasing your clit to insanity coming up to turn your head up and back to catch his eyes. 

You moaned, feeling the weight of your belly shift with his thrusts, his fingers holding your pleasure so neatly just beyond your reach as they ghosted over your nub, his eyes demanding you lay your soul bare for him, give yourself completely over to his will. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered, tears springing to your eyes at the way rolling shivers of pleasure rippled through you at saying those words, at being made to say those words, to him, while he held your gaze with his stare. 

He growled, eyes holding yours in a tight grip as his hips finally picked up speed, rapidly increasing to the pounding he did before, slamming against that spot inside you you could never reach yourself. 

“Good girl,” he growled, his fingers pressing to your clit, rubbing fast circles and you whined in almost alarm at the pace of which your orgasm welled up inside you. Your whole body tensed up, pussy squeezing Steve’s cock to the point of pain and he gasped. Your orgasm exploded inside you, pulling Steve right over the edge with you. 

“Fuck, just like that. Here it comes, baby,” he gritted out and then you felt the hot flush of his cum shooting inside you, his cock pulsing unevenly as he fucked himself through it, never slowing down. You knew what he was aiming at. 

Completely unable to stop him or yourself, your belly and the weight of both yourself and him pushing down and the way his cock kept ramming you in your post-orgasm sensitivity had you wailing as another string snapped. You squirted, a huge gush that exploded from you and coated both your thighs and Steve’s before splattering to the floor. 

Your body convulsed, only held up by Steve’s strong arms as your mind short-circuited from the pleasure, eyes glued to the sight of your juices wetting the floor below you. 

Something had changed in Steve since that first time he fed from you and fucked you at the same time, a tether snapping. He no longer even tried to control his desire, his demand for your body, your mind, your entire being. He was, in a word, unhinged. His hands practically never left you, always stroking, groping, gripping, rubbing, smacking your ass lightly and pinching your seemingly perpetually peaked and sensitive nipples playfully, smirking like a cat at the way you shivered. The touches would range from light, reverend grazes, like he just needed to reassure himself you were there, and possessive, tight squeezes, like he couldn’t handle not being inside you a moment longer. He usually didn’t wait long before pushing your dress up, tugging your panties off or just to the side and sheathing himself inside you with a brutish grunt. You, in turn, were so swollen and aching and needy - you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to. You needed him, needed his cock, needed him to push you against the nearest surface, keep you there while he took the edge off for the both of you - until your hormones sent the both of you into a frenzy again. 

Later in the evening, Steve had you riding him on the couch. It had started as a lower back massage, but they rarely stayed that way nowadays. Steve was as insatiable as you, and along those first times, your enthusiasm had loosened his tongue. Now he couldn’t seem to keep his praise in, making you flush hot or preen or go all shy from the filth that spewed from him. 

“Yes, that’s it baby, ride that cock, take what’s yours. You want my cum, baby? Want to milk my cock while I milk you?” he asked on a gasp as you bounced on him as good as you could with your belly rounded, still shiny from the oil he’d rubbbed into it earlier. He bent forward and took one of your leaking nipples into his mouth, his cock throbbing inside you as he fed from you while looking up into your eyes through his thick, long lashes. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as he groaned, the vibrations going through your tender flesh, and sweat covered your brow as you spasmed on his cock, pussy helplessly clamping down. Steve gasped away from your breast, your milk leaking out and soaking his beard as he bent up to kiss you with a mouthful of milk. He seemed to like feeding it back to you, making out while the sweet taste of it lingered between you, completely obliterating any line of decency, sending you head first into heady depravity in that same possessive way he’d always done.

“Here it comes, baby, make sure to keep it all in for daddy,” Steve murmured against your lips before he came, and you were helpless against the lewdness of the new nickname he’d given himself, and how much you secretly liked it. You came with a cry along with him, his thumbs slowly teasing your sensitive nipples, just lingering there, covered in white milk. 

You were floating on the heady cloud of pleasure Steve kept around you at all times. Really, you had nothing else to do all day but wait for your pregnancy to advance, and you both seemed content to just fuck all day, every day. You wondered if Steve missed his job, missed the outside world. You didn’t, had stopped longing for it once Steve had made you see that the only safe thing to do was to be with him. You had everything you needed with him, anything you could want for. Steve loved and took care of you, the mansion provided every piece of food, clothing and entertainment you could wish for. Honestly, if there was anything you were desperate for, it was not to go back to those early days where all you’d been was obsessive, desperate and miserable. Once you saw the only path away from that was with Steve, you’d accepted it, and then the fog of pleasure he’d thrust upon you had wiped out any resistance. 

Steve fucked you everywhere. Under the trees in the garden, mouthing his way down your chest, taking each nipple into his mouth and laving them in generous licks before kissing his way down your rounded belly, stroking it tenderly while kissing it over and over like he just couldn’t believe it was there. It was heady and intense, this obsession with your bump, and you almost felt overwhelmed by it, by the magnitude of his devotion, by how proud and primal it made him. Steve feasted on you. He groaned against your flesh, alternating between sucks and small, teasing licks until you came on his tongue before slipping his cock inside while you were still spasming, a possessive hand on your belly as he rutted deep inside you. 

He fucked you in the shower, joining you in the morning and teasing you to delirium, tweaking your nipples until they were tender and erect, rutting his cock against your lower back until you bucked back against him, slipped a finger down to tease your ass as he thrust into your weeping cunt, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you while whispering filthy nothings into your sensitive ear and made you call him daddy.

You’d catch him watching you with darkened eyes as you waddled along, a hand on your aching lower back, and you’d be all too aware of his keen eyes as you carefully lowered yourself into a chair or the sofa with a groan. Seeing your body changing to adapt to your growing belly seemed to ignite this primal hunger in him, and his hungry stare would in turn ignite shivers on your skin, your own arousal awakening to meet his. He’d ambush you in the hall and go down on you while you leaned against the wall, your moans echoing into the grand staircase. 

“So wet for me, doll. Are you this wet for me?” he’d ask, hot breath gusting over your clit, and all you could do was nod, tugging on his hair to bring his face back to your puffy pussy. 

You welcomed it all. Craved it all. Spent less and less time in clothing, spent more time initiating touches with him. A hand on his chest as you passed him in the kitchen, a brush of fingers over his as you passed him your empty teacup, a deliberate press of your toes against his bulge as he massaged your feet. Anything to incite the desire that welled inside him like a feral tidal wave. Giggling when he gave you that downright hungry gaze before pouncing on you, pressing you into the cushions as much as was comfortable for your bump before peppering your neck with kisses, groaning what a tempting little siren you were.

You didn’t know how much time passed like that - in this pleasure limbo with Steve, where all you did was fuck, eat, sleep and occasionally monitor your pregnancy symptoms. You had one more appointment with Dr. Banner in the clinical office set up in the basement, where he declared you healthy and stable like before. Steve preened and squeezed your hand, all proud and pleased, his other hand stroking lovingly on your bump. Your bloodwork came back with interesting results too, but you understood none of it. Steve reassured you all you needed to know was that everything looked fine - better than fine. You were in tip-top shape and the baby was strong and healthy. 

You’d grown to like stroking your bump yourself now, your hand going there of its own accord. It was hard not to get fond of it with the way Steve doted on it, the way he loved you for it, so sweet and reverent, nothing like the harsh and dominating way he’d sometimes been in the past. There hadn’t been any movement in your belly yet, but you trusted it would come soon, a part of you hoping Steve would be there when you first felt that kick. A part of you started to wonder just what life would be like once the child was born. 

Life in the mansion mellowed out to a hazy, pleasure-filled dream, the days melting together even as you passed your seven months milestone of the pregnancy. It hit you that even if you gave birth now, the child would probably survive. When you’d told Steve he’d kissed you soundly, grinning from ear to ear while telling you it’d probably survived a lot earlier than this, considering it was his baby. You found yourself swatting his arm reproachfully for his cockiness, but couldn’t contain your smile as he laughed and insinuated his face into the crook of your neck to kiss your skin, pulling you closer to him so your bump was firmly pressed against his chiseled torso, warm and snug. 

Though Steve was adamant you get enough sleep, you would sometimes find yourself awakening in the middle of the night to him kissing down your body, hungry and heady. You never complained, you were so fucking horny all the time it didn’t take long before you were keening needily for him, writhing on the sheets as he licked and sucked at your pussy. Tonight was one of those nights, and the moonlight cast a silvery blue light on the calm bedroom as Steve kissed over your bump, broad hands lifting it, helping you turn to lay on your back so he could get in between your thighs. You sighed, arousal welling up like a wave inside you, slow and sluggish and pulsing languidly as he pressed his face to your mound and started licking your clit teasingly. 

Breathy sounds escaped you as you lay there, half-asleep still, riding the pleasant sensations coursing along in your veins. Time slipped away from you in these dreamlike hours, and you were getting into it, moving your hips as much as you could to help create friction on your needy parts when Steve’s head unexpectedly and abruptly disappeared from your wet cunt. Thinking he was teasing you, you lifted your hips in search of his mouth when his hand on your hips stilled you, hard and urgent.

A ping of alarm set off in the back of your mind, and you opened your eyes to peer down. Steve was on his knees in the bed, head turned towards the open doors to the bedroom, so still it was almost like he was a statue. Something was off.

“Ste-” you started to ask, but was cut off by him turning his head and lifting a finger to press to his lips, eye stark and wide in the silence of the night. You could hear nothing but your own breathing. 

Steve crawled up the bed to speak close to your ear, and you were astonished by the fact that he made no sound whatsoever, his limbs in the sheets didn’t even seem to make any noise. Distant questions of Steve’s profession whispered in the far expanses of your mind, questions you hadn’t pondered in months. 

“Stay here, don’t make a sound, I’ll be right back,” he whispered in your ear. You nodded, a kernel of fear catching on fire in your chest. It wasn’t like you could run very well in this condition. You remembered that first night he’d appeared in your apartment, the wound on his shoulder, how he said he’d gotten it from some man with a sword. 

Steve got out of the bed, only clad in a pair of gray boxer shorts and padded on soundless, bare feet to the door, peered subtly out into the hallway and then disappeared. 

Your heart was a rapidly growing thump in your chest and you lay as frozen as you could, listening and listening, straining to hear even a single thing in the dead silent night. 

Then the sound of an explosion sounded from the far side of the mansion, and all at once, the sound of shouts, gunshots, wood breaking and glass shattering filled the air. The blood in your veins turned to ice as sudden, unexpected fear spread in your body. It was happening on the lower floor, but you still felt the sudden panic of danger like a clammy film on your skin, constricting the air around you til you couldn’t breathe properly. Steve told you to wait here, to keep quiet, but as more explosions and larger sounds of shouting sounded, you found yourself propelled out of the bed, movements slow and halting as you moved with your heavily pregnant body. You were completely naked, and as you padded over to grab your robe from the hook near the bathroom door and slung it on, a booming sound of helicopter blades whipping the air appeared quicker than should’ve been possible. 

Then the room was flooded with harsh light, and you whirled around to see several bright spots of light outside the window across the room, whipping to the bed before moving around the room. You knew instantly you needed to move, to not let those searching lights find you, and instinct had you bolting through the bathroom and into the hallway through the separate door. Just as you entered the hallway, the sound of splintering and exploding glass sounded from you and Steve’s bedroom and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to not scream in terror. 

You needed to hide, or find Steve, but from the sounds of commotion still coming from the first floor, it sounded like he was occupied fighting several people at once. You ran up the corridor and slipped into the closet at the end, right by the staircase, cramming inside with an array of coats and suit jackets. Your breathing was out of control, heaving, wet, raspy sounds as you fought back tears, your heartbeat in your ears. 

Who were these people? Why were they doing this? 

You heard footsteps pounding down the hall along with shouting voices. You couldn’t hear them clearly, but caught someone telling another that there was “someone here with the target”. You tried to remember if their searching lights had hit you before you ran into the bathroom, but no, they’d had to have seen your clothes or something. Had they come for Steve, then? Why?   

Footsteps descended the staircase and you took in a shaky breath, mind fighting the way you threatened to freeze up in terror. You were safe here, they hadn’t seen you. You just needed to wait it out until Steve took them out. There were so many of them, though, and your legs almost fell out from under you at the thought of Steve not making it. How could you possibly make it on your own then? Terrorizing thoughts filled your mind, of ending up alone after all you’ve been through, alone on the streets, or worse, kidnapped and used for experimentation for the child in your womb - your child. 

Suddenly the door to the closet was wrenched open, and you came face to face with a figure clad in stealth gear, face entirely masked but for his eyes, dark and glaring, massive gun in his hands. He made to grab at you before his eyes shifted down and widened. He staggered back a tiny step as he beheld your pregnant belly, and your hands came up instinctively to cradle it, as if you could protect it that way. 

“G forty eight,” the figure said, still staring down at your body, “found another subject. Woman. P-pregnant, sir,” he said, and there was a tiny tremor in his voice that you didn’t like, like he was pleading for something. 

You stood there frozen staring at him as he listened for whatever answer would come in what you assumed was an earpiece of some kind. But as he made to grab you, grip so tight it hurt around your plump, upper arm, your fight reflex kicked in and you shoved at his chest with everything you had, a small shout of “no” escaping your lips. 

To your utter astonishment, the figure flew back from the force of your shove, clean off his feet and then right down the grand staircase. Your eyes widened to the point of pain as you stood, stunned, and watched his limp form sprawled lifeless at the foot of the stairs. 

Had you done that?

You had no more time to ponder what had just happened. Movement in your peripheral vision had your head whipping to see another masked figure clad in stealth gear appear from your bedroom, running towards you. You had nowhere to run but down the stairs, and on slow, naked feet, you started the descent, for you knew whatever you did, you could not let them get their hands on you. Maybe if you got to the garden you could hide in the abundant shrubberies and hidden pathways. You knew them by heart, and could easily navigate even in the dark of night. 

But as you got to the foot of the stairs and started across the floor towards the living room, you were stopped dead in your tracks by the sight of Steve, still only clad in boxers, fighting two masked strangers at once. He landed a brutal punch to the jaw of one, and you could hear the crunch of bone from where you stood several meters away. Steve turned and kicked the other man in the knee, and your head spun as you saw the knee crack back at an unnatural angle, the man wailing in pain. Steve turned to the other one and grabbed his arm, twisting it clean around without even seeming to try and then threw the man into the nearest wall. The wall had a dent in it as the man slid lifeless to the ground. Steve’s face didn’t even flinch as he dealt all this carnage, his face a smooth mask of calm concentration, and you could feel your stomach churning to a knot as you watched, eyes glued to your man, your sweet, loving, doting man, completely obliterating these strangers, dealing injuries they would probably live with for the rest of their lives. Your blood started roaring in your ears, the room spinning slightly from the onslaught of what you witnessed. 

As Steve went to grab the man with the broken knee, a hand clasped around your arm, breaking you out of your frozen state of observation, and you were pushed down. You slid to your knees, the marble hard under your kneecaps as you cried out more in fear than pain. The man pulled a gun from the belt at his waist and pointed it at you and your life flashed before your eyes, your lungs completely deflating, unable to pull in even an ounce of breath in a sensation of petrified fright you’d never felt before. A sound somewhere between a wail and a whimper left you. 

“Stop or else she gets it,” the man shouted. 

You blinked your eyes, trying to get them to focus, and found Steve, splattered in blood, fists clenched at his sides, staring at the man above you with a sort of menace that had cold shivers running down your sides, sending your instincts into a frenzy. There was death in those eyes. Stone cold, calculated, immovable death. 

The man with the broken knee staggered behind Steve, pulling out a sharp knife that glinted in the dim moonlight pouring in from the windows above the main doors behind you. Your eyes followed the movement, but then struggled to keep up as Steve turned, grabbed the man’s hand and turned it upwards to jab the knife into his own throat. You jolted at the impact, the gurgled gasp the man gave through the mask. Then, Steve moved quicker than humanly possible, and when you next registered his position, he had the man above you by the throat. 

The gun pointed at your head skidded across the floor away from you, and when you looked up, you were first met with the gnarled angles of the fingers on the hand the man had held the gun with. Then, as you raised your eyes, heart in your throat, you saw Steve wrench the knife out of the throat of the man. 

Hot blood jetted out of him and you felt it rain across your face and body in warm, soft splatters. Petrified, mind glossing over in terror, you couldn’t move an inch as Steve, eyes wide with a sort of feral, inhuman fury you’d never seen before, punched his hand into the open gash in the man’s throat, and with a roar, tore his head clean his shoulders with his bare hands. A shrill shriek tore itself from your throat.

A wave of blood spouted from where the man’s head had been and drenched over you, covering your hair, your face and running down between the open flaps of your robe to cover your naked form. You barely managed to close your eyes in time, but your mouth and nose were filled with the unmistakable, overwhelming taste and aroma of warm iron. 

Your mind stopped working then, shutting down completely in order not to take in more of the slaughter around you. Time slowed to the sluggish beats of your heart, and Steve’s voice was a far away thing as he called your name. He picked you up and carried you somewhere, but your mind couldn’t decipher where, your body numb and far away from you. Darkness closed around you. Your hands were cold. 

You didn’t realize Steve had locked you in the cupboard under the stairs before he wrenched it open some indiscernible time later and carefully picked you up and carried you up the stairs. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I needed to check if there were any more of them,” he murmured into your head as he carried you into the bathroom and sat you down on the edge of the bathtub before starting the water. 

“You hid me in the cupboard?” you heard yourself asking, though you couldn’t remember telling your mouth to move. 

“Yes.” 

“I tried hiding in the coat closet earlier,” you said, and your voice was a hoarse, timid thing, barely perceptible to yourself. 

Steve appeared before you, eyes gentle as he cupped your face in a hand. 

“You did? Well done, that was a clever thing to do, even though I told you to stay put,” he said. 

“They came in through the window,” you said. 

“I saw. We’ll put you in your own room tonight. But first we need to clean you. Can you stand for me?” he asked, so gentle compared to the brutal, animalistic way he’d dealt with the strangers, how he’d pulled…pulled the head…

You couldn’t finish that thought, only nodded as Steve helped you onto unsteady feet, peeled your soiled robe off you and guided the both of you into the shower. The blood washed off you, coloring the water a faint rusty hue before it whirled down the drain. 

After, Steve lowered you into the bathtub, gently scrubbing your shoulders with a loofa. He didn’t get into it himself and you realized first later that he was probably on alert in case anyone else showed up. No one did, the night was eerily quiet again. 

When Steve had you dressed in a silky nightgown and put you to bed in your old bedroom, the sheets cool and soothing on your skin, you found your voice again. 

“The baby is okay,” you whispered, cradling your belly in your hands again. 

Steve stroked your hair and smiled gently at you. 

“I know. You told me earlier.”

“I did?” You couldn’t remember having said anything about the baby, though your belly felt completely normal, settled and calm, a sturdy weight on your front compared to the way the rest of your body seemed like frayed fringes of nerves and flesh flapping on an invisible wind. 

“Yes, right after. You probably don’t remember since you’re in shock right now,” he said, before sitting down on the floor next to the bed and grasping your hand in his. “I promise I will never let anybody come that close to hurting you again. I’m gonna hunt down anybody that even tries, and gut them. No one will hurt you. Ever. Not as long as I’m around,” he vowed, and the way his eyes shone with a feral intent, so intense you nearly broke away from the eye contact, told you he wasn’t kidding.

Dark unconsciousness took you without contemplation, sucking down your frail mind and numb body to sleep. When you awoke, Steve was sitting on the bed, fully clad. The bright light of the sun in the room told you it was day, and when your mind came to completely, you heard the milling of voices all throughout the house. You jolted instinctively, but Steve’s hand on your shoulder halted you from bolting from the bed. 

“No, sweets, it’s okay. They’re friends, colleagues, here to investigate,” Steve said calmly, and your hand came up to cling to him as you tried to steady your rapidly beating heart. “We’re moving. To a safer place,” Steve explained further, and then movement by the door caught your eye. 

A man, as tall as Steve and as bulky if not more so, with dark, shoulder-length hair and a faint stubble on his chin, stepped into the room. He smiled politely at you and inclined his head at Steve. His eyes were blue, soft and kind as they looked back at you. 

“Y/N, this is my friend Bucky,” Steve said gently, “he’s gonna be helping us out.”

[twjournals]

Forbidden Fruit |||

Warning: dark!criminal!Bucky Barnes x dark!cop!Steve Rogers x fem!reader, eventual non-con/dub-con, possessive/obsessive behavior, jealousy, gun violence, violence in general

Summary: After some time away, the town's golden boy is back to reclaim his title and his girl. Unfortunately for him, trouble has followed him home.

Word Count: 2.7k

series masterlist

Since you had come in late, you figured it was only fair to make up for the hours missed by helping close the diner. It was quiet compared to how business roared during the day, and sometimes you preferred it to your morning shifts just to get away from the usual. That wasn't to say you didn't like your regulars, but certain people did put a damper on things.

You had just checked out the last of your customers for the night. The young couple shuffled out of the booth, leaving behind a few bucks for a tip before heading out the door. "Thank you, guys. Come back and see us." They threw their hand up on their way out.

You moved around the counter to their table, tucking the few bucks away with the rest of your tips and cleaning up the mess. Nat took the opportunity to lock the door and turn off the glowing open sign before anyone else tried to walk in.

It was always good feeling locking up because you knew you didn't have to serve anymore customers.

You raked off the dishes with a fork into the floor before taking the back to the kitchen for Pietro to wash with the rest of the dishes.

"Good news. This is it." You assured. He thanked you kindly before taking the last of the dishes. You returned to the table afterwards.

You often wondered how Wanda and Pietro made it through their shifts without bickering. Especially for as long as you had known them, but you guessed being on two separate ends of the building helped too.

"Freedommmm." Nat threw her arms up, earning a laugh from you and Wanda.

She smiled in response before plopping down in the booth with Wanda to help her fold up some silverware. You wiped down the table and seats while listening to them create small talk.

You glanced out the window at the dark street. Home wasn't far from the diner, but considering it was dark, it only had the walk seem longer. Even having known the people in the town as long as you had, you were fond of the idea of walking home in night.

"No, Nat. Seriously you should have seen him, I don't know what came over him. I've never seen Steve like that." Wanda attempted to talk quietly even though you could still her. Maybe in a busy restaurant she might have went unheard.

You peaked over the booth you were cleaning at them. By the way Wanda leaned closer against the table, you could tell she was trying to keep you from hearing.

"So he just broke the glass out of nowhere? No one knows what set him off?" Nat muttered.

God, they were awful at whispering.

"If you ask me, I think Steve saw her with that new guy." Wanda stopped folding, nearly leaning over the table.

"You mean the one with the long hair? Wears the gloves?"

"That's the one." Wanda confirmed.

You rolled your eyes and finished wiping down the booth before you stood up. "You realize I can hear everything you're saying?" You pointed out.

Nat's eyes widen at your words and Wanda stumbled over her own. "Hey- I wasn't saying anything bad. I just know anything to do with him is a sore subject."

You walked around the counter again to wash your hands in the sink. You glanced at her as you dried your hands. "I don't care who you talk about. I can handle hearing about my ex." You assured. It was the truth, for the most part.

You moved over to the register, opening it to count down your drawer. You sat the till on the counter and shuffled through the money, counting in your head.

Nat spoke up from her seat. "I can't be the only one who thinks he's been a little different since that new guy came around."

"Oh no, I thought so too." Wanda admitted.

I paused counting. "Bucky?"

They both look at each other smirking slightly.

You rolled your eyes when you noticed. "You guys are awful." You mutter and shook your head. What number were you even on again? Oh, right. And you start back where you left off.

"I mean does it not seem that way to you?"

You sighed. You were never gonna get this done. "He's a customer. I haven't even been out with the guy. He gave me one ride to work, and that was only because I was on the side of the road."

"I offered to send the guys." Wanda reminded you.

"I would rather die."

They both burst out in laughter and you laughed a little yourself. Maybe it was a bit dramatic, but you were partly serious. You didn't want to give your ex the satisfaction of saving the day after he was to blame for many previous ruined ones. Like he was some hero or something.

"But seriously, I would rather walk than have to be in the same vehicle as him. I don't need his help." You admitted.

"Fair enough." Nat nodded while she proceeded to fold up some silverware. "Bucky is so cute though. I envy you. I'm gonna need to pop my own tire on the way to work and see if the hunk comes to my rescue."

Wanda laughed and you rolled your eyes. "Hey, now. Wait for a shift with Y/n before you do that. Ya know, just in case he doesn't come."

"Or do you think I should get under the hood? I'm just trying to figure out the best approach."

You set the cash aside, throwing a rag at Wanda and making them both laugh harder. "Seriously the worst."

--

"You sure it's not a problem? I can walk if it is. It's not big deal." You asked as you, Wanda, Nat, and Pietro exit the diner. You stopped for a moment to lock the door.

"You know it's not a problem." She assured. Nat and Pietro said their goodbyes before parting ways to their own cars, leaving you and Wanda on your own.

"I have tomorrow off, so I should have my car back then. Hopefully it won't cost me an arm and a leg." You said as you walked with her the rest of the way to her car.

"It's not a problem. You know I'd give you a ride any day." She looked over the roof of her car at you and unlocking the car.

You smile while reaching for the door, pausing when you hear a car pulling in over your shoulder.

"Is it not obvious we're closed?" You commented, glancing over at Wanda who stared behind you before giving you a look. You knew that look. It was one you had been all too familiar with lately and you sighed. You heard the car door open and shut behind you before you turned to confirm your suspicions.

"Wanda." Steve greeted Wanda with a smile before his eyes finally fell on you. This was currently new for him. He was stepping up his game from keeping an eye on you at the diner to stalking you out in the parking lot.

He didn't greet you though; only stared until you shifted awkwardly under his gaze. What could he want at this time of night? You were just trying to get home.

"Wanda," Steve finally broke the silence. "Do you mind if I talk to Y/n alone for a moment?"

He glanced at her over the roof and she looked at you for an answer. You gave a small nod before Wanda climbed into the car.

Steve didn't say anything, but you could tell he was searching for the words to say. You leaned back against the side of the car with your eyes on the pavement as you listened to the crickets.

"If I asked you a favor, would you listen?" He finally said.

You pulled your eyes to meet his. They were already staring at you, but you were almost positive they had been this whole time.

"What?"

"If asked you to do something for me, well for yourself really, would you listen to me?" He tried again.

You stare at him for a moment, watching him moving to lean beside you. So close if it wasn't for the inch between you, your arms would've been touching. "I'm sure I can guess what this is about."

"I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't think it was serious."

"I'm sure."

He didn't have to say anything for you to know where this conversation was going.

He shot you a look. "I just don't get a good feeling about this, Y/n. I can tell you guys are getting close, and if I'm being honest I don't think Bucky is a good person."

You knew that was coming, but who was he to tell you who you could befriend? "Do you know him?"

"No."

Because that makes perfect sense, right? "Have you talked to him before?"

"No." He answered again.

Your patience was starting to run thin already. Steve was the same guy who proposed to you, only to realize after some time this small town life would never be enough for him. Now here he was asking you to stay away from a man you hardly had anything to do with aside from serving him.

"I don't understand you." You shook your head in disbelief. "This is my job, Steve. He's a customer and I can't stop him from coming here just because you're unhappy. And here you are telling me about this feeling you have toward him, but you can't tell me a thing about him that makes him a bad person. Can you tell me how that makes sense?"

You moved off of the side of the car to face him.

He opened his mouth slightly, trying to figure out what to say. "I can't explain it. I really just need you to trust me." He looked down.

You stared at him in disbelief. "No."

His eyes shot up.

"I'm not going to just trust you, because I remember where that got me."

"I don't know how many times I can say I'm sorry. All I've done is apologize since I've been back. All I'm asking is this one simple thing. Just stay away from him. If all you do is serve him, I don't see why it would be so hard for someone else to take his table." Steve pushed off of the car, standing just a step away.

"So because he's new to town, that means he's dangerous? Oh Heavens, why is anyone serving him then?" You gasped dramatically, putting your hand on your chest.

He ran his finger through his dark blonde hair, pushing it off of his forehead in frustration, pacing slightly in front of you. "I am trying to protect you."

"I can take care of myself. I don't need you to protect me, Steve." You argued back. He had some nerve asking anything from you after everything he had put you through. You finally rolled your eyes, pushing past him to the car. Fuck him and fuck whatever he was feeling.

You paused when you opened the door. "You know what that feeling is, Steve? That's a realization. Not some bad vibe, it's the realization that Bucky is probably better than you'll ever be."

His jaw ticked in anger, watching you starting to get in the car. "I'm just doing my job."

You held onto the door, turning to look at him. "You want to do your job, go patrol and stop stalking me."

He wished he could explain how wrong you were. He wished he would tell you that the real reality of things was nowhere near your bullshit assumption. Bucky was dangerous, and he still is.

Steve stood in the parking lot even after Wanda was driving away.

Why did you always have to be so damn stubborn? He stared after the car until the lights disappeared over the hill.

His thoughts were interrupted by slow clapping and his hand shot up to rest on his gun, staring in the direction the sound was coming from until a shadow slowly moved from the dark.

"I've gotta say, you put on one hell of a show." Bucky chuckled while he lifted his hands for Steve to see them.

"What are you doing here?" Steve demanded, his hand slowly curling around the gun on his side.

"Moving on. Is that not what we agreed on?" Bucky responded innocently. " But ya know it doesn't look like you're doing much of that." He pointed out while he stepped one foot in front of the other.

Steve pulled his gun from the holster, pointing it right at Bucky but his smirk never lessened.

"Oh come on, Rogers. Is that any way to greet your partner?"

"Oh sorry. Go to hell. Is that better." He spat.

Bucky threw his head back with an amused laugh. " Funny, I thought I was already there. I mean the way you trash talked this town, I expected worse honestly. But I see why you came back." Steve narrowed his eyes. "The whole uniform, the fancy squad car, even a gun. This town must really take kindly to criminals." He gestures toward Steve.

He clenched his jaw. Just pull the trigger. He told himself. It would solve everyone's problems.

"Oh..." Bucky started to bring his hand to his mouth, acting surprised. "They don't know, do they?" He tilted his head.

Steve took the gun off of safety so Bucky knew he wasn't playing around. Nor was he going to feed into his bullshit. He stepped closer to Bucky, pointing the gun right at his head. At this point, he didn't care who saw if anyone did.

"Go on." Bucky encouraged. "Pull the trigger. We both know you can. Let's just hope you have the plan this time. This is a pretty public place, Steve. I mean between someone seeing, all the blood you're going to have to clean up, an explanation for my disappearance. How about my body, Stevie? How do you plan on getting rid of my body?"

Steve was gritting his teeth so hard he was amazed they weren't broken.

Just do it. Fuck! Just fucking do it.

No, he's right. You'll never get away with this. Not here.

"Do it!" Bucky raised his voice. He wished he could, but he couldn't. Like he wasn't already regretting every mistake he ever made after Y/n, but he was really regretting ever befriending Bucky. If he had been on his own, it wouldn't have took long for him to come back home. Everything would have fallen back into place and Y/n would have eventually forgive him for ever leaving. Steve slowly released the gun, putting it down. "Pussy."

He knew it would be in his best interest to keep his hands to himself regardless of how hard he wanted to punch Bucky, just to knock the fucking smile off of his face. And maybe if he was lucky break a couple of teeth. He slowly put his gun back in the holster.

"She makes you soft." Bucky realized. Steve lifted his head to look at Bucky. "That's her, isn't it? That girl you always talked about?"

"Bucky." He warned. "If you touch her, I- I swear to God-"

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "We've shared before. What's the difference?"

Steve couldn't stop himself from grabbing Bucky by the collar of his jacket, bringing him nose to nose with him. "Stay away from her."

The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk.

"I'm so fucking serious. Don't lay a hand on her. This wasn't apart of the deal."

"Oh, fuck the deal, Rogers. You left me in the dirt while you alpha it up here playing the town's hero. If you think for a second they would have gave you that badge knowing you're a fucking murderer. If it wasn't for me, none of this would be possible for you. Don't you see that? That golden boy reputation gets you everything. But it doesn't get you her." Steve's fists were clenched around his collar, the corner of his lip twitching in anger.

"Bucky-"

"Shut the fuck up." He growled before shoving Steve off of him hard and causing Steve to stumble over his feet a little before regaining his balance. Steve felt defeated. All he wanted to do was get his life together and move on, but Bucky just had to follow him home. "Do yourself a favor and stay out of my way."

tag: @cynic-spirit @naniky @mrsbarnesx @mansaaay @caramelcandescence@candy3002 @onlyjamesbarnes @quethekillerqueen @siriusjohnpotter @empath-bunny @cjand10 @burnoutbo @galacticyearning @lou-la-lou @kvzctam @jevans2

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘

Pairing; Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings; smut, dark themes, non con, breeding kink, oral- both receiving, degrading, size difference, unbalanced power dynamic, huge daddy kink, choking- to the point reader can’t breathe, dumbification, dacryphillia, spanking, steve is very dark in this, no aftercare!! i think thats it? Minors please DNI!!!!!

Summary; Steve Rogers, your boyfriend, the man everybody loved, his soul soft, standing against all evils. Until he got a taste of that sweet power. He became hungry. Now, you have no choice but to obey his rules. Can you bring him back to the light? Or is it too late? (it’s definitely too late)

here we have my first ever full fic! firstly i would like to give a huge thankyou to @dbnightingale24 for giving me the confidence and tips to write this! and another big thankyou to @evansbby and @hansensgirl for inspiring me in the first place for begin writing💘it’s around 3k words and i really put my all into this so please don’t forget to comment and reblog, i would love to hear all of your feedback!🫶🏻 much love, cherry.

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

Steve Rogers, the man everyone respected, the man everyone believed in, looked up too. The man you used to cherish, his sweet boyish nature drawing you in from the moment you met. His pearly blues that used to soften as they fell on you, his gentle touch as he caressed your hair, the tender, loving kisses he used to leave all over your body.

Until Fury resigned that was.

Steve was officially the new director of shield, to which nobody opposed, i mean, who would right? He was Captain America, the man out of time. He was perfcet for the role. Strong willed, commanding yet understanding, he had respect for those beneath him and most of all he was compassionate, something that was hard to find in a good leader. This didn't last for long, of course.

Steve shortly became power hungry, his morals became more sick and twisted as his methods became more sadistic. He was violent, cruel…volatile. There was no bringing back Steve Rogers. The problem was he dragged everybody else down with him, nobody dared to stand up to Steve, too frightened of the consequences.

Tony couldn't talk Steve down, he tried for a while, attempted to reach out to him, guide him back to the light...but nothing worked. Tony couldn't do it, nor could you, not even his best friend of over a decade could sway his newfound mindset. You all figured it was best to keep your heads down from now on and follow Steves orders, no matter how out of line they seemed.

Not that you had a choice anyway.

Bucky was short to follow in his footsteps as his second in command. Both cruel and unforgiving. Your friendship with Bucky was practically non-exhistant, you no longer had movie nights together, giggling with big buckets of popcorn.

A simple nod of his head as he passed you down the hall was about as much as you would get. Steve wouldn't allow it now anyway.

Steve's display of affection changed alongside him, the love he made was no longer passionate, or gentle. In fact, he didn’t make love at all anymore… what he made was simply rough, hard, fucking.

The marks he left behind were no longer loving hickeys while he whispered in your ear, moaning sweet nothings as he gently thrusted his hips into your own. His eyes, gleaming with nothing but pure devotion.

They were bruises... bruises from how hard his hips slammed into your ass from behind, his grip tight on your hair, pulling and tugging as your skin became flustered at the impact of his thrusts. You missed the man he was. You often thought about that life while his cock was busy destroying your cunt. He didn’t care about your pleasure anymore, you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck.

From a distance you could hear Steves heavy boots storming down the coridoor. The sound was instantly unsettling. Your body recognising the noise as a trigger for an oncoming threat, sending you into alert mode.

You stood from your office chair on shaky legs, your posture rigid as he turned the corner to enter. His 6'4, stoic figure coming into view, casting a shadow that filled the room. His broad shoulders spread wide, his presence making your tummy tighten with unease.

He said nothing as he stared down at you, your fingers tugging at your short pink skirt- which he had chosen out for you this morning, the same way he customised your figure every morning. Claiming your dumb, baby brain was incapable of choosing an outfit that proved elegance and professionalism. In reality it was the complete opposite.

He liked to dress you in short skirts, ones that left little to the imagination, your asscheeks peeking out most days and revealing blouses, your tits practically spilling out of your shirts. You were highly sought after by the males at the compound before he came and scooped you up a few years ago.

They knew you were his, i mean he was your boyfriend for several years, you were what the female agents used to coo at, naming you as "couple goals". Where Steve went, you went, and vice versa. You were always seen smiling and giggling together, tag teaming on missons and holding hands as you explored the compound.

But, as steves power grew so did his insecurity. His possesive nature grew strong, wanting, no, needing to show other men you belonged to him, and only him. And you always would, whether you liked it or not.

"Get on your knees."

"Wh-What?"

"Get on your knees. You know i don't like to repeat myself." he growls while pushing your office door closed with one arm from behind, not daring to take his eyes of you.

You gulped as he stepped forward, caging you inbetween his thick biceps as you lean against your desk. One thing he was always good at was making you feel small. Even before all of this. Of course it wasn't anywhere near as threatening as it was now. He used to joke about how tiny you were compared to him, how he could pick you up with one hand, it was cute how big and protective he was of you.

Now, he used it to his advantage. He knew you feared him. He knew that you knew, you would never be able to run from him. He would overpower you every damn time with his brute strength.

There was no running from Steve Rogers. His thick beard scraped against your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine as he groaned into your neck, your scent driving him wild.

He whispered darkly in your ear "Final chance. Get on your knees. Now, or you won't like what'll happen if you refuse me again."

You inhaled sharply, goosebumps spreading across your body in pure fear, or ecstacy. It was hard to tell these days. Steve had conditioned you so well to his own liking that even your body reacted to him in ways you would never fully understand. Or so he says.

Slowly you inched down towards the floor with your knees bent. The cold, rough flooring instantly proving to be uncomfortable as you figited. But Steve didn't care about that, why would he? His thick hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyelids.

His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, he then pushes further, massaging your tongue as saliva begins to pool in your mouth. Removing his thumb slowly, he tugged on your bottom lip with pinched fingers. Before you even realised what was happening he shoves two fingers down your throat.

You sputter and gag around his thick digits, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the hard floor. Your eyes squeezed shut in pain as tears began rolling down your flustered cheeks.

His other hand is quick to grip your hair, tugging harshly. "You fuckin' look at me while daddy gags you with his fingers. Actin' like you don't get off on this shit. You love it. Say 'thankyou daddy'." he mocks with a high pitched tone.

Desperately trying to get the words out, you mumble around his fingers, seeming incoherent. He laughs darkly at your poor attempt, shoving his fingers deeper down your throat, gagging you one last time before pulling out.

"You gonna' be a good whore n' suck my dick? Huh? You fuckin' slut." His hand reaches down, pulling your shirt to the side, making your tits spill out. You hear him let out a loud groan, his pants tightening at the sight of your bare chest. He pinches your hard nipple roughly, rolling it roughly inbetween his index finger and thumb as you cry out, tears continuing to stream down your cheeks.

He shushes your cries gently as he begins to massage the same spot he previously assaulted making you keen with pleasure.

He had a thing for associating pain with pleasure, confusing your silly little brain into thinking the hurt he put you through was a good thing since pleasure soon followed. That he was rewarding you.

"Unzip me. Cmon' you dumb baby, take daddys fat cock out."

Listening to your own heartbeat in your ears, your head pounding with adrenaline, your fingers itch towards his pants. Which was apparently too slow for his liking as his grip on your hair tightens, making you sqeeze your eyes shut briefly before opening them, not wanting to anger him further.

You hurridly unzip his pants, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his cock. It's angry head pointing towards you as he grips the base with his other hand, slowing pumping his shaft over your face.

He pushes his bulbous tip into your closed lips, smearing his hot precum all over them. When you refuse to open your mouth he growls, pinching your nostrils closed. Feeling the air begin to leave your lungs, you gasp for breath and he's quick to shove his dick down your throat.

Gagging at the intrusion you cry harder, your lips stretching to fit around his thick length. his hips thrusting into your face as he fucks your throat harshly.

"That's it, you whore. Take daddys dick all the way down your throat. You fuckin' remember this the next time you try to refuse me."

His hand which was previously tugging at your hair moves towards your throat, holding you in a tight grip.

"Fuck... i can feel my fuckin' cock in that tiny throat of yours. Love it when you cry f' me, just makes me want to fuck you even harder, sweet girl." he grunts loudly over the sound of your gagging. Steve swiftly pulls his dick out as you keel over, coughing and sputtering, your throat sore from his brutal assault.

Before you even have a chance to gain your breath, his thick hands grip your shoulders, pulling you upright, bending you over your desk. Your legs shaking as he positions you so your ass is sticking out.

Lowering himself to the ground, he grips the flesh of your ass, squeezing roughly as he lifts up your skirt, briskly pulling your panties to the side. He shoves his nose into your pussy, groaning in delight at your sweet scent.

"Fuck i could live inbetween these slutty legs, your cunt's always ready for daddy, huh? Trained you so well." Your sticky juices smeared across your legs, dripping with desire, his facial hair bristling against your thighs making you squirm.

He mercilessly pushes his tongue as deep as it can go into your hole. You whimper as he laps up your wetness, his tongue prodding at your insides. Your arousal soaking his beard while your pussy clenched around his tongue. He pulls away for a moment, “God, how do you taste so fuckin’ good.” he groans.

Reaching back to grip his hair in your small fists, you go to push his face back into your cunt, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. His hand grips your wrist tightly, pining your arm to the desk, a sure reminder of who's in charge, seeming as you had forgotten your place. “Stay fuckin’ still or i’ll stop. Don’t you ever pull that shit again.”

You moan lewdly as he moves to latch onto your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Groaning into your pussy as he fists his cock.

Your eyes begin to roll back as your orgasm itches closer. Steve, realising this, pulls away once again. Your juices stringing from your clit to his lips as you cry out, your orgasm beginning to fade.

"Stop with the fuckin' whining. Daddy's gonna' fuck you now. Tell daddy how much you want his cock...Cmon. No need to act all innocent now." he pressures at your hesitation.

"P-Please daddy wan' you to fuck me."

"You can do better than that." Steve husks, giving your ass a harsh smack from behind, knowing your skin will blister from his force.

Your lips quiver as you cry, "Please! N-Need your cock inside me so badly, wan' you to destroy me for anybody else. Wanna' feel you in my cervix daddy, Jus' wanna make you feel good. Love how full you make me feel. Please...I-I'll die if you don't fuck me. Pretty pretty ple-."

and before you can finish your sentence your cut off by your own scream, his cock dissapearing inbetween your folds as he bottoms out with a singular thrust. Your legs become slack as your body spasms at the intrustion, his hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as you squirm, instinctively trying to escape his hold.

"F-Fuck, Y-Your so big daddy. It hurts so bad, p-pull out!"

"Shut up." he groans as his thick hand covers your mouth from behind. “Gonna fuckin’ dog fuck you til you can’t think of anything but this fat fuckin’ cock you dirty little slut, you hear me?” he practically growls as he begins to fuck you.

The sound of clapping skin begins to fill the room, agents around the compound sure to hear the way his dick bruitalises your cunt.

"Such a filthy girl i have, always so desperate for daddy to fuck you, even when you try and deny it, i know this sweet pussy would never lie to me." He coos in your ear as you sob, your face wet with tears and saliva.

"My messy whore, see what happens when you don't listen to me? You see what a mess you become? Fuck. You look so pretty like this, this is how you should always be, filled to the brim with my fat dick.”

Steve had always loved fucking you braindead, watching as your eyes glaze over and your tongue begins to hang out of your mouth, drooling all over yourself. It made him feel powerful, like you were dependent on him. Which you were in a sense, always so needy and desperate for him to fuck you.

The impact of his animalistic thrusts turn your skin raw as he speeds up. His arm wrapping around your waist, pressing you close to him as he spreads his legs further apart, hitting a new angle inside your pussy. You let out a loud wanton moan as his balls slap against your clit.

“F-Fuck yes! H-Harder daddy.”

“Yeah? You like that? I know you do, it’s okay. Is my little girls brain goin’ fuzzy? Huh? Poor girl.” Steve mocked, amusement clear in his tone. "M' gonna' cum. Daddy please can i cum?" you whine, the knot in your stomach tightening, a warning that your orgasm was near.

"Yeah baby? You gonna' cum for me you dirty whore? Go ahead, cum all over my dick. Can feel you clenching around me, grippin' me like a fuckin' vice."

Your cream coats his length as you let out a muffled cry, biting your lip harshly as you cum.

"T-Thankyou daddy. Feels s-so good..." you babble, your thick cream creating a ring around the base of his cock. Your weight giving out once again as Steve holds you, smirking as he watches you come undone, giving you no escape from his relentless thrusts.

His thick shaft pummeling your insides as you scream with ecstacy, your pussy throbbing as he fucks you through your high.

"F-Fuck look at that... love watching your cream leak around my cock, taking this dick so good for me. Gonna' cum inside you...yeah? You want daddy to fill you up?" he groans as his own orgasm nears, talking himself through it.

"God, this cunt treats me like a fuckin' king. It's coming baby, daddys gonna cum, Oh fuck fuckkk." his hips twitch and his balls throb as his load begins to fill you, shooting out thick ropes of hot cum into your pussy. Moaning at the sensation of his warmth inside you.

“Take my fuckin’ cum. That’s it, good girl. Love watchin’ your pussy swallow my hot fuckin load, bet you love it too, hm? You slut.” he pants, exhausted from the brutal fucking he just gave you.

He snaps out of it almost instantly, pulling out without warning and tucking his softening cock back into his pants.

Giving your ass a harsh smack, he steps back. You turn to look at him, your eyes glazed over. He stares at the ground with no emotion as he combs his locks with his fingers, making himself seem presentable.

Hope fills you, your heart races as you lick your lips in anticipation, wondering if he will stay to comfort you and hold you the way he used to many months ago.

But he doesn't. You get nothing but a short glance as he turns to exit your office, slamming the door shut on his way out. You slump down against the floor, a complete mess.

Your soft cries turn to sobs, breathing rapidly, your hands gripping your hair as you raise your knees to your chest. It was almost as if he had you in a trance when he was burried inside your cunt, as soon as he was done it was like the fog in your brain had cleared.

People told you there was no bringing the old Steve back, that your sweet, caring boyfriend was gone. Replaced by a monster.

You didn't want to believe them... but maybe you should've.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Never say “no” to your husband | Steve Rogers

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Dark!Mob!Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> You say “no” when Steve wants you to warm his cock in front of his men.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 557

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 18+, Minors DNI Smut, dark!Steve, mention of fingering, unprotected p in v, rough sex

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> 🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about: Dark!Steve Rogers + covering your mouth @stargazingfangirl18

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for sending that Drabble idea. It was funny.

Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

“Come on. Don’t be like that, honey.”

Steve groans and grasps your hand, stopping you from leaving the room while he turns you around. Your front crashes almost painfully against the hard wall in front of you. You hiss softly, and Steve pushes himself against you, holding you tight between the wall and his body. You can feel his tensing muscles against your back and the way his fingers dig into your skin.

“Stevie, pl-,” you whimper, but you get interrupted by his forward thrusting hips.

Steve's hand snaps to your face, covering your mouth before you can complain or beg even more. He knows that you would try to convince him to let go of you, but he won’t. He is desperate, and he wants you, your tight pussy. He owns his reward; he is the most popular mob boss, so he deserves to be treated like that. He thrusts his hips another time forward, his growing bulge pressing against your ass, and you whine against his hand.

“Told you to be good. Wanted to bury my dick inside of you earlier, but you made a scene. There were just a few of my men. You're a bad girl. You little slut, now I’m gonna fuck you,” he mumbles into your ear before he kisses down your neck.

Steve’s hand, which isn’t covering your mouth, removes your pants, freeing his cock. He moans loudly when he runs his thumb over the tip of his hard cock, smearing the pre-cum all over his dick, and gives himself a few strokes. Your husband loves to have you like that, begging for him to stop, maybe for his cock - depends on his mood. But now he just wants to fuck the attitude out of you, the way you said “no” to him when he told you to warm his dick. You didn’t want to, since he had a meeting with his men. Steve didn’t like to hear a no when it came to things he asked for. Not to mention that he always gets what he wants, as does his sweet little wife, who has to give him whatever he wants.

Steve’s hand lets go of his dick, sliding around your body until he reaches your pussy, moving them through your already wet folds. Steve chuckles, knowing your body exactly and how to touch you to make you drip like that. He rubs your clit, adding more pressure while he listens to the soft, muffled moans that leave your lips.

“Like that, don’t you? Such a pretty little slut for me.”

Before you can protest in any way, he shoves his dick inside of you. Your walls are stretching painfully, but your arousal makes it easy for him to slide balls deep inside of your tight pussy. Steve can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of you and your pretty little pussy.

“Don’t try to wiggle out of my grip. We both know you love that, love being fucked like that by your husband,” he groans, starting to thurst in a brutal pace inside of you.

His hand covers your mouth, your screams and moans muffled by it, while his dick stretches you like no one else could. And as much as you hate to admit it, he is able to fuck you whenever and wherever you want.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @felicitylemon @cjand10 @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf

[babyjakes]

clear blue water.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | watersports

pairing | soft!dark!daddies!steve rogers and ari levinson x little!reader

warnings | dark ddlg dynamic (soft!dark!daddies of captive!little!reader.) dub/non-con. shower scene. crying kink. moment of nipple play. thigh riding. clit focus <33 + fingering. forced orgasm. watersports (unexpected wetting.) mocking/humiliation. praise and encouragement. aftercare (cleaning off.)

word count | 1,205

an | they have one of those big fancy walk-in showers with the bench in the back, the ones made of marble?? i didn't know how to describe it in-fic so i'm just dropping that info here lol. i don't usually write shower stuff so i hope this turned out okay :')

edit | this is written in the same au as you all over me, with captive!reader and her soft!dark!daddies.

There was no use in squirming or struggling. Any resistance you showed would only make things harder for yourself. And yet as hard as you tried, you couldn't keep your trembling body still. Perched up on Steve's broad thigh, your shoulder blades pressed back against his bare front side, you felt like a cornered animal as Ari crouched down in front of you on the sleek shower floor. A look of mock concern drew across the brunette's face as he reached out to brush dripping strands of hair out of your face.

Steve's arm was steady around your waist holding you in place, but there was little harshness to his grasp. Neither of the men were particularly rough or violent with you, but there were times when you honestly found yourself wishing they would be. There was just something about the way they treated you, with such love and patience- it felt so wrong, given the circumstances. It was maddening.

"P-please, don't make me..." Your begging seemed pathetic even to you as Ari shook his head regretfully, his large hand trailing down to begin toying with one of your tits. His fingertips teased lightly over your already-stiffened nipple, tweaking and tugging at the poor knot of flesh as he shared a steady look with Steve.

"C'mon doll, you're alright. Be a big girl and let your daddies help you," the man holding you encouraged softly. He brought up a hand of his own to begin occupying your other breast as his counterpart shifted his focus lower.

"Gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," Ari promised as he leaned his face down a little, settling his unwanted gaze on your puffy pussy lips as they sat helplessly atop Steve's muscular thigh. Letting out a thoughtful hum, the crouching man mused, "Now, let's see here..."

Steve shifted you up slightly along the length of his leg, placing a hand on either side of your waist to keep you balanced and upright. "Good, that's better," Ari murmured appreciatively as he brought his own prying hands down to gently spread your pussy lips over the surface you were perched on. A feeble whine rose in your throat as your dripping hole and clit came in contact with Steve's damp skin. "There," Ari smiled approvingly, "right up against Daddy's leg. Are you gonna be a good girl and ride Stevie's thigh, baby? Or are we gonna have to help you?"

Big, warm tears of humiliation sprang from your eyes as you tried to glare at the brown-haired man before you. To your dismay, Ari simply seemed to find your little act of defiance endearing. "Poor little girl, what a pretty pout," he crooned as he leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead.

"That's okay, sweetheart," Steve's voice was low and rumbly from behind you, "little babies need their daddies' help. That's what we're here for." Tightening his grip on your waist, he drew a faltering cry from your trembling lips as he began bouncing his leg beneath you, grinding your hips down with his hands at a steady, punishing rhythm.

Ari's expression was full of sympathy as he reached in again to aid in your torment. With just the tips of his fingers, he spread your labia back further, watching as your poor little bundle of nerves was dragged repeatedly over the slippery surface below. "I know, baby. I know," he frowned gently. "Bet your poor little button burns, doesn't it?"

"Poor thing," Steve played right along with his partner's cruel game of faux pity. "How long d'you think she'll last, Ari? Look at her, she's getting worked up already," he pointed out as your shaking legs kicked helplessly beneath you.

"That's our perfect girl," Ari hummed as he and Steve kept up their steady movements. "Shouldn't take long," he stated knowingly, "poor baby's so sensitive, doesn't take much to make her come."

Heat was rising up through your neck and face as your torture dragged on. As always, you were doing everything you could to fight off the inevitable, but very quickly you were finding it all to just be too much. The way they spoke about you as if you weren't even there, the mortifying detail they were discussing your circumstances in. The way forcing you to orgasm seemed to be their favorite pastime, the way they knew the quickest and most efficient ways to bring you right to the edge of those unwanted climaxes they loved so much...

"Getting so wet, doll. You getting close?" Steve murmured against the back of your neck as your broken whimpers and sobs grew louder and more desperate.

Ari could see that familiar look growing on your face, prompting him to bring the pads of his fingers down to rub quickly and harshly against your throbbing button. "C'mon, baby. Give it to us," he commanded, his voice now stronger with an heir of authority.

"Don't fight it, little one," Steve crooned, his voice vibrating against your ear as the horrible feelings swelled up inside of you. As you were sent reeling towards your high, the man behind you brought a firm arm around your lurching body to steady you. Just as your orgasm began tearing through you, the pressure applied to your lower belly proved too much to bear; in a humiliating moment of complete and total helplessness, a surge of warmth shot out from your spasming cunt as you gushed and came simultaneously.

Feeling the forceful spray hit his thigh, Steve couldn't help but beam at the sight of your forfeited control. Ari caught on to what was happening only fractions of a moment later, immediately sharing in his friend's delight. "There, let it all out, sweetheart," he chuckled softly as the unbearable waves of pleasure and relief continued.

"Poor baby, just couldn't hold it, huh?" Steve joined in as your overwhelming climax finally began to wind down. As soon as you left its grips, your poor body slumped uselessly against your captors' holds. Ari removed his fingers from your twitching button as Steve eased you back to lean against his broad chest, gently planting a kiss to your temple as you sat there helplessly, too weak to do anything but struggle for air through your tears.

"Shhh," Ari brought his hands to rub soothingly over the tops of your thighs. As the humiliation of the situation settled in, your cries only worsened, earning concerned yet understanding looks from both of the men as they sat there with you in the humid air. Steve rubbed your tummy gently as Ari stepped away momentarily, retrieving a rag and the bottle of body soap from the front of the shower before returning. You were too weak and exhausted to fight as the man began washing you off, continuing to offer you soft words of praise and reassurance along with Steve.

"You're okay, sweetheart. Just let your daddies take care of you," the blonde told you softly as the warm, soothing cloth was dragged over your ruined body.

"Our little baby. So good for her daddies," Ari kissed your nose, his loving acts and words only feeling like salt in the gaping wound they had once again torn open in you.

[highonmarvel]

Dilated [I]

Steve Rogers bumps into a woman whose pupils are larger than normal.

Previous Part: [Prologue]

content warnings here!

You startle at the contact and quickly slap his hands off, immediately groaning at the cramp suffocating your left upper arm as you pull it back. You can’t really see the tall man in front of you through your watery eyes, and you can’t wipe your eyes due to your sweaty palms.

You’re struggling to really comprehend what he’s saying; you know he asked if you’re okay, and then?

“Can I take you home?” his voice comes through hazily.

“Wh- What?” you ask, the question immediately flying out of your head as your eyes rapidly scan the streets, like looking for signs of danger, when you’re sure there aren’t any.

“Can I take you home,” he repeats, slowly and louder. You turn your head to wipe your face on your shoulder as he continues, “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

That’s Captain America, no?

With your eyes less blurry now, you’re just able to make out the blue eyes and golden hair under the warm streetlights.

“Okay!” is all you can muster, and you’re not sure to what he took it: okay to take you home or okay that’s his name? Maybe you should give your name in response but you don’t, you can’t. When he asks for your address, you snap something at him that you think is where you live, though you can’t tell through your irritation; he’s really agitating you for some reason; he’s done nothing, but he’s got you annoyed, or maybe you’re just annoyed in general after Sharon cut you off. You wonder why, because it’s not like she doesn’t have a supply, and it’s not like she cares whether you live or die.

You stumble a few times and sway slightly as you stay just a little ahead of him in beat to get to your flat but refuse his offer of a strong, steady arm around your waist to keep your stable. You don’t want to touch him at all, feeling hot and hotter even just walking beside him, everything radiating heat, but especially his body.

You get to the entrance of your building and push your shoulder against the door to stumble into the hall. You don’t notice Steve come in behind you under he places a large hand on the small of your back and you jump in fright with a yelp, whipping around to face him.

“Sorry!” he apologises, “I’m sorry, but I really need to make sure you get in safe. Is that okay?”

You wish he would stop talking, and you guess he knows you’re not really processing what he’s saying, but you don’t really have the drive to snap at him, just letting him trail you as you walk up four flights of stairs to get to your door. He stays alert behind you, ready for you to fall backwards and into his arms, but you make it, surprising even yourself.

You fumble with your keys, ignoring his offer to help as you drop the key four times before you get it in the lock and then another three trying to turn it. You don’t kick off your shoes, don’t take off your jacket or even pull your sling bag off, you just crash face first into the couch and fall right asleep.

***

Steve is surprised at your exhaustion. His first guess was heroin withdrawal but that’s more likely to cause insomnia, and then he worries you may have died in front of him, but your breathing slowly returning to regular and your snoring assure him you’re alive. Well, barely.

He has to stay overnight, how can he just leave you like this? Tomorrow will probably be worse, you can’t be alone by yourself right now. He’s not sure if he should pull a blanket over you, take your shoes off and rest your head more comfortably on a pillow. He decides to leave you, worried if he takes one thing off he may not be able to stop.

But he should probably get something to help you, right? And he needs a glass of water himself. Your kitchen opens right into the living room so it’s easy to find. He pours himself an ice cold glass, sipping it as he walks back to you and settles in an armchair across from the sofa you’re passed out on. Your place isn’t really decorated; he can see lighter squares against your walls, and wonders if you sold those pieces of if you’ve recently moved and a previous tenant took their frames.

Maybe you’re an artist; he’s heard artists are tortured, a lot of them do drugs, or maybe a musician; he should probably check your bedroom to be sure, just to learn about you so tomorrow he can get you the appropriate help.

There are only two doors, one leading to the bathroom. He’s immediately drawn to your medicine cabinet to check if you’ve got anything here, because if you do, he needs to get rid of it. He finds more bottles of sleeping pills than needed and a prescription for depression or anxiety meds, making a mental note to flush the sedatives down the toilet in a few hours; not now, he doesn’t want to wake you.

Adjacent to the bathroom is what he assumes if your bedroom door, which he is right about, and as messy as expected (he wondered how your living room, kitchen and bathroom appeared tidy enough—if you were in this state often, you’d definitely be unable to maintain even basic cleaning). Maybe you didn’t use those rooms. Not even the bathroom?

Clothes are scattered on the floor and pillows and blankets have been thrown off the bed, sheets too, leaving a bare mattress with a small bloodstain on it. A desk sits by the window, looking out to just another red brick apartment complex, with a broken laptop and scraps of paper cluttering the surface and the ground, a small bin overflowing with paper and broken pens.

He finds a manuscript laying on the floor—so you’re a writer—and finally he can put a name to your face. Should he clean your room, or is that really weird? In less than an hour he’s developing this caring instinct, and he tells himself it’s just his job, Captain America wanting to help everyone and all, he’s a superhero after and before all.

Steve gets another cold glass of water and settles in his seat across from you. For the first time tonight, you look at peace; your eye lids aren’t moving as rapidly, your breathing is steady and deep, your limbs aren’t trembling, muscles aren’t cramped, and your wild sweating has slowed, though he can still even see the layer sticking to your skin.

***

When you peel your eyes open, you’re grateful for the overcast weather, though you’re still a little blinded by the light. You feel like pure shit: weak and sore with a pounding headache and overwhelming nausea. You turn your head to vomit off the couch, surprised to land it in a bucket waiting for you and not your stained carpet. Blinking is hardly helping as you try to get your lashes to unstick each time they flutter. Your heartbeat is slow, slow enough that were you feeling more aware, it would concern you, and you wonder if you’re dying.

You’re hardly regaining full consciousness when your gaze finally lands on a man sitting across from you. You scream as you sit up and jump further back into the couch, but you can’t hold yourself up for long before you tumble back to the cushions, your shoulder hitting the edge making you wince in pain and heavy head lolling over the armrest, straining your neck.

“Relax, relax, you’re gonna hurt yourself, you need to calm down. I’m Steve,” he introduces himself in a friendly manner but he doesn’t smile, instead scanning your face with furrowed brows like he’s looking for any injuries.

He looks like the man from last night, yeah, and it takes you a few moments to grasp that he’s Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. Your breathing rate increases as your mind races to find a reason as to why Captain America is in your apartment. You vaguely remember being turned away again by Sharon last night, and you remember someone mentioning she was dealing some more serious shit than what you needed, had he found out about that? Thought you were an accomplice? Or maybe you were in danger; maybe Sharon had found out you knew and was going to kill you, and he was here for protection. Did you do something really illegal last night to the point one of the world’s greatest superheroes had to watch over you?

“I know who you are what are you doing here?” you plead for an answer, desperation coating your tone as your heart beats wildly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he coos, taking a step towards you and keeping his hands visible, like approaching a stray dog, “I was really, really concerned about you last night, I couldn’t in good faith leave you, I had to make sure you got home safe.”

But… it’s the morning. Did he stay all night? You kind of hope he did instead of leaving and somehow breaking into your place when you were passed out, if anything.

You’re shaking, and you can’t tell if it’s from withdrawal or if you’re scared. But why would you be scared? You have the world’s greatest protector concerned with your health and safety. Something about him is unsettling, and at first you think it’s just your agitation finding reasons for anxiety when there are none. He was just being nice, being so much more helpful than you could have ever asked for, but you can’t help but wonder, wouldn’t he have better things to do? More serious threats to take care of? Why would an Avenger prowl the streets and take such an interest in a random woman rather than an inter-dimensional threat?

Something just isn’t sitting right, and you can’t tell if it’s your scattered imagination or a real possibility of danger.

⍟

[taglist; @cjand10, @pr300877, fill out this form if you’d like to be added]

[dungeonpuppykai]

'40s breadwinner corporate/wallstreet worker husband Steve Rogers who is a complete misogynistic shithead and spanks you for talking back with a proud smile on his face 🩷

Continuation <3

[bossbtch1]

Golden Boy of America

Summary : What if Steve Rogers wasn't the revered symbol of American virtue that everyone believed him to be? Contrary to the public perception of his kindness and charm, you've come to realize it was all a façade. Now, you find yourself in a nightmarish scenario—kidnapped and bound, questioning everything you thought you knew about the man once hailed as the golden boy of America.

Pairings : Dark!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Words : 6,9k

General tags : SMUT, 18+, NSFW

TW : dark fic, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, degradation, non-con, dirty talk, oral sex, smut, vibrator, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, rough sex, p in v, overstimulation, breeding kink, forced impregnation

A/N : This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I've been going back and forth, tweaking the story to add a darker twist. I've always felt like there's more beneath the surface of Captain America's heroic façade, he did good and sacrificed everything for the world. What if he's not as perfect as he seemed? And you had to be the one who found out about his true side, his dark side. That's the premise of this one shot, enjoy~

Before you continue, please read TW again. This is a dark!fic and explicit, strictly for readers 18+.  I don't condone any of this kind of thinking in real life, this is purely fan fiction. Please, DO NOT PROCEED if these themes disturb you. Please don't read if this content is not your cup of tea, you've been warned.

My masterlist

The sound of a car door slamming shut is the last thing you remember before everything went black. A dull ache in your head is what you first felt when you woke up.

When you open your eyes, you find that your hands and legs are bounded by rope and tape, the coldness of the floor and walls send shivers down your spine. It takes a few seconds for you to process the situation you were in. The first thing that came into mind was where you were, who did this and why? Your memories were all a blur, you can't remember how you got into this predicament.

You hear a door open from somewhere, it echoes in the empty space, making the hairs on your arm stand up. You start to feel anxious and scared as your heart beats loudly. "Hello?" You say and the voice bounces off the walls, not knowing who was behind this.

"Good, you're awake now." A familiar voice speaks out, walking into the room. Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape.

"S-Steve? W-What's going on? Why am I here?" You ask him, fear evident in your voice. Steve doesn't answer and stares at you blankly. He's standing right in front of you. "Answer me!" You demand but he remains silent, only looking at you.

"You don't have the right to tell me what to do." He said with a dark expression. 

"What the fuck, Steve!" you said as you were tied to a chair. The ropes were tight enough to not get out of but loose enough so it doesn't hurt. "Let me go, Steve, you bastard!"

He was standing in front of you with his arms crossed and a stoic expression. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked like he was going to kill someone.

"Why should I? So, you can escape and go tell on me? Tell everyone what a bad man I am? Huh?" Steve said as he walked up to you and grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. "You know I can't let you do that."

He kept you in a small bedroom. The wallpaper was torn, revealing the rotten wood behind it. A single bed and a rickety drawer stood as the only furnishings. The window had its shutters closed, allowed no glimpse of the outside world and there was only a single light bulb illuminating the room. It gave a very eerie feeling.

"Steve, let me go." You said in a low voice.

"I can't do that." He said, running his fingers through his hair. "If I do, they will find me and put me in jail."

"Steve, they will not find you. I swear I won't tell anyone." You said as you tried to get up. But Steve came up and pushed you back to the chair.

"Stop. Fucking. Moving." He said in a menacing tone. "You're not the boss here. I am." He said.

"Do you think you can just imprison me like this?" you shouted, your voice cracking with frustration. "What you're doing is cruel and inhumane!"

A chilling smile crept across Steve's lips as he retorted, "Oh, I can, and I will. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. I have my reasons, and I won't let you ruin everything I've worked for."

Your voice trembled with shock and disbelief, "What do you mean I'm not the first? There were others before me? What happened to them? Who are you?!"

"I've always been Steve Rogers, the same person you met and fell for. As for the others, they were my mistakes, and I fixed them." Steve replied in a casual tone as if talking about the weather. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you won't have to worry about that. I won't make the same mistakes twice."

"What happened to them?" you asked, feeling the blood drain from your face.

"That's none of your concern, sweetheart. You don't need to worry about them. All you need to worry about is obeying me."

You couldn't believe that the man in front of you was the same person you'd known. "I will not obey you, Steve."

He laughed as he sat on the bed, "You’re not the Steve I know. You're fucking insane! You're no hero!" You screamed at him, "I saw you kill that man, Steve. You took his life without a shred of remorse."

He shook his head. "Y/N it was necessary. He was a criminal, and it was self-defense."

"No it wasn’t!" you raised your voice. “You had other options, you could have spared his life, but you didn't. You killed him because you're a psychopath!"

He ignored your statement and said, "I told you, you should have never followed me. You've made this very hard for yourself." He crossed his arm, "I warned you, I tried so fucking hard so you wouldn't see any of this, but you just had to follow me."

He was right, if you listened to him and didn’t follow him, you wouldn’t end up like this. You didn't know how to respond.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me next?"

"Oh, please, if I was going to kill you, I would have done it the minute I brought you here." He said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, why would I kill you when you could be so much more useful to me alive."

"Useful?"

"Yeah. I could use some help." He said as he walked closer to you.

"What kind of help?" you asked.

He smirked and licked his lips. "The fun kind."

"Steve, what are you talking about?" you asked, fearing the answer.

He leaned in closer and whispered into your ear. "I'm sure you'll be a good girl and obey."

You didn't like where this was going. "Steve, please let me go." you whispered, trying not to cry. You were scared, you were tied to a chair and no one knew where you were. You were scared of what Steve was going to do to you.

"You're begging already?" He laughed dryly. "It hasn't even been 20 minutes."

"Please." You sighed and tried to break free from the ropes. "You can't keep me here, Steve. Please"

"I can do anything I want." he whispered, his face getting closer to yours. You tried to lean back, but there was no room. You could feel his breath fanning over your face. You shut your eyes.

"You don't want to do this, Steve." You said.

"Don't I?" he asked, tilting his head. "Because it seems like I do."

"Please..." You opened your eyes, you had tears forming in them. You were scared, he could do anything he wanted to you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

"You look so pretty when you beg, you know that?" he said, his face inches from yours.

"Steve, don't do this. Please" You begged.

He ran his fingers over your cheek and wiped away the tear that was threatening to fall. "Shame that it had to be like this."

"Steve... I-I promise I won't tell anyone." you whimpered, flinching at his touch. You didn't want him to touch you.

He shook his head. "You've seen what I did."

"It was an accident. We can get out of this," you pleaded, your voice laden with desperation, seeking any flicker of empathy in his eyes.

"No. We can't. This was inevitable. Don't worry, sweetheart. You're going to love it here," Steve declared with an unsettling certainty, his tone almost comforting, as if he genuinely believed the twisted reality he was creating.

"Steve, please. You can't keep me here. If not for you, at least do it for our friendship. Please, let me go"

"This will be the last time you beg, Y/N. I will not repeat myself. You're not going anywhere. This will be your new home"

"It won't be," you insisted, defiance laced with fear.

"You'll see, in time, you'll change your mind." Steve's response echoed through the room, the unsettling assurance leaving you with a sinking feeling of dread as the realization set in that escape seemed increasingly improbable.

The room seemed to close in, the peeling wallpaper and the flickering light bulb casting eerie shadows that danced around the space, creating an atmosphere of both captivity and impending menace.

Your hand struggled against the rope as you watched him. Your eyes wide and frightened. "You see, my sweet Y/N. I've got my eye on you for quite a while. Maybe after I've had my fun with you, I'll consider letting you go. Who knows" he smiled at you, his hand caressing your lips. You felt sick.

"Don't you dare touch me" you hissed, jerking your face away from him. His eyes flashed with anger for a second before it was gone. 

"You don't have a choice" he chuckled. He took hold of your jaw and brought his face closer to yours, his lips a breath away. "I will enjoy making you scream and beg for mercy."

You felt his hands trail down your neck and down to the top of your shirt. He looked up at you before ripping your shirt open, making the buttons fly across the room. You gasped as you felt the cool air hit your skin. You were left in your bra, the thin lace fabric the only thing protecting you.

"Don't" 

"Don't what?" He grinned and pulled your bra straps down, exposing your breasts. You tried to cover yourself but you couldn't. You were still tied to the chair, and he was stronger than you.

"Please. Just stop" You felt tears roll down your cheeks.

"Oh, honey. This is just the beginning" He took one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it, making you gasp in pain. He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. You squirmed under his touch, trying to push him away, but he held onto your wrists and kept you in place.

"Stop! Please, Steve. I'm sorry!"

"No. I don't think you're sorry" he growled as he moved to your neck and bit down. He sucked on the sensitive skin, making sure he left a mark.

"Stop!" you exclaimed, trying to push him off you. He chuckled at your efforts, then next he was moving his hands down your waist and stopping at the top of your jeans.

"Now, be a good girl and stay still. Wouldn't want to ruin such pretty underwear, now would we?" he asked as he slowly pulled your pants down. Your breathing sped up and you started to squirm.

"Steve, stop, please, I'm sorry, just let me go, please" you pleaded, tears pricking your eyes. You couldn't believe that he was doing this.

"Stop with the dramatics, princess. It won't change a thing. Just sit back and enjoy, it'll feel better if you relax" he cooed, pulling your jeans down to your ankles. You felt a sob escape your throat as he looked down at you, his eyes looking hungry and lustful.

"Please, don't do this, Steve, please"

"Shh, princess, I'm going to make you feel good, okay? But, first, I gotta take these off" he murmured, reaching for your panties. Your breathing stopped, and you felt yourself shake.

"Steve" you whimpered, shaking your head. Tears were falling down your face, and Steve was wiping them away. 

"Such a pretty sight. You're gonna look so pretty covered in my marks" he whispered as he leaned down and started to suck on your neck. You let out a strangled moan as you tried to move your head away from him.

"Get off, you creep" you groaned, trying to kick him away. He didn't seem fazed and just held your hips down. He was much stronger than you, and the more you struggled, the harder his grip became.

"That's it, baby. Squirming like a little slut" he murmured, moving his hand down and under your panties. You shook your head frantically, trying to kick him away again.

"Don't touch me, please" you begged, closing your legs tightly. He looked up at you, his blue eyes darkening with lust. "Steve, get off me!"

"You know, I've seen the way you've looked at me. Like a piece of meat" He was right, you couldn’t lie, you were attracted to him ever since you first saw him. Who wasn’t attracted to him? He was kind and gentle. Even right now after you found out who he really was, you still feel attracted to him. You knew you shouldn’t be. 

“You’re disgusting!” You spat in defiance, you were in denial. 

"You say that now, but I'll have you screaming my name"

"I'll never scream your name, you pervert."

"We’ll see about that, princess.” he murmured, kissing down your stomach. You shivered as you felt his warm breath fanning over your stomach. You didn't want him this close. 

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but why are you already wet huh?” You were shaking your head, trying to get him to stop. But it felt so good. 

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but you sure are wet, darling. So, what is it, hm? Tell me, are you wet because you want me or is it something else?” He pushed a finger inside of you, making you gasp. He began pumping his finger in and out, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck. I've always wondered what you would feel like. So tight and warm." He continued pumping his finger in and out of you, and you tried to hold back a moan. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he was pleasuring you.

"Scream my name, princess."

"Never." You said through clenched teeth. 

"That's fine, sweetheart, I can do this all day." He smirked.

You could feel his finger moving inside of you, hitting the spot that made your legs tremble. You tried to hold back a moan, but he knew what he was doing.

"Oh fuckkk," you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"That's right, princess, be a good girl for me" he groaned, moving his fingers inside you. You moaned, feeling him thrust his fingers in and out. He moved his lips back to your neck, biting and sucking. He added another finger and curled his fingers inside of you.

You let out a small moan, and he smirked. "Come on, princess, you can do better than that."

He added a third finger and thrust them faster, making your hips buck. He was moving his fingers faster and faster, and you could feel yourself getting closer.

You couldn't stop the moans from escaping. Your body betrayed you.

He continued curling his fingers inside of you, and you felt a pressure building up.

"P-please, st-stop, I don't- I don't w-want" you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"What, princess, don't wanna have some fun?"

"No, I-I don't want th-this"

"Stop lying to yourself, princess.” He said as he kissed your cheeks. “You're so pretty like this, Y/N. All vulnerable and defenseless"

"I'm not-"

"Oh, baby, I know. But don't worry, I'll make you feel so good."

"Fuck, Steve"

"That's right, baby, moan my name. You sound so beautiful." He laughed and continued thrusting his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut as his fingers went deeper, hitting your g-spot.

"Beg me, princess. Beg me to make you come.” he said, moving his fingers faster. Your breathing sped up as he added a third finger, stretching your hole. 

"Screw you!" You refused to beg him, not giving him the satisfaction.

"You will. You'll beg me to make you come, and then you'll beg me to fuck you. You'll beg me to use your body until I've had my fill."

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. He began rubbing your clit again, causing your legs to shake. You could feel your climax approaching, and you didn't know whether to be relieved or scared. "I can feel how close you are. Say it, princess. Beg me."

Then when you were about to cum, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You wanted to cry. "No!" You panted, trying to catch your breath.

"Not yet, princess. You know what I want, princess. Tell me." He purred, licking his fingers clean. You knew what he wanted, you still refused.

He laughed. "You're really gonna make me do this, aren't you?"

You were so confused. You didn't know what he meant. "You're gonna make me show you just how bad you need this."

He got up from the bed and walked over to the closet. He opened the doors and reached inside, pulling out a bag.

"What is that?" you asked, nervously.

He turned and looked at you. He opened the bag and pulled out a long, thin, pink vibrator. Your eyes went wide, you began to tremble. You were terrified. He was going to use that on you.

He held the vibrator up to your face and pressed a button, making it hum. You shook your head at him, "Steve No!"

He walked back over to you and crouched down in front of you. He ran his hand down your thigh, before spreading your legs, "Such a pretty pussy, princess." he murmured, tracing a finger along your folds.

He put the vibrator between your legs, pressing it against your clit.

"Fuck! Don't!" you moaned, trying to get away. He grabbed your hair and pulled you closer to him. "Oh, princess, you're gonna cum on this. Then, you're gonna cum on my cock. And, after that, you're gonna beg me for more."

You let out a sob as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel yourself getting close again. "Please, Steve."

He pressed the vibrator against your clit harder, making you moan. You didn't want him touching you there, but you couldn't stop the pleasure. "Tell me what you want, Y/N"

"Steve, I can't. I don't want it, I can't, please"

"But, you do, princess. You're already wet for me. You want this."

You shook your head, trying to get away from the vibrator. He held onto your hips, keeping you still. He leaned forward and licked your nipple. He sucked your nipple, making you arch your back.

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator, causing your hips to buck. He let go of your nipple and moved the vibrator lower, rubbing it against your entrance.

"Fuck! Stop, Steve. I-I can't. It's too much!"

"Oh, baby, this is nothing. Just wait until I start fucking you."

You were getting closer, the pleasure almost unbearable. "Steve, please. Stop. Please. I can't. I'm gonna-"

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator. "Say it. Or I'll make this last even longer. I'll keep you here all night, and the whole time, I'll be inside you."

You moaned and closed your eyes. "Please… Steve…”

He chuckled. "I like hearing you beg, princess." He turned the vibrator off and moved it back up to your clit. He slowly pushed it into your tight cunt.

"I can't…."

He smirked, "Oh, baby, we've just gotten started."

He turned the vibrator on and fucked you with it. You arched your back and moaned. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up. You let out a whimper as he kissed you, hard. He pulled away and licked your neck. "You're such a slut for me, princess. You will love it when I fuck you."

You shook your head, trying to get him to stop. "Please, Steve. Stop."

He ignored you, thrusting the vibrator deeper inside you.

You were about to cum when he suddenly pulled the vibrator out. "Steve, please, I need-"

Everytime you were close to cum, he would turn the vibrator off,  making you frustrated and horny. "I can do this all day, princess."

You couldn't take it anymore, "Please Steve! Please let me cum, I can't take it anymore, please" You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. You really needed to cum so bad, he was edging you so hard.

You hated yourself for begging him. He kept the vibrator pressed against your clit, and with his other hand, he began fucking you with his fingers again.

He grinned, "What's the magic word?"

"Please…."

"Wrong answer, princess." He chuckled and stood up. He turned the vibrator on and started walking towards you. He held the vibrator against your clit and rubbed it in slow circles. "Now, be a good girl and spread your legs."

You took a deep breath and slowly spread your legs, revealing your dripping cunt. “Good girl.” 

"Yes, oh god, Steve, please." You were moaning and panting, trying to hold off your orgasm, but he was making it impossible. "I can't hold back much longer, Steve, I'm so close. Please don’t stop." You were moaning, you didn’t care for anything, you needed to cum. 

But the moment you were about to cum, Steve stopped again, and removed the vibrator.

"Steve! No! Fuck!" You screamed, tears pricking your eyes. "What the fuck! Let me cum!"

He laughed, "So desperate. How long has it been since someone touched you like this? I can tell by your reactions that it's been a while." He turned on the vibrator again, “You will cum on my cock, now beg me to fuck you."

You were shaking, crying, "Fuck you, Steve. I'm not doing that."

He laughed, "Oh, I think you will. You're so desperate, Y/N, so close to the edge. You'll do anything to cum." He slowly undid his pants and stroking his cock in front of you. 

Your eyes widened as you stared at his length, you didn't think it was possible for a man to have such a huge cock. But, the sight of him stroking his cock was making you even wetter, and you couldn't help but want him to fuck you.

"Tell me you want me, tell me how much you want my cock."

"Steve, no. Please." You tried to close your legs, but he put the vibrator between them, spreading your lips and pushing the vibrator inside.

"If you don't, I'll just leave you here. Alone. Unsatisfied."

You were quiet, you shouldn’t want him, you should hold a little longer but he was being so good to you. It had been long since a guy made you felt like this. 

"Come on, princess. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me how much you want me inside you. Tell me how bad you want my cock." He grinned as he kissed your clit, “I’ll give you as many orgasms as you want. I’ll fuck you better than any guy you know. I’ll make sure you will never be more satisfied than being with me again."

His words sent it toward your clit, you clenched your pussy hearing him said that. You were frustrated, sobbing, you needed release, and you didn't care about anything. You were going to beg.

 You caved in, "Fine! Fuck me, Steve. Please fuck me. I need your cock, please!"

He leaned forward and kissed you. He bit down on your bottom lip, and you gasped. He chuckled, "I bet you'd let me do anything right now, wouldn't you, princess?"

He turned the vibrator back on and started fucking you with it. You were crying and moaning, begging him to let you cum. You could feel your orgasm approaching, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "Fuck, please, Steve, fuck. I'm so close, I'm gonna cum. Fuck."

"Cum for me, princess.” 

You came screaming, your whole body convulsing. You were shaking and sweating, your body aching from the pleasure.

He turned off the vibrator and pulled it out of you. He kissed your cheek, "Such a good girl. I'm so proud of you, princess."

You were panting, trying to catch your breath. "I hate you."

"You don't mean that, baby. You're just a little overwhelmed. It's okay."

You looked at him, his eyes were soft and gentle, but you knew he was crazy. You were still tied up, helpless, and completely at his mercy. He was going to use his large cock to fuck you, and you couldn't do anything to stop him.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll take care of you. I promise."

He started to untie you and you were confused. Was he letting you go? You tried to scramble to ran away from him but you didn’t get far, he wrapped his arms on your waist lifting you. “Steve! Put me down now!”

He ignored you and brought you back to the bed. He put you down and pinned you, using his body weight to keep you still. "Don't think this changes anything."

He kissed you, hard and hungry. You tried to push him away but it was useless, he was too strong. "Fuck, baby, you taste so good." He kissed down your neck, biting and sucking as he went. He stopped at your breast, taking one nipple in his mouth and the other in his hand.

"Steve, please..."

"You want me to stop, Y/N?"

"Yes!"

"Well, that's too bad. Because I'm not stopping until I'm finished with you. And you're gonna love every minute of it. You're my girl, Y/N. I'm never letting you go.” 

"No, please...don't...stop...don't hurt me, Steve."

He smirked, "I'm not going to hurt you, baby. I'm going to make you feel good."

He let go of your wrists and reached down between your legs. You gasped as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. "God, you're so wet. So wet and ready for me."

"Stop..."

"No. I'm not stopping, princess. You're going to come for me, just like you did with the vibrator. And then, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you all night long."

You tried to wiggle away from him, but it was no use. He was too strong. You tried to kick him, “Princess.” He warned, you stopped your movement, his tone made you scared. 

He then smiled, “Good girl.” 

You were trapped, at his mercy. He was going to hurt you, he was going to fuck you, and there was nothing you could do about it. You were his.

He slipped a finger inside of you, moving it in and out slowly. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're gonna feel so good on my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you even more. He kept pumping them in and out of you, making sure to hit your g-spot every time. You could feel another orgasm building.

"Oh God...oh fuck, Steve...please..."

"Please what, baby? Do you want me to stop?"

"No...don't stop...fuck, Steve..."

"Tell me, Y/N. Tell me what you want."

"I want...I want you to fuck me."

"You're such a dirty girl, Y/N. You're gonna come for me, aren't you?"

"Yes...oh God, Steve...yes...I'm gonna cum." He fucked you faster, harder, his fingers pounding into you. You couldn't hold back anymore, you threw your head back and screamed his name as you came, your whole body shaking with pleasure.

"Fuck, that's it, baby. You’re so beautiful, princess.” He didn't stop, he kept fucking you, his fingers buried deep inside you. You couldn't believe how good it felt, you had never been fucked like this before.

He kept rubbing your clit, prolonging your orgasm. You were panting and moaning, trying to catch your breath. "That's it, princess. That's it. Just like that."

He moved down and spread your legs wide open. "Fuck, baby. You're so fucking wet."

He licked your slit, tasting your juices. You moaned as he lapped at your folds, sucking and licking like his life depended on it.

He pulled back and looked up at you, "You taste so fucking good, baby. I could eat you all day long."

"Oh, god...please, Steve..."

"Please, what, princess? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes..."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please, fuck me, Steve."

"Fuck, I love when you beg, princess."

His cock was rock hard, the tip leaking precum. He grabbed the base and stroked it a few times before positioning himself between your legs. He lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the tip through your folds, coating it in your wetness. "Fuck... Steve… It's not going to fit."

"It'll fit, princess. I promise." He slowly pushing inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. It hurt, but the feeling of him stretching you was incredible. He was so big and you felt so full. "God, you're so tight, Y/N. So wet. Do you like my cock, baby? Do you like the way it feels?"

"Oh god, Steve. So full." You moaned.

He started moving, thrusting into you. The pace was slow and steady, letting you get used to his size. "God, you feel so fucking good, princess. So fucking good."

It hurt at first, but the pain soon turned to pleasure. You were moaning, begging him for more. "Steve...faster..."

He grinned, "You want it faster, baby? You want me to fuck you faster?"

"Yes...please...faster..."

He quickened his pace, pounding into you. He grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Fuck, yes, Steve!"

"That's it, baby. Scream my name. Scream my name as I fuck you."

"Oh, god...yes...please, Steve... harder!"

He groaned and started slamming into you, fucking you hard and fast. "Fuck, baby. You're such a slut, begging me to fuck you harder."

You were lost in pleasure, moaning and screaming his name. "That's it, baby. Tell me how good it feels, princess. Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

"So good, Steve...it feels so good...I love you fucking me, Steve."

"Yeah, you do, don't you? You love being fucked by me huh?" He growled and pounded into you, harder and faster.

"I love it...please, Steve, more..." He felt so good inside you, you should've hating him, but all you wanted was more. You shouldn’t want him but fuck no one ever fucked you this good. "Yes, Steve, oh god, yes. Please fuck me."

"Yeah, baby, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you hard. I'll fuck you until you can't walk." He began thrusting his hips, fucking you hard and fast. He sped up his thrusts, slamming into you harder and deeper. You were lost in the pleasure, not caring about anything else. All that mattered was him and how good he made you feel.

You were so close, you could feel your orgasm building. "Steve...I'm gonna come."

"Yeah? You gonna come, baby? You gonna come on my cock?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, you are. You're gonna come all over my cock. You're gonna come for me, baby. Come on, princess. Come for me." He then went to sucked your neck and then bit it, hard. "Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself come. Rub that fucking clit while I fuck you."

You obeyed, reaching down and rubbing your clit. It only took a few seconds before you were coming, screaming his name and digging your nails into his back.

"Fuck, yes, princess. That's it. Come for me."

You were coming down from your high and he was still pounding into you

You moaned and came, your body shaking with pleasure.

He didn't stop, he kept fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it. You were so oversensitive and it was almost too much, but you didn't want him to stop.

He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up. "Oh, God, yes, Steve!" He slammed back into you, his pace relentless. "You like that, princess? You like me fucking you?"

"Yes! Oh, God, yes! Don't stop!"

He reached around and rubbed your clit, making you moan even louder. "Come for me, princess. Come for me again. I want to hear you scream."

You were close, you could feel your orgasm building again. He pinched your clit and that was it. You came, screaming his name. He continued to fuck you, not slowing down at all.

"God, I love it when you scream, princess. Keep screaming for me."

You were barely coming down from your orgasm and he was already pushing you towards another one. You couldn't take it, it was too much. You were oversensitive and it was almost too much. He leaned forward and kissed your neck, whispering in your ear, "That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all."

"Steve, please...it's too much...it's too much..."

"Shh, princess. I know. I know. But you can take it. You can take it, can't you, baby?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, I know. I know you can. You're my good girl, aren't you?" He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back. "Now, say it. Say you're my good girl."

"I'm your good girl." 

"Fucking right you are." He said and went to fondled your breast while he pounded into you, his pace unforgiving. His trusts became erratic, you knew he was close.

Then you remember, he didn't wear a condom and you weren’t on birth control.  "Please pull out! Don't come inside of me, please! I’m not on birth control!”

He stopped, but didn't pull out. "You're kidding, right? What's the point in fucking you if I don't come inside of that tight pussy of yours? I'm gonna fill you up, make you mine."

You started to panic. "Please, you'll get me pregnant. Please don't come inside of me."

"No, you're mine now. And I'm gonna breed you, just like you deserve. You're going to give me what I want and you're going to take it."

"Please, don't come inside of me." Your breath came in gasps, you couldn't hold back your moans anymore, even though you were crying. You tried to push him off, but he didn't let you, didn't stop fucking you.

"Please, please don't. I'll do anything you want. Please just pull out, I'll let you fuck me every morning. I'll be your good girl, please just not inside." You were sobbing now, but your cunt was dripping.

“Your body says otherwise, princess.” He picked up his pace again. Fuck, you like this, don't you? You're so wet. You want to have my babies, don't you? Fuck, yeah, you're a good girl, begging for my cum."

He felt you trying to pull away and he slapped your ass, hard. "You're not going anywhere, princess. You're going to stay here and take my cock. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you." He moaned, his thrusts were becoming more desperate, his hand left your waist and moved to your clit, rubbing hard.

You whimpered and he slapped your ass again. "Don't fight me, princess. Just let go and enjoy it. You're already mine, and now you're going to have my baby. We're going to have a family, Y/N. You're not leaving me."

You gave up, your body submitting to him. He was in complete control and there was nothing you could do. He kept fucking you, going even faster and harder. "There you go, baby. That's it. Let me take care of you."

Your pussy started to contract and you screamed, a wave of pleasure rolling through you. "Yeah, fuck. I knew you'd like this. Fuck, you're squeezing me, that's it. Take it, take it all, be a good girl and take it."

He moaned and pumped into you harder, until his hips stuttered and his cock pulsed.

"Ahhhh!" You cried as he spilled his seed inside of you, filling your insides. He groaned at the feeling of you, warm and wet, squeezing around him. He let go of your wrists and wrapped both his arms around your waist. 

When he was finished, he stayed inside of you, breathing heavily. "Fuck, that was great. Best sex I ever had."

 When he pulled out, you felt his come dripping down your leg. "We can't waste this, can we?" He thrusted his finger into you, gathering his come. You were still shaking, not able to comprehend what just happened.

He shoved his finger into your mouth. "You'll be a good girl, won't you? Now clean my fingers.”

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, you were too exhausted to do anything, just opened your mouth and let him shove his fingers down your throat.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you and the baby." He whispered. "You'll be the perfect mom."

"Oh, no. We're not done yet." He grabbed your face with his clean hand, and pulled you into a kiss. He pushed his tongue inside of your mouth, tasting his cum. "You're such a good girl. Now, I'll give you a reward."

He got down on his knees and pushed your legs apart, then leaned forward, licking your clit. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive skin, but quickly bit your lip, trying to keep quiet.

He looked up at you. "Don't worry, honey. I love the sounds you make. So sweet. Keep making those noises for me." He moved his tongue over your clit, slowly, teasing.

He licked and sucked at your clit, while you moaned, the sensation almost too much. "I know you're sore, honey. But I wanna hear you come on my tongue. Be a good girl and come for me, can you do that?"

"Yes."

He continued sucking your clit, and moved his hand down to your pussy, pushing his fingers inside. He moved his fingers in and out of your pussy, slowly, but it was still too much.

"Please, Steve, make me come."

"That's my good girl." He moved his fingers faster, sucking harder, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your moans were louder, your whole body felt hot.

"Steve, oh god, oh god, I'm coming."

You felt him smile against your clit, his tongue moving faster, sucking and licking. Your moans became screams, your legs were shaking, you felt the pressure building in your belly, your whole body shaking. You came hard, squirting on his face.

"You taste so sweet." He got up from his knees, his cock hard again, and pressed it against your pussy.

"Please, not again. It's too much. I-I'm too tired. I can't...I don't have any more energy." 

"I can give you energy, princess" He pushed into you, and you screamed, the feeling too intense. He pulled out and then slammed back into you, setting a brutal pace. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and moved his hips in a circular motion, the pressure in your belly building again.

You sighed, you didn't have any energy left. Steve had been non-stop ever since the day he took you, he didn't give you a single moment to rest. You were always filled with his cum. "You'll enjoy it, princess. You always do."

He started to thrust up into you, and you felt your orgasm building. "Oh, God, Steve!"

"That's it, baby, scream my name."

"Steve! Oh, God, Steve!"

You came, clenching around his cock. He groaned, and you felt him spill inside you, his hot cum filling you up. "Fuck, baby, you're so good."

He kissed you, and you could feel him getting hard inside of you again. "No, Steve, please. I can't..."

"Yes, you can, princess. I know you can."

He started to move again, and you knew you were in for a long night.

You couldn't help but moan, you could feel his thick length filling you up. His cum was still inside of you and it was a warm feeling. You were so tired and he could tell, "One more time, princess, and I'll let you sleep."

He was so big, and he hit all the right spots. You couldn't help but moan, it felt so good.

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his cum, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You moaned as he thrust deeper into you. He was so big and it felt so good. You were lost in the pleasure, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered was him and the way he made you feel.

"Say you want me to come inside of you."

"I want you to come inside of me, Steve."

“Beg me.”

“Please, Steve. I want your cum. Please fill me up.”

"Good girl." He kept his rhythm, the feeling of his cock inside of you was too much, but it was so good.

"Come for me, be a good girl and come for me."

Your body was shaking, you felt his cock throb and fill you up again, and then you were coming, your legs trembling, your moans loud.

"Fuck, yeah. You're such a good girl, so sweet, coming for me. So tight, fuck. Such a good girl."

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you. He held himself above you, watching your face, while he fucked you. His cock was still inside of you, twitching, the feeling so intense.

"And don't you forget it. You're mine, and no one else is gonna fuck you. Cause you're mine, and I'm gonna keep you pregnant, giving me all the babies I want."

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his mark and seed, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You didn't have a choice, he wouldn't let you go. He'd fuck you every day, until he had knocked you up. You didn't even want a baby, and he didn't care. He'd do whatever he wanted. You had no choice but to obey him. But he made you feel so good and gentle with you, you couldn't help but enjoy it.

You had given up, the police weren't going to find you. No one was. You were his prisoner, his plaything. And he was going to keep you forever.

But, in a twisted way, you didn't mind. Because he was always there for you, taking care of you, fucking you, loving you. You had never felt this way about anyone before. And deep down, you knew you were falling in love with him.

"I love you, Y/N. And I'm gonna take care of you, and our baby. Forever."

"I love you, too, Steve."

FIN

A/N : So what do you guys think? Let me know in the comments, I want to know about your thoughts! 

[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

[goodgirlofglory]

In the balance -

/Masterpost/

Status - ONGOING (last updated 20.01.2024)

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: non-con, dub-con, explicit sexual content, explicit language, smut, vaginal sex, oral (f and m recieving), anal fingering, praise kink, coercion, manipulation, explicit desciptions of violence, choking, graphic descriptions of blood, breeding kink, come kink, come play, forced pregnancy, depression, captivity, kidnapping (tags will be added along the way, but look at each chapter for spesific warnings), some very deppressive themes of psychological horror and manipulation. 

Summary: One unsuspecting evening, the stranger Steve Rogers appears bloodied and in need of aid at your doorstep. You immediately catch his eye, and he forces himself upon you within the hour. Several months of repeated visits from him results in your pregnancy, and the night you find out, Steve intereceps you on your way to an abortion clinic and kidnaps you to his mansion. Will you carry the child to term? Will you buckle under the pressure of capitivity? Will you escape the grasp Steve has on you, or will you submit to it and your own, conflicted desires?

Note: This started with a drabble (what is now Chapter 2 - To give you what you need) and continued after the amazing and exciting feedback I got. Now it has grown to a BEAST, and I’m really fascinated with the way things are developing. Thank you thank you thank you to all the amazing replies and comments and reblogs so far, it has truly inspired me!!! It’s so exciting reading your responses, so if you’d be so inclined, I’d loooove to hear your thoughts on the tale😍

This is the first series I write and post simultaniously, so I really don’t know how often I will update!! Hopefully often! Also, my photo editing skills have improved considerably since my last series That which lingered on his mind - check it out!

This is DARK! Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you to not engage if the content in the warnings triggers you. Minors DNI!

Chapter 1 - Taking what he wants

Chapter 2 - To give you what you need

Chapter 3 - Keeping you

Chapter 4 - Put

Chapter 5 - Off the deep end

Chapter 6 - Losing breath

Chapter 7 - Sinking

Chapter 8 - Ragged depths

Chapter 9 - The world in the balance

Chapter 10 -

My work is not to be distributed outside this blog!

My inbox is open for any of your thoughts or prompts or asks🦋

Luv you, all you sweet and twisted darlings! Enjoy!😏💞

[whereireid]

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | masterlist

pairing: senator!steve rogers x fem!reader

⍟ — nsfw content ahead. soft!dom steve. married life. housewife kink. oral [f receiving]. degradation of reader.

Summary: Your husband, Senator Steve Rogers, has been acting strange recently. He makes it up to you after he catches you snooping.

You don’t want to snoop on your husband.

Honest, you don’t.

Sometimes, though, duty calls. It feels like a crime to be in Steve’s office, perched at his desk, attempting to hack into his computer.

You’ve tried three different passwords, now. The first, the name of your daughter, and her date of birth — BeauRogers2012. The second, your anniversary — 19October2007. And, finally, the name of the family dog — CooperRogers.

Nothing. There’s nothing. All to no avail, the screen lighting a shade of red with each incorrect guess, your lips tugging down into a frown as you try to pinpoint exactly what his password could be.

If it’s not Beau, and it’s not you, and it’s not the family dog… then what is it?

Your eyes scan his office, desperate for a moment of realisation. You want something to click, your eyes dragging from a photograph of him and Bucky, to the miniature American flag which sits on his desk.

That’s it.

107thInfantryRegiment.

The computer lets you in. Steve’s desktop background is a photograph of you, him and Beau — baby Beau, curled in her daddy’s arms, asleep, in a pumpkin patch.

You pause. You feel bad, snooping, hesitating as you stare at the pixelated desktop background.

You feel awful, but you have to know what he’s getting up to.

Your lips press together as you swallow away the tightness in your throat, dragging the mouse towards his emails. Before you press down, you hesitate — Steve has never given you a reason not to trust him.

Yet, you’re in, now. You might as well look whilst you’re there, and you’re glad that you do, because a particular name piques your interest as you snoop through his emails.

Sharon Carter.

Steve’s ex-assistant, although you’d always assumed she was more than that. She helped your husband climb to the position of Senator — she was his number one fan, more obsessed with him than you.

Your brows knit together. Steve had told you that him and Sharon no longer speak, as a result of her switching to the Republican to spite him. This — these emails, which go back for months — is unfathomable evidence that he’s been lying to you. Your throat feels cotton dry as you frantically scroll, unable to comprehend that they’ve been communicating for months without you knowing.

“What are you doing?”

Fear cracks through your body like a whip. You feel like a thin sheet of ice, cold flooding through your body as your eyes dart up from the computer screen, focused on your husband, who appears unamused by what he’s found.

“So, what are you doing?” Steve repeats when you don’t answer, his lips pursed as he stares at you. The suit he’s wearing is somewhat tight on his arms, and you can see his muscles flex beneath his clothes. “Be a big girl and use your words, honey.”

“You’re — you’re messaging Sharon Carter.”

His eyebrows quirk upwards in amusement. “You went through my emails,” he comments, “without my permission.”

“You’re messaging Sharon Carter,” you repeat, your voice coming out a whisper.

The look that he gives you is degrading. It’s a look of pity — his jaw ticks slightly as he cocks his head, his tongue darting over his plump, pink lips, leaving a glistening sheen in its wake. “And you’re going through my emails,” he reiterates, pushing himself off of the doorframe. “Without my permission.”

“Are you cheating on me?”

An amused expression flitters over Steve’s face as he approaches you. You feel timid in his chair, his large frame overbearing as he looms over you, the blue irises of his eyes impossibly sheathed by his black and blown pupils.

“Cheating?” He asks, beginning to lower himself to your height. You brows furrow in confusion as he kneels in front of you, his hands placing themselves on your knees. “No. Why? Did you think that I was?”

“Yes.”

“Liar,” Steve whispers from beneath you, your skin prickling with goosebumps as his fingers run over the pleated fabric of your skirt. “You just wanted to know what I’ve been doing.”

You push at Steve’s head, forcing him to look up at you. You frown, a twisted warmth pooling inside of your stomach as his hand caresses the plump flesh of your thighs. “Yeah. You’ve been doing her.”

He snorts. “If I wanted Barbie, I would’ve had Barbie.” His hand beckons your thighs apart, and you flush as his hums in content. “No underwear. Whore.”

Your face flushes with warmth. "That’s what you like, isn’t it?”

Steve grins, his fingers parting your folds softly, his knuckle pressing against your swollen clit. You try to kill the moan which climbs up your throat before it can slip past your lips, but it refuses to die. “Like music to my ears,” he comments, his stubble grazing your skin as he peppers deliberate kisses to your thighs, his tongue a cool stimulant to your hot skin, “you’re a naughty girl, you know? Going through my things and then getting all worked up over what you find.”

You can’t bare to look down at his smug face. His blue eyes twinkle as he gazes up at you, and you force your eyes shut, the delicious, dirty feeling of desire brooding inside of you. It pulls at your heart and burns wildly inside of you, only to be smothered by the feeling of his fingers gliding through your folds.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you found?”

You shake your head, your eyes scrunching shut as his tongue finally makes contact with your heat. “Oh, God,” you whimper as he glides the muscle through your folds, his fingers pushing inside of your cunt.

“Not God. Just Steve.”

His lips twitch, tugging upwards with a smile. Pleasure rides through you in a gentle wave as his tongue makes contact with your clit, his motions gentle as he suckles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

It feels so deliciously wrong. You’re in his office, sat in his chair, with him between your legs. He wasn’t even meant to find you here — you were supposed to be in the kitchen when he got home, but you’d lost track of time.

“Since you won’t tell me, I’ll make an assumption, and I want you to tell me if I’m right.” His voice is gravely, rumbling against your cunt, and you shiver as his fingers curl inside of you. “You went through my emails. You saw Sharon Carter’s name and you had to click, and you read them in detail and you found information.”

“Yes,” you say shakily, groaning as his nose nuzzles into your pelvic bone, his tongue rolling small circles into your sensitive bud. “Yes, I read them. She’s — she’s a bitch and I don’t want you talking to her.”

His brows quirk upwards, his fingers carefully scissoring your tight cunt open. You clench down around him, the pointed look he’s shouting you making you tense. “She’s my spy. Why else would she have switched to Republican last minute?”

“Because you married me and she wishes it was her.”

A wave of pleasure ripples through you as he suckles on your clit, his fingers heavenly as they roll inside of you. “Is she the one getting her cunt eaten in my office, honey?” When you don’t answer, he hums, his voice muffled as he continues to roll his tongue up and down your sticky, wet folds, “no, she’s not, so stop being a brat and let me finish speaking.”

As if to make a point, his fingers still inside of you, and your chest burns with disappointment. “Okay. I’ll stop being a brat,” you submit to him, your voice shaking slightly as you buck your pelvis towards his hand.

“Good girl." His praise makes you shiver, a delicious pleasure crackling through you as his fingers contain their steady motions, his lips peppering soft kisses against your heat intermittently

“The information that you found is very important people, only meant to be seen by people in government.” A delicious pleasure cracks through you like a whip as his fingers glide through your glistening folds, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he rolls his thumb over your sensitive clit. “And, honey, you're not in government. You've got too much of a dumb baby brain for that."

You whine, your legs trembling involuntary as Steve licks up a deliberate stripe up your cunt, his tongue flattening against your clit. "I'm not dumb," you protest weakly, your thighs tensing as his fingers curl inside of you, the lewd squelching of your cunt echoing around his office walls.

Your body becomes electric with sparks, exploding with ecstasy as his tongue licks stripes up and down your slick. It's so intimate, so gentle — his movements are precise, your legs jolting at every movement, every lick.

"Really? You're not?" Steve pulls away, tutting from below you. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that only dumb wives went through their husband's stuff without permission."

"I'm sorry," you say.

"You're not," he replies, his tongue flat as he swirls his muscle around your swollen bud, "but that's okay, honey. I don't expect my wife and her dumb, baby brain to feel sorry for me. I'm the man of this house. I don't need feeling sorry for."

His kisses grow sloppy, his nose pressing heavily into your pelvis. You let out a shaky breath, your stomach flipping as Steve's fingers glide in and out of your cunt. A moan catches in your throat, and you're unsure of whether or not it actually escapes your lips or dies before it gets to do so.

Steve's movements are skilled, deliberate. You melt into the office chair, the leather fabric growing slick beneath you as you softly behind to grind against his face. He's slow and teasing, his tongue swirling around you bud, nipping at it softly. The pinching pain makes you gasp, your breath hitching in your throat as he groans against your cunt.

"Come on, honey. I know you want to let go," he purrs against your cunt, the sensation sending shivers up your spine. "I know you're not holding that much of a grudge against me that you're denying yourself of an orgasm."

You pout. He's right — of course he's right, he's your husband and he knows what's best for you. You finally allow yourself to relax, fully, a soft whimper slipping past your lips as Steve's movements makes your stomach tighten.

And then, it happens. You grow tired of holding back, needy and desperate, and Steve's fingers curl inside of you again, and you let go. Your slick paints his face, your legs trembling as he laps at your heat, his groans sending sparks to your core.

By the time he pulls away, you feel weak. The sight of him only makes you grow weaker, his chin glistening with your slick, his eyes black and blown, a sultry grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His hand runs over his lips and he hums, satisfied with the orgasm that he drew from you.

"I'm sorry, honey. You should have never seen those emails, or the documents attached to them. They're not for you to be concerned about." His hand runs over your thighs, his motions gentle and soft as he caresses your skin. Steve's lips purse, his voice dropping dangerously low as he speaks. "But if you ever go through my emails again, you'll be in serious trouble. You got that, honey?"

Your body grows stiff as he reaches past you to turn the computer off, his lips nestling against your head in the process. The kiss he plants to your forehead is soft and gentle, and you smile up at him.

“Yes, Steve.”

You nod your head like an obedient little wife, and he smiles down at you as he does so.

Domesticated bliss keeps him sane.

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

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

wc: 2.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

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

You don’t really get the chance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. That’s not quite right. 

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

Your stomach roils.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the fear finally comes.

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

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

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

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