#dark steve rogers imagine

[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.

[scandinavianfairytale]

Look at you

Pairing: Captain Hydra x Reader

Warnings: Dark fic, 18+, Steve is not a good guy in this, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, mentions of fighting, murder in self-defense, mentions of blood, stabbing, cursing, threats, intimidation, smut (non-con, unprotected sex (STDs are no joke, make sure you're using protection), rough sex, praising, degradation, multiple creampies, excessive cum, fingering, multiple rounds, passing out during sex). 😬

A/N: This is a VERY DARK work of FICTION, please DO NOT READ if any of the warnings trigger you, you are a minor or you find any of them disturbing. 🙏

Steve has been observing the scene from the shadows. He liked playing with his food first and you looked absolutely delicious. Prim and proper woman, with your perfectly pressed white shirt, now sporting crumpled sleeves from when his men grabbed you and brought you to him.

He loved seeing the fight-or-flight response live. There was something so satisfying seeing all thoughts running through his victims’ head as if they didn't know they were so transparent. In most cases everyone's first instinct was to flee from seven potential assailants, but then there was you.

It was almost liberating to see you scanning the room for something. Everyone's eyes stopped at the door, but yours skipped through it as if you knew escape wasn't an option.

Steve was surprised when your eyes stopped at the corner of the room where the pool sticks were neatly put away after yesterday's game of pool. Shoving one of the men away you made a beeline for the sticks, kicking back at another man as he grabbed at your hips to stop you and grabbing one of the sticks before breaking it over your knee.

After that it was like watching a play at the opera. His men fell one by one, some were stabbed, some were unconscious and the last one was pinned to the wall. You thought you had won. If you could call killing people a win...Your victory was short-lived as clapping pulled you out of your trans.

"Well well well, look at you." Steve's voice was low, tainted in amusement as he circled you. Specs of blood littered your face and your previously pristine white shirt. Your grip on the broken wooden pool stick tightened as something similar to panic started rising in your chest. You knew this man.

Steve Rogers.

Captain Hydra.

The man that everyone feared. And you knew at that moment that this was all for nothing. You were in the belly of the beast and even if you managed to run away, you wouldn't get far.

"Come on, Gorgeous, this isn't the time to give up. Show me that fire again. I loved the show you just put on for me." Steve gripped your chin, making you meet his cold blue eyes. He could see how you were trying to decipher his words, trying to understand if he was serious. Your hands pushed him away the next second and for the sake of being dramatic Steve stumbled a few steps back, as if you actually had the strength to match a super soldier.

"Why am I here?" You demanded, but your voice betrayed you. You both knew you were scared, but too proud to actually just stand there and surrender. And that's what Steve liked about you. He found another one that will put up a fight and it made his whole body tremble in anticipation of what's to come.

"I got bored of my previous toy and I needed a new one." He said nonchalantly. Your face contorted in disgust.

"Why me?"

"I liked the fire in you." He cocked his head to the side, observing you and you shifted your stance as his eyes wondered down your body. You have never felt more exposed while fully clothed as you did in this moment. "When you slapped your date when he went in to grab your ass." A shudder ran down your spine. He has been watching you.

"What? Did you think I picked you at random?" He let out a chuckle. "Oh, Sweetheart, I've been watching you for weeks. I saw all those little dances in your underwear when you thought no one was paying attention even though you never closed the curtains." Steve took a step towards you and your legs trembled, but still you took a step back. "And I heard all those phone calls to your friends and home visits. I heard all the songs you sang in the shower. And all those little moans you let out in your bedroom." He was standing in front of you, your back against the wall and his breath tickled your ear, making you shiver. There was nowhere to run or hide anymore. He consumed everything in your field of vision. "Oh, Doll, you have no idea what you did to me." He reveled in the paralyzing fear you exhumed.

"P-People will know I'm gone." You tried challenging.

"No they won't. You just took a sabbatical and are volunteering in Colombia." His hand caressed you face in a loving matter. "And depending on how long I'll find you interesting, that's how long your volunteering trip is going to last as well as your time alive on this Earth."

You turned away from him as tears stung your eyes. He kissed the top of your head, making you shut your eyes and tears fall down your cheeks. Clenching your teeth, you refused to sob for the man in front of you.

"It'll be alright, Doll. I can make it good for you, make you enjoy the last moments of your life." His hands wandered over your pulse point and gripping your hips, pulling you to him. "But only if you behave."

Panic started consuming you, more tears blurred your vision as the situation he described sunk into your soul.

What are you going to do to escape this monster? There has to be something - anything. The promises he made, made you nauseous.

Your vision focused on the knife that was poking out of one of the unconscious men. If you could just get your hands on the knife...maybe you could do some damage. Or at least piss him off so much that he kills you on the spot. Anything was better than the insinuation Captain Hydra made.

"What do you want from me?" You finally asked, still refusing to look at him.

"Giving up so soon?" Steve mocked. "I want you to keep me company, especially after missions." He smirked as he thought of all the scenarios of when and how he's going to play with you. Bile rose in your throat as you imagined it, but sensing that Steve relaxed for a second, you dove for the knife, grabbing it just in time as he grabbed your ankle to pull you back to him. You let yourself be dragged towards him, before slashing across his arm and scrambling to your feet, running around the pool table stationed in the middle of the room.

"Bitch." Steve smirked and licked at his wound. He could see how fast your chest was raising and falling. He knew you were scared and panicking, seeking an exit. Like a cornered animal faced with a predator. He liked games like this.

"What's the plan, Doll?" He asked as you rotated around the table.

"I'm improvising." You bit back.

"There's no escape. Even if you manage to kill me, by some miracle, we are so far underground that you will never come back to surface again. But if you play nice...I might even let you see the sun and breathe some fresh air again." Steve offered, but you shook your head. You weren't delusional, overpowering a super soldier was never going to happen but...he could at least put you out of your own misery and just kill you. As you walked around the pool table again, you quickly tried running at the bar, to grab some alcohol to throw at him, making the wound sting. Steve jumped over the pool table grabbing at the knife to pull it out of your hand, but you turned just in the right second and stabbed his calf, making him yell out in pain. Your victory was short-lived as he grabbed you by the neck, twisting you around and slamming you on the pool table, keeping you pinned by the neck. Your hands searched the pool table for something to grip or throw or hit him with, but all they encountered was the soft surface.

"I was going to play nice, Doll, but fuck this little stunt just cost you that privilege." He pulled the knife out of his wound and cut through your jeans, pulling them apart, exposing your ass to his eyes. He ran his fingers over your slit, making you squirm, wanting to get away from him, but he kept you in one place with his strength.

"Relax, I'm not going in without at least a bit of prep. I don't want to ruin you for the rest of our time together." Steve whispered into your ear as his fingers entered you and started exploring the dry hole. He went deep, deeper than you could ever reach alone and he found your spot that always made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Ah there it is." He smirked as he started massaging that spot and juices started collecting around your entrance. Your body started responding on its own and your hips started meeting his invading fingers.

"There we go, nice and wet." Steve pulled his fingers out of you and licked them clean, before you could hear his pants coming off. Warning bells sounded in your head and you tried lifting yourself up, gathering all your strength, but you were immediately slammed back down and a sharp slap landed over your pussy, making you whimper.

"Be a good little girl and take this cock." Was all he said before he slammed into you. Steve groaned as his tip kissed your cervix and he saw your hands balling into fists. He knew he just broke you. You weren't broken yet, but he'll get you there soon.

"You fit like a glove." He commented with a smile and pulled almost completely out before slamming in again. Your poor pussy took his assault as he unleashed his stress and punishment. And he unleashed it over and over again. He kept fucking you for the next few hours, making both of you cum too many times. Pain turned to pleasure and then back to pain as he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. You were completely spent, barely hanging on to consciousness, your abused overstuffed pussy leaked his cum and it oozed onto the pool table and the floor. But Steve was still hard.

"Come on, I'm ready for another round." He slapped your pussy again and your knees buckled, too sensitive from all the rough treatment you received from the super soldier. Steve was unbothered by your state, grabbing one of your legs, he put it on top of the pool table, exposing your messy pussy to him.

"Did my little hole had enough?" He chuckled as he gripped his cock and ran it through your pussy lips, making you whimper.

"Please. Too much." You begged, barely above a whisper. Clenching your pussy, you tried with the last ounce of strength to make him stop, be he just chuckled at your futile attempt.

"I'm not done with you. You only rest when I say so." The super soldier said before he slammed into you again. You yelled out in pain as your walls were met with another intrusion. Your vision blurred as his hand pressed your clit harshly, trying to make you cum again. You couldn't fight him anymore and your eyes closed, as you chased unconsciousness and the last thing that crossed your mind as Steve made you cum, was how much of this you'll be able to take if this was going to continue.

Thank you for reading! 🙏💙

The picture was taken off Pinterest (though I think it's actually from DeviantArt) so all credit for the picture goes to the artist! 😊🙏

I think this is the darkest thing I have ever written 😬 trifect of abuse - physical, mental and sexual abuse...sorry about that 😬😅

[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.

[babyjakes]

you all over me.

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

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | double penetration

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

warnings | dark ddlg dynamic (soft!dark!daddies of captive!little!reader.) dub/non-con. size kink. reader is held down and fucked. stretching. loss of anal virginity. unprotected double penetration (vaginal and anal.) mentions of anal training/stretching/fingering. clit rubbing. crying kink. praise and encouragement. mocking/humiliation. forced orgasm (with implied previous forced orgasms.) overstimulation. they come in her. little bit of aftercare.

word count | 1,386

an | this is written in the same au as clear blue water, with captive!reader and her soft!dark!daddies.

Tears poured down your damp cheeks as your face was tucked into the warm crook of Steve's neck. Arms reaching up weakly, you almost wanted to cling to the safety of his broad form as he lay beneath you, heavy breaths harmonizing with your own.

But that wouldn't do for your daddies- not for either of them. "Come on, babydoll. Where's that pretty face," the blonde crooned as his hips thrust upward over and over, rocking your own. His hands were on your waist, Ari's just above them as both the men worked to keep you upright and in place, their massive lengths pounding into you with steady rhythm.

They had been fucking you like this for what felt like hours, but the sensations of fullness and overstimulation you were experiencing were still just as overwhelming and horrible as when they had first pushed into you. Steve had gone first, both of the men knowing you would tolerate his part better. They were a bit concerned when you were in tears from the vaginal penetration alone, but as usual, they wouldn't be discouraged. As difficult as it was, and as pitiful as you were to watch as you were held down and split open, Ari was eventually able to work himself into you as well.

As they kept their four strong hands on you, working you up and down over their throbbing cocks like nothing more than a fleshlight with a pulse, you honestly couldn't tell which forceful insertion felt worse. It was all blurring together, the world nothing more than a streaky haze through your steady tears. The men shared a sympathetic glance with each other before Steve refocused his attention back on you. "Poor girl," he murmured lowly, bringing a hand up to brush away your tears with his thumb. "Know it's so hard, little one. So hard to take both your daddies' cocks at the same time, isn't it?"

"So full, aren't you, baby?" Ari nodded in agreement, his oversized member stretching your poor little bottom to its absolute limit. Despite the generous amount of lube they'd used and the time they'd spent patiently coaxing your tiny hole open with their greedy fingers, nothing could ease the horrible burning feeling that bloomed through your lower half as you were taken in the ass for the very first time.

"Look so pretty like this, all stretched out stuffed full of us," Steve groaned, his cock twitching so hard within your aching walls that you could feel it, your poor tummy spasming in response. To the man lying comfortably on his back, there had never been a sight quite as beautiful as this: watching from the front as your tiny holes were so helplessly violated, large hands holding you in place and giving you no choice but to sit there and take it, your perky tits bobbing perfectly as your figure was worked at a steady, punishing pace.

And though he couldn't see your chest as well, or the pretty little faces you were making as your body was used and abused so sinfully, Ari's view from behind you wasn't anything to turn his nose up at, either. He loved the way your back arched up as their dicks kept you angled forward towards Steve, your adorable ass bouncing in rhythm as his cock tore into your throbbing, achy hole. He could easily keep you going with just his hands alone; with both him and Steve being so much larger and stronger than you, it wasn't difficult for either one of them to overpower you and allow the other to make better use of a second pair of hands.

Which is just what Steve did as his partner held you up and in place, giving him the signal of a nod. "Go ahead, Stevie. Let's give some attention to that pretty little clit of hers," Ari suggested. Steve spit on his thumb, bringing the other hand down to pull back its protective hood as he smeared the clear wetness all over your poor little bundle of nerves. Your body jerked harshly at the stimulation, but you couldn't do anything to stop them or squirm away; you were completely helpless, having no choice but to let the blonde rub your exposed little nub in quick, harsh circles.

"Please, p-please... n-no!" you choked through your tears as your whole body began to shake with sobs.

"C'mon doll, doesn't that feel good? Know you like it when we pull back the hood and rub you right there, right on your cute little button," Steve frowned and faked worry at your cries, though he and Ari both knew perfectly well the way their actions and words were tormenting you.

"That's right," Ari mused from behind you as he kept your trembling body moving across their stiff lengths, "our pretty girl loves having her sweet little clit rubbed. Makes her come so hard, doesn't it Stevie? Poor baby can't help it when her daddies play with her clit, but it sure is cute to watch her try and fight it."

"So cute," Steve hummed in agreement, watching intently as your breaths began staggering, your little feet kicking weakly as your knees shook and struggled on either side of him. "Oh? Looks like she's getting close here," the blonde sang as he continued his skillful work over your slick, sticky nub. "Can feel her little pussy fluttering- what do you think, babydoll? You gonna be a good girl and come for your daddies?"

Watching as your buildup continued, Ari and Steve shared a knowing nod, both increasing the speed of their respective roles as their cocks pumped more vigorously inside you. This is the moment they had been waiting for; of course they were hoping to come as you did. A few orgasms had been forced from your trembling form earlier as you were held down by one and stretched out on the other's fingers, but this was meant to be the grand finale, the climax you would all share, whether you were willing or not.

"Can feel her squeezing us- she's getting close," Ari grunted as their dicks clapped lewdly into your dripping holes. "That's it, sweetheart. Come on, almost there..."

Your resistance was a losing game. As much as you fought and defied them each time, a sense of helplessness was never absent from within you; you knew you'd be forced to come. And with both of them thrusting into you at an almost immeasurable speed, and Steve's torturous hands working your clit the way he knew best, there was nothing for you to do but let them have their way with you. Eyes squeezing shut as your tummy tightened, your little toes curled as your orgasm was ripped from your faltering grasp. You came long and hard, Steve and Ari's triumphant words of praise merely echoes as heat and shocks of ecstasy overcame your exhausted body.

Warmth burst in your core as you were pumped full of both the men's come, Ari's fingers digging in almost painfully around your waist as their cocks swelled and sputtered within you. When you were finally coming down from your impressively long high, you let out a soft, broken cry as Steve finally eased your body down to rest limply against his front. "Shhh," you could hear him humming soothingly, someone's hand rubbing your back as you sniffled and sobbed into your captor's chest. "Easy pulling out of her," he was murmuring to Ari as the world seemed to slow around you.

"You're okay, baby. You were so good for us," the brunette was praising you softly from behind as he shifted a bit inside you, trying to measure how careful he needed to be as he and his partner now shifted their focus towards damage control.

"Don't cry, little one. Daddy's here, Daddy's got you," Steve kissed the top of your head as he cooed at you, his broad arms cradling you lovingly as you clung to him. You were desperate for any comfort and tenderness you could get at this point, even if it was straight from the hands of your abusers. This is usually how you wound up at the end of the day, a weeping mess in your daddies' arms, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

[biteofcherry]

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; ex-pli-cit; knife kink; choking; choking kink; praise;

word count: 7k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 6. Downpour

~ * ~

Victims often described the events of their traumatic experience as a blur. Or a film montage of chopped scenes, often black and white, or with one color prevailing. Sometimes their minds protected themselves so strongly they dissociated, their consciousness floating away into a safe space.

Nothing of the sort happened to you on your dreaded wedding day. 

If anything, you felt more present in the moment than in the days leading to it. 

Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid. 

You felt the constriction of the built-in corset of your wedding dress, the soft swish of the embroidered, shiny tulle in the chalice of the wide skirt; as well the warm amazement at how beautiful you looked. 

Even though your spite tempted you to pick a dress that would manifest how much you didn’t want to say your vows, you couldn’t help the flaming love you experienced at the sight of yourself in a stunning wedding dress. 

A fucking princess style, out of all. 

You wanted to hate it, to cross it out purely to not give Steve the extra satisfaction, but your parents teared up when they saw you in it. Maybe they had some qualms about the speedy wedding, but they sure got on board with it when they saw your face glowing. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because you felt beautiful, not because you loved your future husband. 

Whose handsome face you couldn’t look away from as your father walked you down the aisle. 

Dressed in a sharp suit, steel gray a tone warmer than his cold heart, Steve watched you every step of your way to him. Others perhaps saw in his face awe, getting all mushy over how much he had to be in love with you, but you knew it was a glint of triumph. 

You said your vows in the wide garden surrounding Steve’s property, under an arch of lush peonies and vines. You were sure it’s only thanks to the two glasses of Prosecco and Steve’s hand holding yours a tad too tightly, that you recited your promise to him without a hitch. 

With how smooth and soft Steve’s voice was, how he held your gaze captive, you’d think he was expressing true, deep feelings when he said his vows. 

True was his possessiveness. 

Steve displayed it first in the way he kissed you - draping you over his arm, like in old Hollywood movies, and branding your lips with a breathstealing, passionate kiss. Unable to resist, your arm sneaked around his neck, fingers splaying on the back of his head, while your other hand gripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket. 

Then by keeping you occupied each dance, allowing only your father to lead you through two songs. 

To your further annoyance, Steve turned out to be a really good dancer. Or maybe he was simply good at holding you and controlling your body as he guided you across the wooden planks built into a dance floor specially for this occasion. 

“You look beautiful, Princess.” 

There was no breathtaking awe in Steve’s voice, like you used to imagine your true love would say those words one day. But it was no coy game, either. Steve meant them, it was an honest compliment. 

It was also his pride in owning you. 

“I’m already your wife, all is signed. No need for bullshit,” you stared over Steve’s shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze and see what desires may shine in the ice cold blue irises. 

He twirled you suddenly, then pulled you back to him. Kept you pressed against him tighter as he brushed his lips along your cheek. 

“I’d think by now you know I don’t really bullshit anyone,” he whispered in your ear. “I do find you stunning. And I’ll repeat those words later, when I have you naked in our bedroom.”

Heat filled you faster than after that shot you sneaked right before soup was served, to calm your nerves and numb yourself further as the reality of being now Mrs Rogers started settling in. No, that fast dose of booze didn’t scorch your insides the way Steve’s promise of the wedding night did. 

“Not gonna happen,” you tried sounding fierce, but your voice came much breathier than you’d like. 

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Steve chuckled, tip of his tongue flicking the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps to appear all over your skin. 

His hand on your back was placed low, but he dipped his fingers even further, toying with the ribbon of your corset right above the curve of your ass. 

“We have a deal, after all.” He reminded you. 

You wanted to argue with him, that technically you didn’t agree to it, but you knew it’s futile. You suffered some disturbing sexual deviancy and your pussy tingled at the mere thought of Steve touching it. So you planned on simply being sneaky and wiping yourself dry before entering the bedroom. And then staying resolved and unbothered, so that Steve’s dark touch didn’t force a single drop of slick out. 

You considered stuffing your nose with something too, because the scent of Steve alone now that he was pressed to you so close, was enough to warm up your body. 

To ignore your own responses - to his smell, to his touch, to the images of wicked acts he could do to you - you focused your gaze above Steve’s shoulder. Glancing at random guests, at the stunning flower arrangements, trying not to hurt from the fact your parents looked so joyous. 

You frowned, noticing Natalie smirking around the rim of a champagne flute as she talked to a man whom you recognized as Steve’s most trusted right hand, Bucky. While flirting at a wedding wasn’t something unusual, alarm bells rang in your head at the prospect of Natalie endangering herself. She was already at risk, being associated with you, but to dance with a wolf was like playing with fire that was surely going to consume her whole. 

You didn’t know much about Bucky, practically nothing, but if he was this close to Steve then there was no trace of innocence or clear conscience in him. 

No one could stay pure, if they followed in Rogers’ murky wake. A realization which made you wonder, if your own core may rot and dissolve at his feet. 

Your heart fluttered, as Steve twirled your body again. Chalice of your dress opened, shimmering in the sunlight as if encrusted in crushed diamonds. In reality it was a faint sparkle compared to the actual bling of the diamond ring on your finger. 

You glared at it with disdain when Steve first put it on your finger, seeing nothing but a leash. A brand of ownership and reminder of torment. But the more glances you stole, the more irresistible it was to admire. 

It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it. 

Steve pulled you back to his body, pressing you even closer than before. Tip of his nose grazed along yours, the icy blue of his irises warming into the shade of pure sky. His breath tickled your mouth, mingling with yours as your lips parted on a gasp. 

Then his lips were on you. Soft and coaxing, tempting you to respond in submission. 

You told yourself it’s the surprise of it that made you give in, the spectacle you had to continue for the guests, but you couldn’t completely deny the jolt of excitement that spurred heat into every crevice of your body, then melted it into a pliant surrender. 

You were vaguely aware of the camera flashes as pictures of you were taken. The sound of cheering and clapping barely registering through the haze of your heartbeat pounding in your head. 

There was no triumphant smirk on Steve’s lips when he reluctantly pulled away, which would undoubtedly shake you out of daze. Instead, there was a dark hunger that clenched your heart in fear and your cunt in anticipation. 

You found yourself surprisingly reluctant to step out of his embrace as the song ended and Steve took the opportunity to build the lie further by asking your mother to dance.

Trying to avoid dancing with Steve wasn’t as clever a solution as you first thought, because the bastard found other ways to instigate small gestures of intimacy that confused your brain and tickled your clit like a living tongue. 

Like him smoothly commenting how delicious that seasoned rib was and how you should try it, then promptly feeding you a piece of it.

With his fingers. 

Purposely slipping his fingertip between your lips along with the meat.

It was a split of a second, but enough to have a wave of heat wash over you and your thighs clench.

You thanked heaven that you picked a princess dress, because the layers of the skirt at least hid the movement that would otherwise betray you.

A gulp of wine couldn’t wash away the sensation, nor did it wipe the lewd image of Steve forcing his fingers into your mouth. Would they be salty? Would they feel heavy as he pressed them against your tongue? Would his rings feel cool? 

Then you didn’t even have alcohol to numb yourself. Steve made sure your glass was filled with water only as the celebrations proceeded. When you glared at him, trying to yank your hand out of his grip, he said he won’t have you sloshed on your wedding night.

“Don’t want you to worry it was only the booze that got you wet,” he sucked on your earlobe. 

But made it look so sweet, the way he pressed his cheek to yours and gently held your hand, that to the others it had to look as if he was whispering love admissions into your ear. 

The bastard played supportive and soothing as he caressed your back when you were saying goodbye to the guests leaving the reception late in the evening. Your mom took your teary eyes as an overwhelming, but positive emotion that made her all mushy as well. 

You couldn’t cling to her, or your dad, crying in despair that they were leaving you with a monster. Not when that monster was constantly by your side, being most respectful and charming towards them. Displaying a twisted care for you that eased your parents’ worries while irritating you. 

There were fireworks bursting in the sky in abundant splashes of color as Steve led you to the master bedroom. 

Everyone was gone, only the wedding planner’s team was rushing around like busy bees, cleaning up and packing leftovers. And they all pretended they didn’t see you. You thought some of Steve’s men were also circling around, but you didn’t know yet if it was to keep an eye on the workers, or if it was their routine to guard Steve’s mansion. 

Once inside the bedroom, you blurted out your need to use the bathroom and promptly locked yourself inside. Only for a few moments you entertained the thought of staying in and sleeping on the tiled floor, but you knew Steve wouldn’t allow that. He’d sooner take the damn door down than give you reprieve.

He wanted to wreck your body too much. 

And you feared how you may react to it. 

As you pulled up layers and layers of tulle, to use the toilet and clean yourself from the already obvious reaction to Steve’s touch; you accepted that your anxiety wasn’t for debauchery, but for the inappropriate eagerness of your body.

For fuck’s sake, you were dripping and coming on command when he defiled you with a gun!

How much stronger was your reaction going to be when he caressed you with his hands and mouth? 

After wiping yourself dry, you cleaned your hands and with your head held high stepped out into the bedroom. You still planned on fighting tooth and nail to not arouse from whatever he had planned. 

Having taken off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Steve waited for you in the middle of the room. His eyes glinted with satisfaction when you stepped out. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him. 

“I knew you’d come out like a good girl, Princess,” he crooned, not at all bothered by your stomping and glaring daggers his way. 

“Didn’t feel like watching a door being splintered into pieces,” you snapped, clenching your hands on the skirt of your dress as you stood right in front of Steve.

“Of course. That’s the only splintering you were concerned about,” he teased, running a single digit down the column of your neck. “But I know, Princess. I know there’s this curiosity that draws you to me. You may hate it, but your body is eager to learn what I’ll do to you.”

“It’s not. I’m not!” You protested, yet you didn’t flinch when his finger drew a scorching line from one collar bone to the other, then dipped lower to trace your cleavage. 

“I want to believe your words, Princess,” Steve said in pretend seriousness, “but let’s check in with your body, too.”

As embarrassing the thought of him flipping your skirts up was, you inwardly prayed he’d do it quickly. If he touched your pussy now, he’d find you dry. But if he prolonged the whole thing, you had no certainty it would stay this way. 

“I’m aware how fond of my gun you are,” his words startled you, stopping your heart for a split of a second then sending it into a fluttery beat. The memory of the warm muzzle dragging along your thigh and slipping under your panties spurred heat to pool low in your core. 

Shit! No! 

No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet! 

“But I didn’t think it’s an accessory appropriate for the wedding,” Steve’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile that only added to his criminally hot look. 

“So I had something special to be custom made for this occasion-” he touched your cheek in a sweet caress- “and for any future occasions… with my wife.”

Your breath hitched in your lungs when he called you his wife. He made it sound reverent, but at the same time his tone dripped with that dark triumph that reminded you there was no way out from his clutches. 

You watched Steve dip his hand into his pocket and then a glint of steel flashed before your eyes. 

A switchblade so sharp and polished so smooth that it seemed to be honed out of pure light. The handle was a shimmery white, with undertones of rainbow. Mother of pearl, you realized. 

Steve had his fingers wrapped around it, but purposely flipped it out, pinching the hilt between two of his fingers so you could see the silver initials engraved on it. Your initials, but with your last name being Rogers. 

Eyes widening, you went still as Steve brought the blade to your skin. Just the tip of it, you barely felt its touch, but your mind was already running with images of cuts and drawn blood. It should scare you, cause tears to fall out. Instead, you felt your pulse thundering in places that shouldn’t react to fear with excitement. 

Steve drew a soft line over the curve of your breasts and dipped the steel into the valley between them. 

He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the front of your neck. His eyes heated up as your pupils widened in reaction, once again proving how weak you were for this single gesture. Keeping his hold firm enough you felt the silver of his rings pressing into your skin, Steve traced the blade along the trim of your wedding dress and then down your ribcage.     

“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Steve’s voice was deceivingly soft, as if he really cared if you were scared. 

You doubted he’d stop, even if you claimed that you are. You’d sooner expect him to mock you and then proceed to torment your body, proving to you how much you craved his depravity. 

But it wasn’t the physical torture you wanted to avoid. For how bad Steve was, how he fucked up your life, somehow you knew he wouldn’t harm you physically. Well, perhaps if you betrayed him. He’d kill you then. But as long as you followed his plans, you were certain he wouldn’t raise his hand on you.

Steve’s thumb brushed along your jaw in a seemingly soothing caress. You turned your face to the side, but he forced you to look back at him when you admitted in a defeated whisper: 

“I’m afraid you will make me like it.”

Fingers still curled around the front of your neck, Steve inched closer. Blue of his irises seemed to glitter an impossible hue up this close, mesmerizing you. 

You were a prey fully ensnared. 

“I will, Princess.” Steve’s lips teased yours. “I will give you pleasure that hurts so good.”

A tiny whimper escaped your mouth. You wished it was a sound of trepidation, but it held an unmistakable undertone of need. It was too late now, you felt a wet spot forming on your white undergarments. 

Steve kissed you softly, reverently; like a husband in love might kiss his beloved wife on their wedding night. Combined with the pressure of a sharp blade at your side, it made your head spin. 

“Stay still, please,” Steve squeezed your throat lightly, before releasing you and taking a step back. 

He walked around you, slowly making a full circle as he admired you. Teasing you by making you wait for what he does next. When he stopped behind you and you felt the puff of his breath on your nape, your fingers trembled. 

Then the cool blade pressed where Steve’s warm breath tickled you a second ago. He drew a sharper line down the middle of your back. You didn’t feel the sting of a cut, but he put enough pressure for you to feel a tingling scratch that dispersed into pleasant burning. 

You gulped when you felt him hook the knife under the lacing of your dress.

“I can just take it off.” You grumbled, frowning. It was a stunning dress and even though you wouldn’t be wearing it ever again, you weren’t happy with the idea of it being cut to pieces.

“You could,” Steve chuckled, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you-”

You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.

“-make that lovely sound.” 

Steve relished in each cut, though you weren’t sure if he was more entranced with your little noises (which you tried to suppress, but failed at times), the act of cutting itself, or with your naked skin being revealed as the bodice of your dress parted. 

When the corset opened fully, dropping and exposing your upper body, Steve smoothed his hand along your back. Which elicited another gasp from you. 

You expected the blade to return, to draw dangerous patterns on your fragile skin. Steve’s warm, gentle caress sent a different kind of jolt down your spine, causing your tense muscles to relax in foolish trust. He pressed himself to your back, moving his hand around your front and boldly cupping your breast. A wave of heat seemed to scorch your face from the inside, but it also pooled between your thighs. 

He peppered kisses along your neck as he played with your breast; sucked on your skin as he switched his attention to the other tit. 

There was no logical thought in your head when he pinched your nipple hard and you arched; one of your arms flying up to grip the back of Steve’s head. It was an instinctive reaction of your body’s deepest need. 

Suddenly, Steve’s touch left you. Only to pull impatiently at your dress, forcing the abundant skirt to fall down. Big hands - one still holding a knife - clenched around your hips. He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed close to nothing. 

Then he was dropping you onto the grand bed. Before you even managed to push yourself up, he flipped you over onto your back. A split of a panicked thought almost had you inching away, reheating the idea to fight him. But one of Steve’s hands clenched on your ankle, while the other splayed on your belly - the one holding the knife. 

“Lie back, Princess.” Steve’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it chimed with certain urgency. 

You stilled. Though you preferred to think it was because of the blade he left on your belly in a warning, not because he asked you to. 

Definitely not because you couldn’t look away from him as Steve undressed in a few quick, practiced moves. 

The sight was so enticing you didn’t think of grabbing the knife and possibly changing the flow of the night to your advantage. 

Without his shirt on, you saw the wide plains of Steve’s chest and chiseled abdomen; saw the tattoos entwining his arms and upper body. Dark patterns, with a few splashes of rich color, that only added to the dark, thrilling aura of Steve Rogers. 

You swore that while Steve was a scary motherfucker in his usual wear, he’d appear an even more lethal demon if he approached his victims half-naked. 

Your gaze shifted downward when he pushed his pants down, but you forced it back up to his face. Mostly because you feared the sound you may make, if you saw his cock. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you staring. 

When Steve knelt on the mattress and then crawled forward, you dropped your head to the pillows and focused on the ceiling. A part of you craved to watch him, to await in trepidation, but you still held onto that sane part of your brain that told you it’s wrong to want it. Wrong to give in to him so easily. 

“You’re beautiful, Princess.” He repeated the words, just like he promised.

Calloused fingers traced up your legs. The sensation this touch evoked made you want to clench your thighs, but Steve’s knee was wedged between your legs, preventing it. 

Eyes focused on your face, Steve seemed to study and memorize every spark of reaction to his touch. He picked up the knife again. The grin that he flashed you as he brought the blade to your skin was all satisfaction and condescending praise. He didn’t say it, but you almost heard the Good girl. For doing as he told you. For waiting. For being so obviously responsive. 

He knelt above you as he trailed the knife along your exposed body. His gaze shifted between the glint of the blade and your face. As his aim traveled south, Steve moved along with it. 

Corner of his mouth tugged upward in a dangerous smirk when he slipped the tip of the blade under the white lace of your panties. 

Your whole body went rigid. Your mouth opened, your breath becoming ragged. 

And yet, when he slashed the fabric apart, you felt a new gush of slick. 

Steve cut the other side of your panties as well, then pushed your thighs further apart. Exposing your shameful reaction. 

“Princess,” he licked his lips, “it appears that you’re wet.” 

He tapped the wide side of the blade against your clit, the jolt of it making you clench around nothing. Steve’s eyes darkened and a low, growling kind of sound rumbled in his chest as he used the knife to flick away the lace that was sticking to your drenched folds. 

“You’re not wet. You’re dripping.” He seemed to be in awe of the discovery. 

It was in a sense a comforting feeling, to see more than just a cocky triumph. To see Steve affected by the situation. Perhaps not as strongly as you were, but with enough force to make you think perhaps it was a novelty for him as well. 

“Say it, Princess.” Steve’s gaze flicked back to your face; his own eyes full of dark hunger. “Say how wet you are, for me.”

Your lips clenched shut, a stubborn frown drawing your eyebrows together. It was humiliating enough that you were so lewdly on display for this bastard, that your body betrayed you and was ready to take him. Admitting it aloud would only strip you of all defenses. 

When Steve slapped your inner thigh, the sting of it seemed to zing directly to your clit. 

“Ohh!” You couldn’t suppress the gasp, but then managed to spat angrily - “Fuck, fine! I’m wet for you, you bastard.”

As much as you hated it, your anger was less about him demanding your admission and more about him not touching you where you most needed it. 

“Your husband.” Steve reminded you, with sinister glee. 

With his knee, he pressed your other leg down. Then dragged the knife along the skin of your inner thigh. This time you felt the prick of pain as he cut the tissue. You hissed, head lifting up to stare at the tiny, thin wound. A single drop of blood pearled at the end of it. 

Then Steve’s mouth was on it. Warm and sucking, and drawing a surprised moan out of you. 

He sucked and licked it clean, making you forget about everything else. His mouth moved up, closer and closer to your core. When he finally licked into your folds as if he was biting into a ripe fruit, you dropped down with a cry. 

Fingers gripping the sheets tightly, you rode sensations unknown to you until then. Muscles strained in pain as you held yourself stiff, still sensing that blade pressed against your skin. Steve had his arms wrapped under and around your thighs, keeping you spread as he feasted on your pussy. One of his hands was holding the knife against your abdomen, the sharp tip right on your mound. 

“Oh God, please!” Your eyes clenched shut. “Please, please, Steve. I-”

As he lapped at your clit, lashing it with rapid flicks then sucking on it so sweetly, you felt your orgasm building painfully high. You were heartbeats away from climaxing.

“Stop, please!” You begged. “The knife- I can’t- I need-” 

Even if you were pleading for him to stop what he was doing all together, Steve wouldn’t listen. Not when he was so close to owning you completely. You needed something slightly different and you hoped Steve would recognize the urgency.

Mercifully, he paused. Though he held his lips close to your clit as he looked up at you from between your thighs - his eyes reminiscing of the stars frozen in dark waters of the northern lakes. 

“What do you need from your knife, Princess?” He asked, tilting the blade an inch lower. 

It almost touched your clit. 

“Place it away, please,” you started explaining, sensing that he wouldn’t comply without a satisfying reason. “I- I’m about to come. And I will, um, move. I can’t stay still. I just, I never could. I can’t.” 

“You’re afraid I’d cut you, if you get all squirmy and arching?” Twinkle of amusement lit up Steve’s eyes.

“Please, Steve.” You feared tearing up, if he refused you. You also feared he would make you cum and cut you, and that you weren’t ready for that combination of pain and pleasure. 

He hummed, holding your gaze as he licked your clit again. Your muscles tensed anew, he had to feel them straining in your thighs where he held you. Then, very slowly, he untangled himself from you. Steve let your thighs drop to the mattress freely. He lifted the hand holding the knife and you sagged in relief. 

Steve leaned over you, bracing his weight on one arm. His broad frame cast a shadow over you. He brought the blade up to your face, you could see a fragment of your reflection in it. 

“Kiss it.” Steve ordered. 

You stared at him, bewildered. He waited, surprisingly patiently, holding the blade inches from your mouth. He called this knife yours. Had it custom made for you. Used it on you in ways you never imagined in a sexual encounter. Teased what more he could do. What he probably would do to you in the future. And he wanted you to kiss it as if in gratitude for all the lewd things it would unleash on you. 

Swallowing nervously, you lifted your head enough to press your lips against the steel. 

“Good girl,” he praised. 

Your gaze followed Steve’s arm as he reached toward the nightstand to place the knife on it. Then his hand swiped along your arm, caressing muscles that strained from still gripping the sheets. 

He coaxed you back into the moment with a sensual kiss. The way his tongue dipped between your lips was soft and seductive. You’d never expect someone like Steve to be able to kiss like that. 

Heat quickly returned in pulsing beats to your clit as Steve kissed down your body. He settled back between your thighs, with a moan tasting your pussy once more. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked you back to that edge. Then pushed you over it as he pushed a finger into you. 

Steve kept that finger pumping steadily into your fluttering walls as he trailed wet bites up your body. He was hovering above you. Mouth, glistening with your arousal, was a lick away from you when he thrust a second digit inside. The stretch made you keen and Steve drank up every grimace you made. 

“Touch me, Princess,” he tempted you, curling his fingers just right. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.” 

If your brain wasn’t a post-orgasmic mush, maybe you could muster some stubborn will to do the opposite. But he was right, you itched to touch him, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath your fingertips, to see how hot he ran. 

Hesitantly at first, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders. Your gaze found one of the intricate vines that weaved along his shoulder and up his neck, a branch sprouting from it curved down and over his pectoral. You traced it with one hand, your other instinctively moving to Steve’s back. 

When you traced the contoured muscles of his abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly at the narrow path of coarse hair leading southwards, Steve increased the pace of his fingers. It stirred the fire in your core into a burst, evoking another moan. 

“Lower.” Steve gritted out, putting more of his weight and heat onto you. “Wrap that small hand of yours around my cock, Princess.” 

It was dirty - his words and the squelching sound of your pussy as he fingerfucked you. 

But it also made you drop your gaze between your bodies, searching for a glimpse of that dick. It swayed heavy, half-hard, right above your hip. Your walls clenched unexpectedly as you watched it. 

This wasn’t the first cock you saw in your life. You were far from a blushing virgin. There was something about Steve, however, that made you feel nervous and out of your depth. It appeared that sex with him was a whole new, scary discovery. 

Steve urged you with another command and your hand slipped down instantly. Hot, pulsing flesh in your palm, twitching and hardening as you curled your fingers around the quite impressive girth. 

It would stretch you so deliciously. Steve didn’t need to voice it for your imagination to ignite with the phantom sensation. 

You tightened your hold, swiping your thumb over the widened, red head. At Steve’s deep moan, your eyes flew up to his face, watching his pleasure in wonder. He didn’t hide it from you, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t affected. Still, you felt yourself more at his mercy than he was at yours. Especially when you sensed that small kick of elation at giving him pleasure with your touch. 

You smeared the beads of precum down his shaft and started stroking. It was a mismatched rhythm, your focus faltering every time Steve drove his crooked fingers against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you. 

When Steve sat back on his haunches, you stopped your movement. A rush of heat filled you with sudden shyness as his gaze roamed over your splayed body. 

Skin dewy, breasts heaving with quickened breath, legs spread wide. Your hand was still around his cock, your ring and wedding band catching sparks of light. Steve’s own fingers were buried deep in your cunt, your slick glistened on his palm and wrist. 

Steve moved his other hand up your body, marveling at your curves and softness. He gave your breast a playful squeeze before trading his fingers further up. Fingers encircled the front of your neck in a familiar way. 

“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.” 

Then he was withdrawing his fingers from your heat; milky slick sticking in a web between his digits. He knocked your hand away and spread your wetness all over his cock. 

He held your gaze as he dragged his dick between your puffed folds and into your hole. A pause for you to catch your breath, then he was thrusting in one fluid, firm stroke. 

A curse bubbled on your lips, stretching into a moan as he split you. Unable to reach him at the moment, your hands fisted the shits, gripping and twisting the fabric. Nipples stiffened into hard peaks, your chest arched upward at the same time as your head bowed back. 

There was no second to adjust, no mercy. Steve pounded into you roughly, setting a steady tempo. He watched your body move along the mattress, at least as much as his hold on your throat and your hip allowed. Your breasts swayed with each thrust, your thighs shook with each slap of his hips into you. 

He watched your eyes glaze over as an orgasmic haze crept over you anew. Your pretty mouth stayed open, letting out all the sweet noises. It took barely a few of his thrusts and you were cumming again. 

Everything was still spinning in your head when Steve yanked your hips more upwards. Your buttocks rested on his thighs, legs thrown over his hips as he fucked into you. Grip on your throat tightened more and more. Your eyes flew open, one of your hands grabbing onto Steve’s wrist. Unbothered, he kept choking you lightly. At the same time, his other hand sneaked across your abdomen. 

With your airflow limited, every sensation seemed to heighten impossibly. The stretch of his cock, the pressure of his hand on your lower belly. The coil tightened and tightened, and when Steve swiped his thumb over your engorged clit, you shattered with a soundless scream. 

Steve released your throat and the gulps of air you instinctively tok between raw cries seemed to prolong your orgasm. It twisted into a craze that felt agonizingly good. 

So good it caused you to cry, salty streaks dripping out of the corners of your eyes and down your temples. 

Through the thunderous buzz of blood pounding in your head, the muffled sound of Steve’s voice reached you. Your brain was unable to function enough to recognize it, but it sounded like your name. And something akin to ‘Atta girl. 

When Steve shifted, you welcomed his warm heaviness like a comforting blanket, mapping his sweaty back with your hands. He was still moving, speeding up, as he braced both of his forearms on the mattress. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips starved as he kissed and nipped. 

He rested his forehead against yours as he came with a loud moan. Warmth of his spend filled you and though you didn’t think of it now, later you would be thankful for the little contraceptive implant you had. As the fog of pleasure held you in its grip, you didn’t care for the consequences. Not when Steve was still rocking slightly into you, his cock twitching. 

You sighed, scrunching up your nose, when Steve pulled out a while later. Your pussy throbbed in protest, or maybe it was from the ache that was starting to make itself known. You leaked, too, which would make you really embarrassed if you weren’t too boneless to care. 

You managed to wipe at your temples and cheeks, where remnants of tears still wetted your skin, before Steve was touching you again. He flipped you onto your belly then licked a line up your spine with a broad stroke of his tongue. 

“Aren’t you done?” You huffed, fearing you may not be able to survive more. 

“Far from it,” Steve laughed and playfully slapped your ass. 

You were thankful that he spent quite some time just kissing and touching your back, your ass and your thighs. Whether he was giving himself enough time to get hard again, or if he was this dedicated to learning your body. 

When he sat on your thighs, his knees braced on the outside of your closed legs, and squeezed your asscheeks, you expected him to play there more. Instead, you felt him spread you enough to expose your pussy. He slid inside slowly, but it still took you by surprise.    

Steve laid on top of you, balancing his weight on his arms as he pulled back and thrust back in. The angle unraveled a completely new type of sensation.

“Oh my- fuuuck!” You couldn’t help the unladylike, high pitched squeal. 

Nails scratching at the sheets helplessly, you spluttered mewls as Steve purposely rocked his hips back and forth. 

“Awww,” he cooed, “is that the spot, Princess?” 

Then he pulled back and slammed back in. Each thrust grazed that ultrasensitive area; each time he sunk deeper and deeper, too. 

If you were moaning and crying when he fucked you the first time, these sounds were a symphony of pitiful and needy that surpassed others. At one point your mouth just hung open, saliva seeping out of the corner and staining the mattress. 

Your toes curled and you helplessly kicked your feet up and down, unable to shift in your position to ease the increasing, maddening pleasure. With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your gaze mindlessly focused on the ring on your finger where your hand rested beside your head. 

Steve’s fingers entered your vision, brushing along your hand and intertwining with your fingers. A mockery of softness in the ruthless way he was fucking you. 

Your cunt tightened around him, producing more slick the longer he railed that tormenting spot. The sound of him fucking you turned more and more squelching. 

“I want you to soak the sheets,” Steve grunted. When you made a noise of protest, he paused to force your legs wide apart with his feet. “Come on, Princess. Make a mess.”

And you did. 

Hiding your face in the bedding didn’t suppress the string of cries as you climaxed, squirting a small pool of release. 

Steve fucked you through it. Each of his hard thrusts ripping your whimpers into a choked single vowel as you went lax beneath him. 

“Fuck, Princess.”  He groaned, feeling your wetness drip down his balls. “I would wife you up for that alone. You really-” his hips snapped harder and faster- “are. Fucking. Perfect.” 

Your fingers remained intertwined, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, as he came. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was buried inside of you, or maybe this time his orgasm was much stronger, but you felt every throb and every spurt more clearly than before. Felt yourself full with his cum and dripping excess of your combined spend. 

Long, long minutes later, when Steve pulled out and dropped next to you onto the mattress, you didn’t even blame him for not having enough power (or decency) to get you a wet cloth. 

Honestly, you didn’t have any strength to get up either. 

It was later, as you resigned yourself to falling asleep in the mess that you made, that you heard the sound of a drawer being open. Then a soft, wet wipe was pressed to your inner thigh. It was a surprise. Felt a little weird, too. But you rested quietly as Steve wiped you and himself clean, tossing used tissues into the bin hidden behind the nightstand.

When he laid back down on the unsoiled side of the bed and reached for you, you glared at him. 

Yes, he fucked your brains out. You seriously doubted there were any functioning brain cells left. Yes, you were officially married. Still, it didn’t mean you were going to play a docile wife in every aspect of this torment. 

“You want to sleep on the stained sheets?” Steve arched a single eyebrow. “Swallow your stubbornness and scoot here, Princess.” 

It was voiced as if he was giving you an option, but he didn’t wait for your decision. Astonishingly easily, he sneaked a hand under one of your thighs and simply lifted you enough to relocate you. 

Nestled to Steve’s side, with one leg hiked over his thigh, you willed yourself to stay awake long enough to sneak out when Steve dozed off. Unfortunately for you, your will was too fucked out. 

You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.

[lilacevans]

𝑜ℎ, 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦, 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒… 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑.

— pete’s place🤎

[krirebr]

What You Can Do for Your Country

Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1916

Summary: Being Captain America is a lot harder than anyone realizes. Steve thinks you might be able to help.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, face slapping, no smut but heavily implied future noncon, general meaness, explicit language, governmental malfeasance. It's dark, you've been warned. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @cafekitsune

Masterlist

A/N: I'm not fully sure what happened here. I've been wanting to test out the waters of posting writing here for awhile, but I'd sort of had it in my head that I'd wait for a challenge that spoke to me. This is an idea I've had floating around for awhile and when it finally coalesced into something writable, I thought 'fuck it, why not?' So here we are. I'm kind of terrified that I'm just tossing this into the void, so if you read it and have a sec, please let me know what you think!

You wake up slowly. There's no sound or light, so it takes you a moment to fully realize that you’re even awake. You can't see anything, but you can feel that you're slumped in a corner and that the surface beneath you is hard. You’re definitely not in your room. Where the fuck are you? You try to move into a more comfortable position, and that's when you hear the soft jingle of metal clinking against itself and feel a slight tug on your leg. Your hands immediately go to your ankle, and you find a leather cuff around it, with a chain connected to the wall. You're fully awake now, breaths coming out in short, uneven bursts. Don't panic don’t panic, you try to tell yourself, but that mantra seems to only be making things worse. There's so much to panic about. You reassure yourself that you're still dressed. Things could be worse. The thought strikes you as unbelievably bleak.

You take a deep breath and try to focus. What's the last thing you remember? You were leaving work. The sun was setting, but it wasn’t completely dark yet. A car came up behind you? Or maybe a van? Everything's fuzzy and disjointed when you try to remember anything beyond walking out the door of the coffee shop.

A door suddenly opens into the room, closer than you expected. The space is smaller than you thought. Light floods in from the hallway, blinding you painfully and obscuring the figure stood in the doorway. They flick on a light in the room and the pain in your eyes becomes worse. You cover your face with your hands, trying to lessen the glare and help your eyes adjust. You hear a chuckle from the doorway and slowly look up at the man you can now clearly see. 

It takes a moment to recognize him out of context. But only a moment. It's Captain America. Steve Rogers. You know him. Sort of. He comes into the coffee shop sometimes, since it's right by Avengers Tower. Tall whole milk latte with a sprinkle of nutmeg. He's usually with one of the others. He's nice, tips well, friendly. As friendly as he is with anyone he comes across. It's kind of his whole thing. Of course he's nice to everyone, he's Captain America. Big smile, patriotism, and apple pie. All that jazz. What is going on?

At first, your desperate heart thinks that he must be there to rescue you. But then you actually take him in. He's not in his uniform, but dressed casually, in a white t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, his arms crossed over his massive chest, leaning on the door frame. 

And he's smirking at you. 

"Good, you're awake," Steve says, voice calm and even, but there's a hardness in the way he looks at you that has you trying to cower further into the corner as he approaches. There's nowhere to go and it only takes a few strides for him to get to you. Now that you can see your surroundings, you seem to be in some sort of cleared out walk-in closet. There are bare shelves on the walls and two empty hanging rods line the longer sides of the room. He crouches down in front of you. "I wasn't sure how long you'd be out."

You want to scream at him to let you go, ask what the fuck is going on, something but instead what comes out is a pathetic "Please don’t hurt me!" 

His face completely softens and he coos "Oh sweetheart," as he brushes away a tear you hadn’t realized you'd shed. Maybe you got this wrong. Maybe he is here to help you. Maybe it's going to be al– "What else do you think you're for?"

And then, before you've even had time to process what he's said, he slaps you across the face. Hard enough to make you slump back into the wall, uselessly cradling your cheek, tears streaming down your face freely now. You've seen enough clips on TV to know he didn't put his full strength into it and that, more than anything else that's happened so far, has you so terrified you can barely breathe. 

Steve tips his head back and briefly closes his eyes, growling out an elongated "Fuuck." He touches the hot spot where he hit you and gives a satisfied smile when you flinch and whimper. "I was right," he mutters to himself. "This is exactly what I needed." 

You’ve never really felt like an especially small person, but even crouched like this, he dwarfs you. Up close you’re able to really appreciate how gigantic he is and it makes any fight left in you completely disappear. What are you supposed to do, up against a super soldier?

But you also can’t just completely give in yet, so when his hand starts to wander from your cheek down your neck and to your chest, you do your best to bat it away and put as much strength as you can into your “Don’t touch me!” 

When that same hand comes up to roughly grab your chin, you try to avoid him, but you’re shown once more that there’s really nothing you can do. Steve squeezes cruelly as he says “You are going to figure out very quickly that ‘don’t’ is a word you're not allowed to use with me. Along with no, stop, and wait. You’re mine now and I can do whatever I want with you.” 

He lets go of you with a slight push and the back of your head hits the wall. You let out a whimper and he chuckles again. You finally give into your confusion and let out a quiet “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” he says, and this time you recognize how that word drips with condescension. “This must be so hard for a stupid little thing like you.” He brushes your hair off your forehead with an exaggerated pout, and you don’t get how this could be the same man that always made a point to ask how your day was going whenever he ordered from you.

He stands up so that he’s truly towering over you now. “You have no idea how hard it is to be Captain America,” he says, “to always be expected to do the right thing, to be good and kind and wholesome,” he snarls the last word. “It’s impossible to keep up without losing your goddamn mind. I can’t just be a symbol of all things patriotic  and virtuous all the time. I’m a real person, not a fucking bald eagle. It's becoming a problem.” He looks down at you and smiles the most terrifying smile you’ve ever seen. “That’s where you come in. There are some days when I just need to hurt something. So now, every bad mood, impure thought or filthy desire I have, I’ll just take it out on you. And then I’ll be able to go back into the world and be the Captain America they need me to be.”

You just stare at him, wondering how you’ve never noticed it before. This man is insane. An actual sociopath. What kind of plan is this? This isn’t– no! “You can’t just do that!” You argue. “I’m a person, too! I have a family, a job, a life! People will notice I’m gone. They’ll come looking for me.” 

Steve laughs outright this time, and it’s startling in how cruel it is. There’s really nothing of the man you thought you knew in the one standing in front of you. He crouches down again and gets so close to you that you can feel his breath. “Oh baby, you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you?” He turns his head slightly to whisper right in your ear, “Everyone already knows what’s happened to you.” He leans back so that he can see the horror on your face. How is that possible? It can’t be.

“You really think I just grabbed you off the street, all by myself? Oh no honey. I went through official channels for this. I requisitioned you. I meant it when I said it was becoming a problem. I’ve been… slipping, lately. And when I slip, it doesn’t just affect me or my team, but the entire country. It affects the fate of the entire free world. So when the president himself came to me and asked what I needed to get my head on straight, I told him what I’ve told you. A pretty little thing to hurt and I gave him your name. And so you were delivered to me today by a fleet of government vehicles. Your family’s been well compensated. They’ll never have to pay taxes again, for a start. And you, I’ve given you an incredible purpose. A chance to serve your country, a chance to help all of humanity. Everytime I’m able to go out and save the world, it’ll be because you’re here, serving me. You should take pride in that.”

You can’t help starting to cry again. This can’t be true. It just can’t be. Your family can’t have– No. Steve’s lying or they didn’t have a choice or– “Why me?” is all you’re able to eke out from the jumble in your head. 

“Because every time I went into that coffee shop and you looked up at me with those big eyes and that sweet smile, all I could think about was how badly you needed to be ruined. Broken. And how I wanted to be the one to do it.” 

You let out a sob at that. You always thought that when it came down to it, fight was your fear response. But now you understand, you’d never been truly afraid before. In the face of real, hopeless terror, all you can do is freeze. There’s nothing else to do. You can’t fight him. You can’t run. No one is looking for you. You’ve never felt so powerless in your life. You’re pathetic and weak. That’s what Steve saw in you, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here.

“Those tears are so pretty, baby. Got me so fucking hard.” He stands up with a slap to his thighs. “Alright, enough talk. I’ve waited too fucking long for this.” He walks to the opposite wall and gestures to you. “Get up, take off your clothes. I’ve been dreaming about what’s under that uniform.” You cry out and huddle further into the wall, but he clucks his tongue at you. “Trust me when I say that you don’t want me to have to tell you twice.”

You nod needlessly and get up, your legs shaking underneath you. You throw off your shirt just to get it over with and push down your pants until they get stuck on the chain. You pause at your underwear, but a growled out, “Keep going,” has you robotically removing them as well. 

You try to cover yourself, but know that it’s useless. He paces in front of you and groans. “Fuck, you’re so soft. You’re gonna break so good, baby.” He takes off his shirt and throws it on top of your own, his muscles rippling with the movement. You can’t help the whimper that comes out and Steve grins at you as he approaches, hands beginning to unbuckle his belt. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll teach you exactly how to be the perfect little toy for me.”

[dungeonpuppykai]

| Too Sweet |

Description: You and Steve try to put 'it' in for the first time after his serum procedure. 

Pairing: Soft-Dark 40's Post-Serum Steve Rogers | Lover!You. 

Warning(s): Soft-Dark!Steve, 40's misogyny and courting bc let's be so fr, obsession, daddy kink, allusions to spanking, dumbification, power imbalance, corruption kink, fluffy smut, p-in-v penetration that y'all are STRUGGLING with, dash of breeding kink, they love each other, smut with plot.  

Note: @chxrryhansen 's new Too Sweet Steve edit is responsible for this and she doesn't even know it, pfft!

.

"Steve!" Your protest is half giggle and half whine as you wince before landing a punishing smack to your lover's shoulders. "Ouch!" His body is also vibrating due to the humor that the two of you find in this strange situation. 

"Come on, baby" he rasps out against your ear, his elbow that presses into your pillow besides your head causing it to dip towards itself. "I am trying my best here, bear with me a little" try he sure is doing. You can almost feel him fighting against his impulse to just fuck all and push inside your tiny entrance that has never faced a girth this big. 

"I knowww~" you whine as you press your knees against his sides that have become wide and muscular since the procedure. "But it's still ouchie" Steve sighs as he freezes the little bit of pushing that he was doing.

You feel bad, you really do. 

Because it is as hard for you to hold back as it is for him.

Pressed up against your lover that you haven't properly had like this in a week, your bare skins nearly leeched to each other's, one of his rough manly hands fondling your breasts as the one he's holding up his heavy body with strokes your hair to comfort you, the feeling of his stern muscles digging into the tender insides of your thighs and then his cock that you need to save your life at this point so close to your weeping walls yet so far away that you can lose your mind from the frustration. 

But it just hurts so fucking much! 

You had always thought your lover's size to be a decent one because it kept you satisfied and very happy. 

But now…

This. 

You did not want to be an ungrateful brat, as Steve would say, because you weren't a stranger to the valor that he held for his country and you had always done your best to cheer him on so you weren't to be misunderstood.

But good Lord above, they had swapped your cotton candy lover for a rough and tough beast who couldn't bear you being out of his sight for more than a few minutes. 

It seemed that whatever voodoo they worked in that fancy machine had also amplified his obsession with you, like everything else. 

Steve sighs as he kisses your cheek softly. You understand that he's a man and he has his needs that he has been compromising for a week because you recoil at the sight of his cock each time he tries to seduce you. "I've already stretched you out with three fingers, baby. At this point I might as well put my fist in there" you're on thin ice and you know it. 

No man is as considerate as he has been all these days as it is. 

Your cheeks burn and you flush hotly in embarrassment, letting out another whine as a result before landing a flustered punch on his arm. "I- It's not my fault if your fist would still be smaller than your dick!" Though your tone is one that has gotten you bent across his lap more times than you can count, the manner in which the indirect praise boosts his ego saves you this one time.

And his fingers weren't the easiest thing in the world either because they've grown three times their size!

"Aw, is Daddy's cock too big for your little baby pussy, honey?" You cannot help but let out a horrified guffaw as you cover your mouth, eyes wide. 

"Oh, my GOD, Steve!" He is grinning at how appalled you look because of his obscene words. "Stop with that! I told you the other day that it's not right!" You have no idea how, but two months ago your lover had picked up this strange pet name for himself that he liked to use whenever you two were having an intimate moment. 

"Oh, but baby" your back arches in an instant as you grunt and feel your claws fly to his shoulders that they dig into. He has started to push again. But your pussy is nearly as stubborn as he is, it seems. Because neither wants to back down. "Who put it in your pretty little head that you can decide what's right and wrong around here?" 

Your thighs tremble at the authority in his tone and you whine, feeling your ass cheeks clench at the way the girth of his tip feels around your sore band of muscles. Fuck, this is like losing your virginity all over again but only worse. 

You almost feel mad at yourself.

Because you're so wet and prepared.

Ready.

Just why can't it go where you need it most?!

"N- No…" The smell of his shampoo hits your nose when he dips his head into the crook of your neck to make a new love bite, both to try and distract you as well as mark you as his. "D- Didn't mean that, Shtevie, sowwy~" you mumble meekly and he deeply hums against your skin. 

"Good girl" if it weren't for the way in which one of his hands lovingly caress your scalp, you would have teared up due to how small you suddenly feel. "Now shush up for Daddy and let him do this bratty little pussy in" an involuntary gasp leaves you again but you suppress it by kissing his moist temple so he can't hear it and think you are being disrespectful. Your baby pussy has irritated him enough this past whole week already. 

"Owiee…" You grunt again as you feel it breach its way into the initial curve as it has been doing for hours now. "S- So big, Daddy" what? No! You're not like your naughty lover! Y- You're just trying to somehow calm him down so you don't get in trouble! 

Like you did when you initially did not respond to his unrelenting advances in school and he ended up scoring really low in a test because of that so he dragged you out of drama class to bend you over and teach you a thing or two about manners and how to treat those who are nice to you. Then he made you apologize, kiss his cheek and cook him dinner at your house to make it up to him. 

You are glad he did that though, because Steve is your once in a lifetime and there can never be another like him. 

He just knows best. 

But that doesn't mean you are okay with getting punished just because your pussy is too tiny!

"Good babygirl" your lover grunts against your nipple that his mouth is latched onto now, hips doing their best to not damage you but still weasel his cock past the hard round shaped barricade of your pubic bone. "I know it's scary but you can trust Daddy because he knows that if that pretty little pussy can push out his brats one day, it can surely take this cock too." Steve loves how you shudder under him at the thought but still answer him Yes, Daddy. 

Because you are all his to do with whatever he pleases.

That is the reason why he shook hands with HYDRA and wiped out SHIELD the day he was transformed. 

Because HYDRA had promised him a comfortable future with you where he would not have to part with you for too long but still provide you the life that you truly deserved as his sweet little girl who loved and accepted him in a state that everyone had treated as a laughing stock. 

You were worthy of the world.

And he was determined to give it to you. 

.

I didn't mention the hydra plot twist up there because well, surprise! 

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [1 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You learn the hard way what it takes to survive this new life. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, More tags to be added

A/N: i had too much fun with this concept so i decided to stretch it out into more than one part! i really hope you guys enjoy.

“You understand what I’m telling you, Sweetmeat?” He says, tapping the underside of your chin with the flat of his blade. His bright blue eyes seem to dance with amusement. “I’m telling you to run.” You jump, gasping as he turns the sword with a flick of his wrist, bringing it down in one smooth motion to cut the thick length of rope between your outstretched hands. It falls to the dry grass between your feet, and he straightens back up in the saddle. The massive Clydesdale paws impatiently at the dirt as he laughs again.

“Run.” 

You do, with the orc-pack’s laughter burning in your ears. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you sprint. You gather your dusty skirts up around your knees as you make for the tree line. The sound of a horn spurs you onward. 

“The river, Sweetmeat!” His voice carries to you from across the hill. “You’ve only to make it to the river!”

Dry branches tear at your face and clothes as you force your way into the brush. The fear disorients you, but only for a moment. They will run you down if you take the path, sure as daylight. Instead, you make the choice to stick to the trees, moving between them as quietly as you can. You’d seen what the blue-eyed-orc had done to the others—one by one offering them the same choices— 

Run and die. Run or die—

No one got to live.  

It made a sick sort of sense, you supposed, if you used Orc-logic. They were weak—unworthy of the water it would take to sustain them, of the burden it would take for a rider to bear them. You had watched as first the baker’s boy, then the cobbler, and then the smithy each followed the blue-eyed-orc’s instruction, stumbling down the mountain path and disappearing into the trees—only to be brought back at dusk, their remains thrown to the wargs.

Your father had been good for little else but finding his next ale, but he’d paid his guild taxes same as everyone. And a fat lot of good it did him. The few soldiers stationed at the outpost nearest your village had been felled laughably easily, almost as easily as your father. And now he was gone, and you were here, a day’s ride south of the charred remains of your village.

The horn blows behind you a second time, and you swallow your terrified sob. No—you mustn’t panic. It is fear and panic that will get you caught. Your mother’s voice rings in your ears. Find green, she whispers as you crawl through the trees. Find green.

And you will find water.

The trees aren’t dead, not really, not at the roots. There’s thick brown moss growing at the roots, between the sparse patches of dry grass. You fall to your knees, ripping at it. The top layer is dry and brown, flaking away easily under your fingernails. But underneath—

Green. 

The sound of hoofbeats approaching on the nearby path quickens your step. North—the river is north. You gather what is left of your torn skirts in your hands, trying to stay low and quiet. You have seen the thick-shafted arrows strapped to the backs of the broad-shouldered orc warriors, and you’ve no desire to feel them bury themselves in your back. 

“Fan out!”

Half-blind you push forward, your own ragged breath deafening in your ears. You’re not going to make it—there is no river, there never was, there’s nothing for you to find out here, nothing—

And then you see it. 

The river is drawn back from the bank, a shrunken skeleton of itself—but it is here. From the width of the bank and the depth of the riverbed, you can tell it was once a mighty thing, now tamed by the unending drought. The red clay is dry and crumbling beneath your bare feet as you stumble toward the water. It is cool on your feet as you splash into it, your feet sinking into the mud. 

There is a sound like a whistle, like a switch splitting the air before it parts skin, and an arrow sinks into the wet clay by your feet. 

“Don’t stop now, Sweetmeat. You’re so close.” The voice is taunting, and hatefully familiar. Slowly you turn, and the blue-eyed-orc is there on the bank. His bow drawn, another arrow already nocked.  You stare at one another, your heart pounding in your chest. You wait for him to draw back the bow, to loose the arrow—he doesn’t. After a moment, he lowers it. 

“Brave little thing, aren’t you?” He asks, cocking his head. “You’re not going to run?” 

“No.” You don’t want to die like your father—cowering, with an axe between his shoulder blades that he never saw coming. “I would see my death.” The blue-eyed-orc grins, one sharp fang hanging over his lip. 

“Oh?” To surprise, he stores the arrow back in its quiver, and takes a step closer. “You’ve no weapon to meet it.” 

“It will come whether I’ve steel or none.” You match his step, taking one further back into the river. The muddy water laps at your calves, soaking into your dress. Over the sound of rushing water and the thunder of your own heartbeat, you hear the horses. The riders approach lazily, slowly, like they know you’re cornered. 

You are. 

The pack doesn’t interfere; don’t come any closer than twenty or thirty paces from the riverbank, content to watch as the blue-eyed one circles you like a wolf. 

“Not going to beg, either, I imagine.” He says, and trembling, you shake your head. You’re up to your knees in water now, your skirts soaked and dragging in the current. You are expecting him to unsheathe the massive, hooked axe on his back, to bring your death down upon you swiftly—but he does not even reach for it. Instead, he reaches for your face, cupping your chin in his huge hand. 

“What are you called?” When you answer, he rolls your name around in his mouth like mead. He turns your head this way and that, like someone inspecting an animal for sale. You know he must feel it, the race of your pulse under his fingertips. After a moment, he pulls back, directing his sharp gaze over his shoulder. 

“Bring a horse for her, Buck.” He says, licking his lips. You watch as a ripple passes through the pack at the impact of his decision.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask hoarsely, your teeth still clenched tight with fear. He grins at you over his shoulder as he makes for the bank.

“A deal’s a deal, Sweetmeat,” he replies, beckoning you to follow. “You get to live.” 

to be continued

next

[cherienymphe]

Love Bites III (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, suicidal thoughts, vampire!Avengers, mentions of Peter x reader, bloodplay, violence, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, jealous!Steve, modern setting they just wealthy af

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love.

~

Your reflection stared back at you as you gazed into the mirror, feeling so far removed from your body as you brushed your fingers over the faint bite marks on your neck. They were something to be worn with pride, something to be admired—coveted even—but as you stared at them, all you could see was the physical evidence of your imprisonment.

As your lips parted, memories of a sweet-natured and soft-hearted vampire came to mind.

You absentmindedly wondered if you would’ve worn Peter’s mark with pride had you been given the option, and the silent question seemed almost silly because the answer was obvious. You would’ve happily let Peter leave whatever mark he wanted on you, because that would’ve been different. It would’ve been a mark you consented to, a mark that came from you willingly giving yourself to the dark-haired vampire. That kind of mark would’ve been the result of you surrendering yourself to him with perfect trust, and he in turn choosing to handle your trust and vulnerability with care.

It would’ve been a mark of love.

Such a thought almost brought tears to your eyes, but you pushed them back, refusing to let Steve smell them and come running. The thought of the blond angered you in a way that was hard to even describe. Since that night he’d raped you again, unable to stomach your refusal of him any longer, you hadn’t so much as given him a hint of anything less than a cold disposition.

Yes, you smiled at him when it was important, and you responded when he asked you things, but it was never with anything more than a tight and forced curve of your lips. Your tone never went beyond anything that could be deemed a polite neutrality. Even when he drank from you, you closed your eyes and held yourself as still as you could be.

A mere tolerance of Steve and your situation had turned into nothing short of repulsion.

It really hadn’t occurred to you just how much you hated all of this until Peter was no longer around to make it easier to swallow. You didn’t have a single friend in this place, every person in your vicinity loyal to Steve above all. It was lonely and depressing in ways that were too painful to think about, and with the knowledge that you were so close to one more year around the sun, you found yourself wondering if you had the strength to do this until the end of your days.

You had never considered ending it all until Peter was gone.

With him around, you’d at least still had something to look forward to, something to put a smile on your face when you woke up in the morning. Now…you had nothing. Your days consisted of nothing but Steve and his every whim, and when you stopped to think about living out the rest of your life exactly like this, it overwhelmed you.

“Steve is starting to get impatient, Y/N.”

The sound of Nat’s voice accompanied by a knock on your bathroom door was enough to pull you from your depressing thoughts. With a sigh, you straightened your dress and swiftly joined her in your bedroom. She was focused on fixing her lipstick when your gaze met hers, and she closed her compact with a comforting smile.

“I was starting to think you’d taken a swim in there,” she teased, gently pulling you along. “You know how Steve gets when you keep him waiting.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, swallowing down what you were initially going to say.

“I’m sorry,” you evenly apologized, knowing that Steve could hear. “I just got lost in my head for a bit.”

You could feel the redhead’s eyes on you as she guided you towards the hall, and she let out a hum.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she mused. “Should I talk to Steve about having someone come and see you? You know how important it is that you’re healthy.”

You both knew that she wasn’t just referencing your physical health, and such a comment almost made you laugh. If any of them had genuinely cared about your mental health and happiness, then someone would’ve talked Steve out of turning Peter to ash. The bitterness was hard to swallow, but you managed, turning to look at her with a small smile.

“No, it’s nothing more than birthday musings.”

At the mention of the date just around the corner, her beautiful face lit up.

“Are you excited? One year older…”

While the powerful beings around you celebrated their own birthdays, it wasn’t the same nor nearly as exciting as physically aging and literally being one year closer to death. At least, that was what Peter had told you once. He’d made it known just how fascinated they all were by the subtle signs of aging, the smile lines that weren’t there before, the maturity in the face that wasn’t there before. Something about the fragility and tragedy of it all, he’d said.

How funny that he had met his end before you.

“As excited as I was last year,” you told her as she walked you down the hall.

That wasn’t entirely true. You were much more excited last year for reasons that were obvious to you, and this year, you couldn’t muster up anything beyond a dreaded anxiousness. There was nothing to be excited about in your opinion, but to make matters worse, you would swear that Nat seemed more excited this year than she was last year.

There was a twinkle in her eye whenever the topic came up, and whatever they had up their sleeve, you only wanted them to get it over with.

It was a cloudy and starless night when you both made it outside, Steve standing by the car with a slightly pinched look on his face. You said nothing as Natasha apologized to him for the delay, quickly joining Bucky before they both disappeared into the other car. You ignored the feel of his intense gaze as the driver opened the door for you both, Steve’s touch almost nonexistent as he guided you into the back seat.

This was the first time you would ever be leaving the grounds, and instead of feeling something akin to excitement, you only felt…numb. Something about a gathering every hundred years or so, and how lucky for you that the next one coincided with your time as Steve’s pet. It was another mansion full of more vampires who’d see you nothing more than Steve’s property.

There was nothing in you that looked forward to this night.

“We’re almost late because of you.”

Steve’s voice filled the car, the partition providing some privacy.

“I’m sorry,” you halfheartedly murmured. “I lost track of time.”

You could feel his eyes on you as you looked out of the tinted window, and your silent prayers that he’d leave you be for the duration of the ride went unanswered. Your heart sank when you felt his hand reach for yours, cold hand clasping with yours.

“Natasha has impeccable taste per usual. I hate when the dresses she picks out are better than anything I come up with,” he told you.

At that, your eyes fell to the black fabric, the sheer extravagance of it all, fingering the bow around your waist. Natasha enjoyed playing dress up with her human doll while Steve had a habit of wanting you to look like the piece of meat you were. It had sparked many an argument between them with the redhead always walking away a winner.

“I’d die before letting her know that though,” he hummed, tone mirthful, and with a deep breath, you threw him a polite smile.

It wasn’t lost on Steve, and so you shouldn’t have been surprised to hear him heave a sigh, letting you go.

“I understand that the technical age difference between us is monumental, but you are still an adult. This…habit of refusing to act like it as of late is getting old. Don’t you think…?”

You fought with yourself on whether or not to engage in this back and forth with him or not.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Steve,” you breathed, gaze still on the passing trees outside.

You sharply inhaled when your breathing was suddenly obstructed, Steve’s hand around your throat and only growing tighter by the second. Losing your cool for a moment, you reached up, grasping his arm and looking at him through wide eyes. His own baby blues were unreadable, pink lips pressed together as he studied you.

“You’re behaving like a child.”

“I haven’t-.”

“Do you think just because you’re not cursing my name that the whole coven can’t see you’re angry with me?”

Steve’s lips brushed your cheek as he leaned in, and when he loosened his hold ever so slightly, you knew that he actually wanted an answer.

“I’m not,” you forced out.

Steve hummed, tightening his hand a bit.

“You are…but that’s okay,” he quietly said, pulling away. “Let’s just get through tonight.”

He fixed the top of your dress as well as the choker around your throat.

“You will not embarrass me,” he continued, and you stared ahead as he stroked your cheek. “For your sake…because you know how much I hate it when you force my hand.”

You blinked, ignoring the sting behind your eyes as Steve leaned back in his seat, heaving a heavy sigh.

“She is quite the pretty thing, isn’t she?”

The smile on your face was tight, fingers around your drink tighter as the strange woman reached out to touch your chin. Nakia, if you remembered correctly. She was just as breathtaking as the rest, her dark eyes drinking you in as she talked to the woman next to her.

“I’d heard years ago that Steve had taken a new pet. I’m so glad you’re still alive so that I could meet you,” the other woman said, her dark hair contrasting with her fair skin. “He has such a temper, that one. Hardly a tolerance for anything.”

They chuckled amongst themselves, and you forced yourself to swallow down your disgust and disturbance at how casually they spoke of the death of innocent people before your time. Yes, you’d heard the odd comment here and there over the years of how you weren’t the first of Steve’s trinkets.

You were just the first to last this long.

Your oh so gracious owner was off mingling with the host of this soiree, a burly blond man with the deepest voice you’d ever heard. You recalled the way his multicolored eyes had appreciatively taken you in, nodding to himself and Steve as if he was congratulating the other man on a job well done. You really hated that it took Peter’s death to fully realize just how much you really detested all of this.

You felt like you were in hell.

…and the devil himself was fast approaching.

The women with you quieted at Steve’s advance, quietly slipping away after acknowledging him. You, however, were focused on the woman at his side. You’d only seen her once, and that was earlier in the night when you’d been introduced to her husband, Thor. They made an attractive couple, positive that the brunette’s natural beauty had only been enhanced after her transition.

“Y/N, you remember Jane.”

Steve hadn’t been happy with you most of the evening, and the slight warning in his blue gaze had your tight smile softening some.

“Of course, it’s lovely to meet you again,” you told her.

“You as well. I mentioned to Steve here that you must be so lonely with so few of your kind around, and he suggested we get to know one another better. He thought it might be good for you,” she gently replied.

She seemed kind enough, kinder than most you’d been around, but there was something in her smile that seemed…off. She and Steve shared one last look as he left you, and the woman with the kind eyes looped her arm with yours.

“Every century the neighboring covens get together to discuss their discretion and orders of succession and all that,” she eventually started as you both slowly made your way outside.

Where Steve’s estate was dark and imposing and stereotypical in every way, Thor’s mansion was much brighter and welcoming. There was a Norse quality about the architecture, and something in you—when combined with the origin of Thor’s name—wondered just how old the blond was. Jane paused in front of a happy statue, gazing up at it with a small smile.

“This is my first time too, and I don’t doubt that you find it as boring as I do,” she confessed, shocking you.

You frowned at her a bit, having not realized just how young she was in their years, and you blinked. Even Peter had been over a hundred, and you silently wondered when she’d been turned. You didn’t dare ask, both because it wasn’t your business and also because a good chunk of you couldn’t care less. However, your interest was piqued when she answered your silent question.

“I’ve been like this for maybe…seven years now?”

Your eyes widened at that, meeting her honey brown gaze.

“I think you’re the youngest I’ve ever met,” you told her, voicing your thoughts.

Her kindness and softness suddenly made a lot more sense. There was still so much humanity left in her, her human life still fresh in her spirit, her short years as a vampire unsuccessful in desensitizing her and leaving her void of empathy. So far, anyway. She tilted her head from side to side, seemingly mulling it over with a hum.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I’m definitely the youngest I know of…as of yet.”

She looked back to the statue at that, and something about that last comment made your chest ache. Only you didn’t know why.

“Thor made me,” she breathed, sounding happy about the fact. “He decided that he didn’t want to be without me, and I’d felt the same for some time at that point.”

The details that she was leaving out had your mind whirling, and she soon put you out of your misery.

“There was a time where I belonged to him just as you belong to Steve.”

She finally looked at you again as she told you this, and you were unable to hide your shock, lips parting.

“…what?”

It wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely wasn’t common either. Humans were pets, and pets were property, but let Natasha tell it, there had been the odd case of a human pet becoming a lover and eventually…a consort. An eternal companion.

“I see,” you eventually added, getting a hold of yourself. “Well…I suppose I’m happy for you.”

The way she studied you made you uncomfortable, and you found yourself playing with your hands.

“Thor was kind to me, always had been, and he treated me like nothing less than a princess.”

You didn’t really have a response to that. After all, how kind—how well could he really treat her—if he had been keeping her prisoner to feed off of for years? Jane certainly seemed happy enough, but you kept your thoughts to yourself on how you saw her situation as nothing more than a glorified victim. She’d fallen for her captor, not unheard of, and no less tragic just because she was like him, now.

“Steve is quite taken with you.”

That came out of nowhere to you, and you looked at her again. Again, there was something in her small smile that unnerved you, a glint in her eye that made your stomach twist. For the strangest reason, you felt like there was something you were missing, and you didn’t like it.

“After all, the rumor is he’s never kept a human this long before. I hear he doesn’t tolerate much,” she continued.

“That’s not untrue. I dare say I have another…one…maybe two years before he’s finally fed up with me,” you lightly teased although there was a hint of seriousness in your tone.

Deep down, you hoped that it was less.

Jane laughed, and your eyes met hers as she reached out to adjust your necklace.

“Silly girl,” she gently admonished. “I can’t foresee Steve ever being rid of you. He’s much too obsessed with you for that. Watches you like a hawk, that one does.”

You swallowed uncomfortably, stepping out of her reach a tad and watching as her hand fell.

“Well, he’ll have no choice someday. I am human, after all.”

Jane tilted her head, shoulder length brown hair kissing her skin as she studied you. There was a slight frown on her face as she dragged her gaze over you.

“For now.”

Those two simple words had your heart stuttering, and your face fell as you gave her your undivided attention.

“There’s quite an easy fix to ensure you’re at his side forever,” she reminded you, and it was then…

That you understood.

You took another step back from her, almost stumbling in your heels, and you couldn’t fix your mouth to form the words that your mind wanted to say. This entire conversation was stirring up thoughts you didn’t even want to entertain, didn’t even want to consider, because the thought was preposterous. Horrifying even, but why else?

Why else would Steve think it’d be good for the two of you to talk? Of all the new vampires in the world, why the one whose former master had made her like him so that she could be with him forever? Why her? You tried to push it down, but it assaulted your mind anyway, and you dazedly shook your head at her, apologizing before excusing yourself.

There was blood rushing in your ears, and you pressed your hand to your chest as you stumbled back inside, fighting to calm your heart for multiple reasons.

No.

Absolutely not.

You didn’t even want to think it, but it couldn’t be helped. Steve wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t, but as you repeated that to yourself, you wondered how true that was. Wasn’t it months ago that he’d killed the love of your life out of jealousy and some misguided belief that he loved you? Hadn’t he killed a vampire he’d known and had been intimate with for centuries for the same reasons?

Tears kissed your eyes as you stared at the floor, feeling just as cold as Steve did to the touch.

There had been a time when the prospect of eternal life called to you, back when the man you loved was till around. You’d only wanted to live forever if it were with him, and once he was out of the picture, all thoughts of that had ceased. You had never entertained the thought of becoming a vampire anyway, and especially not with Steve. Why would you?

You leaned against the wall, a few tears spilling over as you fought with yourself, telling yourself that you were just getting a head of yourself, that’s all. Jane’s own thoughts in regard to your mortality didn’t mean they were Steve’s. Maybe it was all in your head, a mere coincidence, but the refusal to believe otherwise didn’t prevent your legs from faltering, hand sliding along the wall as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

“Steve, she’ll be fine. Listen… She’s waking up, see?”

Sam’s voice seemed so loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you grimaced as your senses came back to you, greeted with none other than a headache. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, but pretending to be asleep in a room full of vampires had never and would never work. With reluctance, you peeled them open, staring up at a familiar ceiling.

You heard a deep exhale, and it wasn’t long before you were joined on the bed, a hand on your forehead.

You didn’t need to look over to know that it was Steve.

“…and you’re sure she’s alright?”

“No concussion or anything of the sort. Nothing to be concerned with either. It appears she just fainted, perhaps lightheaded or hungry.”

Dr. Banner’s voice was surprising to hear. It had been some time since you’d seen the dark-haired vampire, and you slowly looked over as he wrote something down on a clipboard. Sam was standing behind him while Natasha and Bucky sat on your couch, the redhead the picture of concern while her husband appeared as if he couldn’t care less.

“So, she’s been neglecting herself.”

Your heart dropped at the drop in Steve’s tone, and you hesitantly glanced up, finally looking at the blond and unsurprised to find his gaze already on you. He didn’t look happy, and you looked away, mentally preparing yourself for an earful.

“I wouldn’t say that. Humans are fragile, Steve, you know this. Any number of things could’ve caused her to feel faint, and seeing as no one was around to witness the moments prior, who is to say what really caused it. All that matters is she is healthy,” Dr. Banner argued.

You crossed your arms over your chest as they finished discussing you, and when Steve dismissed the other three after Dr. Banner’s departure, you sighed.

“Had you eaten?”

“Yes, Steve, I ate,” you assured him. “I just got lightheaded is all.”

You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he wouldn’t be looking away anytime soon, so you finally lifted your gaze again.

“I found you,” he confessed, jaw taut, and you almost wished he hadn’t.

There was no telling the thoughts in his head when he saw you lying there.

“I heard your heart beat faster than it ever had before…and then it slowed so suddenly I thought you were dead.”

“Well…I’m not, so…”

“You scared me.”

“Why?” you harshly asked, gaze accusatory as you narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m easily replaceable. If I die…I’m sure you can find another woman to kidnap.”

The blond harshly looked away at that, and you eyed him as he rested a hand on his hip.

“You say that so callously…like it wouldn’t hurt me to bury you,” he murmured, and your frown deepened.

“It shouldn’t. Who am I to you other than a warm body and a nightly cocktail?”

You jumped when he swiped a figurine off of your table. It had been a gift from him years ago, and you swallowed when his cold eyes met yours. Right. Let Steve tell it, he loved you, and that same thought that’d made you faint hours earlier threatened to overtake you again. You dismissively looked away from him, and considering how many times it had been pointed out to you tonight, you wondered what line you’d eventually cross that would push Steve to just…drain you dry.

“I’ve told you before Steve…you don’t know what love is,” you quietly said, staring at your sheets. “…and while I don’t doubt the worry you felt when you found me tonight, I do doubt that it had anything to do with love.”

You desperately wanted to ask him why he’d been so keen on you talking to Jane tonight. You wanted to ask him if he’d ever entertained the thought of turning you for himself, keeping you at his side forever and dragging out what should’ve been one miserable lifetime into infinite. You wanted to…but you were so terrified of the answer.

You were confident that Steve wouldn’t, but there was some small part of you that said otherwise, and the more you laid there, the bigger that part of you became. The voice became louder, whispering the unthinkable, and you turned over, quietly and politely asking Steve to leave you be. You were sure he wouldn’t drink from you tonight, but you wanted him gone, nonetheless.

…because if there was truth to your newfound fears…

You would slit your throat in a heartbeat.

Steve listened to you, albeit reluctantly, but not without nearing your bed and resting his hand on your forehead again. He stood there for some time, just standing over you and watching you, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he brushed his thumb over your skin. Your eyes burned when he leaned down, pressing his lips into your hair and deeply inhaling. It was too reminiscent of something he wasn’t, too much like a lover, and you only relaxed again when he was gone.

The morning of your birthday was greeted with the finest of foods and finest of gifts. No different than the years before, but all the more depressing. Last year, you’d eaten your breakfast with the excitement of seeing Peter afterwards. You had smiled at Natasha as she ran you a milk bath, playing with the rose petals because you knew that you’d be spending most of your day with Peter. His presence had made the grand fanfare of your party something meaningful instead of the conceited and egotistic brag of Steve that it actually was.

Today, however…

Today you had nothing and no one to look forward to.

You were polite as you opened gift after gift, thanking Natasha for the dress or Sam for the bracelet or Bucky for the wine. The last one was done with a barely hidden sneer. After all, the wine was more so a gift for Steve than for you, the saccharine drink given with the purpose of making your blood taste sweeter.

Nothing about this day was actually for you.

Every gift and every praise were done to exalt Steve.

You had to look your best at your party tonight because anything less, and you’d embarrass Steve. Everyone had to ooh at the pretty jewelry Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to aah at the gorgeous dress Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to see how lavishly he spoiled you, how well he looked after you, how wonderful a master he was.

It made you sick.

“It might get old after some time, but it really is so exciting to celebrate an actual birthday,” Natasha told you as she dragged the small brush over your lips. “It’s so miniscule or even non existent with human eyes, I’m sure, but you do look a whole year older.”

“I feel ten years older,” you half joked.

She chuckled at the comment, either unaware or completely ignoring the implication that you felt so aged after Peter’s death.

“A mortal life is really so fleeting. A blink of an eye to us,” she mused with a small frown. “I swear, it was just yesterday that you were first brought here.”

The redhead paused, looking down at you with a wistful gaze.

“So young…so terrified…”

She hummed, continuing with her work.

You tried not to think of those first few months you were here. They were too painful, to be honest. After all, what was there to look back on but the loss of your best friend by the very same man you were forced to be around all the time? The years gone by had done nothing to lessen the anger and hurt every time you looked at Bucky.

An average day to him was one of the worst of your life.

When Natasha felt satisfied enough with you, she smiled, brushing her hand along your cheek.

“You look so radiant…like a birthday girl,” she praised. “Steve will be pleased.”

Your face fell some at that, reminded that once again, a compliment for you was never actually for you.

Like last year, the manor was full of vampires with the occasional human pet tagging along. Unlike last year though, there were way more people in attendance. You even caught sight of Thor and Jane, and you thought it was ironically fitting that the one year full of more extravagance and fanfare than the others was the one year you just wanted to drop dead.

Natasha was right, of course.

Steve was more than pleased with your look for the night, and he gave her a thankful nod as he took your hand. His own was gentle in yours, and you pointedly ignored the way he brushed his thumb over the back of it. Steve looked as impeccable as he always did, and your gaze passed over him as you looked around the room.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

You took a deep breath before looking at him with the perfect smile.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He stared into your eyes for a few moments before his own smile grew, satisfaction crossing his features at your dedication to be on your best behavior. When his small smile shifted into a small smirk, you were tempted to be defiant just for the hell of it.

He brought your hand to his lips as he walked through the room, leading you to the head table.

You spent so much of the night repeating empty thanks to faces both familiar and those not. You were positive not a single compliment was genuine, every one accompanied with another compliment to Steve. She looks as radiant as always. You take such good care of her. She’s the perfect reflection of you. It was dehumanizing in a way you couldn’t even articulate, and you thought that you’d be used to it after years, but again…

With Peter not around to soften the blow…

When you danced with Steve, you didn’t look at him. You kept your gaze on the guests around you, giving the impression of a thankful birthday girl when in actuality, you couldn’t really stomach the sight of Steve. An entire day that should’ve been dedicated to you being dedicated to him in a roundabout way instead was too disheartening.

“You look better,” he whispered in your ear. “You heart sounds strong too.”

You swallowed a sigh, your smile falling some.

“If I didn’t…would that stop you from coming to me tonight and doing what you’ve wanted to do for days?”

“Didn’t it stop me already?”

You didn’t respond to that, only sending Natasha a forced smile when you caught her eye. Steve’s hands fell to your waist, and he lifted you a tad as he spun you, sharp teeth winking at you as he grinned.

“It’s your birthday, my love…” your heart dropped at that. “Smile and be happy.”

You were still looking at him strangely when he led you back to the table, wondering where on earth such a term of endearment had come from. You pushed it away when he left you there, Natasha immediately pulling you into conversation. It was hard to focus, the feel of Steve’s hand in yours and the sound of his voice in your ear on your mind.

My love?

You wondered if centuries on this earth could drive a vampire mad. Nothing about what you and Steve had was loving, and it seemed that no matter how many times you pointed that out to him, he only became more deluded. It was like trying to get through a brick wall, and when the time came for Steve to give you his gift, you only wanted this night to be over.

“Y/N has been a part of this coven for years, now,” Steve said, standing beside you as you sat. “Something both surprising to others and myself…but I’ve come to find great comfort at the sight of her face every day.”

You looked up at him in wonder, thinking to yourself that his birthday speech from last year was far less intimate and more appreciative of the blood you unwillingly provided him a few times a week. You watched as he opened the jewelry box you’d seen him fiddle with all evening. The light glinted off of the necklace.

The diamonds were plentiful, but what caught your eye—and what was probably meant to—was the green stone at the center of it. Everything Steve had ever given you was excessive in some way, but this was different. It didn’t look like something passed down through the generations or some nice ring to compliment your fingers.

This was a necklace bought with intention.

You felt uneasy as Steve guided you to stand, fingers lingering on yours a bit before moving behind you. You looked everywhere and nowhere all at once, afraid to catch anyone’s eye. You were used to the attention, especially on this day, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest from growing. The necklace was cool against your skin, and you shuddered as it pressed into your throat with the tightening of Steve’s hand.

You swallowed, tempted to reach up when he finally loosened his hold, hooking it closed and adjusting it to his liking.

“You deserve nothing but the best on your birthday, but this necklace is fit for a queen,” Steve said, speaking to you now. “A mistress of the house.”

You slowly turned to look at him at that, face falling. Steve reached out, touching your face, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. Your eyes burned at the meaning behind his words, telling yourself that it wasn’t what you thought.

“I’ve ruled this coven by myself for centuries…”

“Steve…”

“…and you’ve only been by my side for a few short years of that, but I intend to rule centuries more…with you right next to me.”

Your hands shook, and you realized that the loud noise in your ears wasn’t the rush of your blood or even your loud heartbeat, but instead the awed excitement of all the vampires before you. Steve took your hand, pulling you closer, and in your confusion, you stumbled towards him.

“As my wife…my eternal lover…my consort.”

~

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[whereireid]

˚ · . 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!steve rogers x fem!reader | masterlist

SUMMARY: Is it hard being married to the most influential man in America? You most certainly think it is. — Steve Rogers: Captain America, the heart of his nation, the soul of his country. After returning home from a particularly bad day at work, Steve finally snaps, deciding you need re-educating on how to be the perfect housewife.

warnings: dubious consent ! (reader does consent but it can be interpreted otherwise) fingering, oral [m recieving] manhandling, — arguments, swearing, verbal insults, toxic ideas of marriage [nuclear family, gender roles] mentions of post-partum depression.

Some may say a clean home creates a clean mind. Others say, happy wife, happy life. Steve Rogers strives for both of these things.

Because in Steve Rogers' line of work, it's tiresome to return home to a messy house, a dissatisfied wife, and a crying baby. Exhausting is actually probably a better term. Constantly picking up dirty laundry which should've been thrown in the washing machine days beforehand, not managing to eat dinner because there is no dinner prepared for him, having to listen to a screeching baby which pierces his ears and makes his head throb.

It is hard. Steve Rogers has enough to deal with at work, what with saving the world and actually representing the entire nation of America as a whole. And you? His cute little suburban housewife, who he slaves around for at his job just so he can shroud you in bliss and heaven? You just don't seem to get that. You cry and wail over your position as a mother, saying that it’s too much to handle and that the workload is too much.

The fucking workload. By which, you mean doing the dishes and the laundry and occasionally cooking dinner. Meanwhile, Steve will come home from work, after fighting off actual terrorists and criminals, sometimes even aliens, to a home that is so messy it looks like it’s just been broken into. And he’ll try to be rational - argue that it is hard for you because you’re dealing with your son, and that you’re a first-time mom, and that James has inherited his dad’s serum which has made the four-month-old a stupidly advanced little shit. And Steve does admit this - your son is very good at pushing buttons and misbehaving and throwing tantrums, but that’s what kids do. You knew this. But still, he'll try to be rational - because you're perfect in every other way and it must be so hard to manage this, but then also...

...It shouldn’t be that hard to stay on top of things. And then, when Steve will come home and try to rest - when he drops on the sofa tiredly, unable to hold back the temptation to succumb to hours of missed sleep, you’ll call over to him: “Stevie, can you put food in the oven? I forgot," with no apology! - Hell, no genuine sincerity either! Yet, like the good husband he is, he'll do it - no questions asked, and then you'll follow up with, "oh, and stick the washing machine on, please! And maybe the dishwasher too, whilst you’re at it?”

...It shouldn’t be that hard to stay on top of things. And then, when Steve will come home and try to rest - when he drops on the sofa tiredly, unable to hold back the temptation to succumb to hours of missed sleep, you’ll call over to him: “Stevie, can you put food in the oven? I forgot," with no apology! - Hell, no genuine sincerity either! Yet, like the good husband he is, he'll do it - no questions asked, and then you'll follow up with, "oh, and stick the washing machine on, please! And maybe the dishwasher too, whilst you’re at it?”

He'll do all of it. He won't even say a word. Won't mutter a complaint. Then you'll both sit in silence as you eat, not even a "oh, how was your day, Steve?" or a kiss on the cheek. Two seperate showers, two separate bedtime routines - the only time the two of you really talk is when you both put James to bed, but then, what? You'll drag yourself to your bedroom, and Steve will put his hands on your bare thighs needily, his cock so hard in his pants it actually hurts, only for to waft him away and say you're tired and need sleep? Only for him to wait until you're breathing softly next to him to go on his phone and look at the photos of you he has saved when you're bare and naked, sultry and ready for him?

God, what has happened to him? Is this what fatherhood is?

Steve can deal with all of this. He thinks you're depressed - he's pretty sure of it, actually. Post-partum depression is what they call it. He's asked you to see a doctor - no, has begged you to, but to no avail. So he sits and watches as you cry and stress, soothing you at every possible opportunity, only to have his head bit off for doing so.

Today has been rough. So rough that Steve’s actually pondered whether coming home would be more beneficial to him than drinking his sorrows away at a bar, despite the unbelievable curse that he can’t get drunk. He decides the former – you might need him, and he's hoping that you're going to put a pip in his step. There's no-one he needs more when he's down than you. And he's sure it will be fine, because a happy wife allows for a happy life!

Right?

Wrong. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out an exasperated sigh as he gazes over his living room. It is a state, and he's wondering how it looks exactly like an actual bomb has gone off. No. It looks worse - there’s shit everywhere. Toys and baby clothes and an open pack of clean diapers lay scattered around the living room floor, and he’s almost certain there’s apple sauce on the white rug that he spent $5,000 fucking dollars on.

“Sweetheart, what is this?” It genuinely feels like Steve’s heart is about to be pulled out of his chest. Like someone’s actually ripping their hands into him and scratching away at his heart like a deranged psychopath. Is disappointed even the word? Is angry better? “What the hell is on this rug?”

When you appear from the kitchen, running out wildly, hand movements frantic in concern, Steve genuinely winces. You look a mess - exhausted, worrisome, and on the brink of collapse. When Steve always pictured coming home to you as his housewife, he’ll be honest, he never imagined this. “On the rug?” You wheeze, cursing softly as you graze a wet rag over the applesauce stain. “I have no idea. It isn’t - shit - it isn’t coming off.”

“It looks like applesauce. It - it doesn't matter,” Steve reassures, wrapping his hands around your shoulders. When you ignore him, rubbing harder at the stain, he repeats, “doll. It doesn’t matter. I’ll just - I’ll go and buy a new one.”

“No, Steve. We can’t afford a new one right now. I have to get this out.”

“What do you mean, we can’t afford one right now? Of course we can - just - Jesus, doll, stop it!”

The sudden reminder that Steve is much, much stronger than you suffocates you in a wave when he lifts you up by the underneath of your arms. You wail pathetically, defeatedly, dropping the damp rag on the rug, admitting that attempting to salvage it is a lost cause.

Silence prods at the air. When Steve finally lets go of you, he puts his hands on his hips and sniffs slightly. How the hell has he let this happen?

“Is dinner almost ready?” his voice sounds hoarse as he speaks, and he genuinely feels like he could cry when you answer,

“No.”

“Right. Okay.” A shaky breath slips past Steve’s lips, and his shaking hands find their way into your hair. He rubs your scalp softly, caringly, as one does to their partner if they’ve had a bad day - though he’s almost certain that his had been worse. “Is dinner even prepped, doll?”

When you shake your head in response, Steve shuts his eyes. He shuts them so hard he sees stars and he tries to wash away the frustration that threatens to bubble over like a tsunami wave. It’s impossible to hold back the annoyed sigh that slips past his lips, though - it’s so dramatically loud that your head snaps up, the corner of your eyes pricking with fresh tears.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs your concern away, peppering a gentle kiss on your head, hoping that you won't press on.

Of course, though, you do.

“What, Steve?”

“I haven’t said anything, doll.” He shakes shoulders slightly, trying to brush away the anger which flickers throughout his body.

Steve hates this. Despises how you gaze up at him with such ferocity - such anger, like he’s actually done something wrong. Your brows furrow together sharply, and you mutter, “you didn’t have to. Something is clearly bothering you.”

“Okay." Steve nods carefully, not wanting to overstep, not wanting to make you more frustrated than you are. "You’re right. Something... Something is bothering me.”

You huff from beneath him. Your cheeks flush a shade darker in frustration, and he can hear how your little heartbeat begins to quicken in your chest. You have the audacity to be frustrated right now? After this is what he comes home to?

Of course, you do. Because you've had a hard day. But his has definitely been fucking worse.

And his patience is running indefinitely thin.

“Yeah, and what is bothering you, Steve? Because I can’t do anything about it if you’re always going to go fucking radio-silent on me.”

Steve’s jaw twitches. He hates it when dames swear. Especially when that dame is you. “I’ve had a bad day at work, sweetheart. I really think it’s best we don’t do this today,” he warns sweetly, his hands coming to grip your shoulders reassuringly. You shrug off his touch, and Steve glares at you intensely. “Give it a rest, doll, please.”

“Me, give it a rest? You’re the one huffing and puffing like you’re the big bad wolf all of a sudden. Like you’ve had such a terrible day sitting around filling out paperwork whilst I’ve had to deal with your son-“

“Our son,” he corrects quickly, jaw clenched as he reaches out to grip your cheeks. “I really hope you’re not going to keep rambling on. It’s not going to go well for you if you do.”

Steve thinks his warning is enough for you to back down. You’ve defied him in the past. You’ve had a fiery attitude that has almost burnt ablaze before, and Steve blew it out as though it were a candlelight. You know what he’s capable of when he’s angry - know when you’re pushing his buttons too much.

"There's no point. If I do, you won't listen to me anyway."

"I do listen."

"You don't." Your voice strains slightly as you cross your arms over your chest, looking up at your husband, blissfully unaware of just how quickly he's tiring of this conversation. "If you listened you'd be here a little bit more rather than at work all of the time."

"I can't exactly take a vacation from saving the world, doll. Just - let's just drop this, okay? I don't want to get into this anymore. You're not going to like where this goes."

"Of course, you don't want to get into it! You never do."

Your little hands waft at Steve's chest, flapping at him softly. And he tries to keep his cool as you rant - he really does, but he is so tired and he's had just such an awful day that he can't help it. When did you both discuss the boundaries of your relationship, again? Four years ago now, Steve's sure of it. And he hasn't had to be harsh with you in years - hasn't really had the heart to be mean to you at all, in fact...

... but when you're acting like this, he thinks he needs to blow out that annoying, fiery spark you're blazing.

"Jesus fucking Christ, doll, you really don't know how to shut the hell up, do you? You think Bucky or Sam would let you run your mouth like this?" Steve seethes suddenly, his body pressing against yours. It happens in one quick motion - first of all you're standing below him, pressing your finger into his chest and complaining about his working hours, and the next you're thrown over his lap, thrashing around like a bird, trying to slip out of his touch.

It just so happens that Steve is so, so much stronger than you. And he hasn't been this hard in weeks - God, he hasn't touched you this much in weeks, you've both been so... busy. Perhaps that's why you're acting up - perhaps he just needs to show you your place again as his subordinate and your flame will dull, smothered by his love.

"Get off of me, Steve! Get off!" You wail awkwardly as Steve pushes the band of your sweatpants past your ass. It makes your body flood with warmth as his fingers skim against your panties gently, the touch sending shockwaves throughout your body.

"You've been so wrapped up in this make-shift hell of yours that you've forgotten about the most important thing in your life," Steve says, pinching the inside of your thighs, making you squeak. "Me. Remind me, again, doll - what is a wife's duty?"

You flinch as he brings a hand up to smooth down your hair. It feels like you're a newlywed again and you've just burnt the lasagna after Steve's had an excruciating day training rookies at the Avengers Tower. When was the last time you had been punished?

Gosh, you couldn't even remember. You'd been so good. So obedient - the perfect little housewife, which Steve had molded you into carefully. When was the last time you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek? When was the last time you'd sunk to your knees after he'd had a bad day and served him like a good wife should? You'd grown too comfortable in defying him - grown too oblivious to who he actually is.

He's Captain America. He's your husband. He's the most important man in your life - right next to James.

And you'd been neglecting him.

"What is a wife's duty?" He repeats cooly, his tone like ice. It makes you feel frostbit - warm but numb at the same time.

"To take care of the home."

"And?"

"... to serve her husband?"

Steve sighs, exasperated. He pinches your thigh again, to which you grumble in discontent. "So you do know. You just choose to forget, day in and day out."

Steven Grant Rogers is a nice man. The best man you could've ever asked for. Charming, doting - forever showering you with compliments and extravagant gifts. He has never expected anything of you, except your complete and utter submission to him. Stege has only ever wanted you to be a loving, doting partner to him, to which he vowed to be the same.

"I haven’t… chosen to forget," you try to justify, a broken mewl slipping past your lips as Steve's fingers run up and down your clothed pussy. "It's just - it's been hard, with James, and everything."

“And you think it’s been easy for me? Easy coming home to a messy home and an upset wife?” Steve asks, pushing the band of your panties aside. A soft gasp passes your lips as he pushes one digit into you, and warmth succumbs your body in response. “I’ve only expected one thing from you, sweetheart. I think you need to learn how to please me again.”

You should learn. You need to - need to be re-educated on how to be his perfect wife. Again. Steve’s eyes rake over the living room once again, and he tuts, sliding another finger inside of you. It’s heavenly how your body arches - how your skin pricks with goosebumps as he slowly moves his fingers in a ‘come forth’ motion, as you mewl beneath him - every bit of fight pooling out of you, the light from your fire beginning to flicker out.

“A good wife never neglects her husband." Steve’s voice is cool, and your eyes flutter shut in response. He hasn’t made you feel like this in so long - you’ve practically been celibate, and the feeling of his fingers pressing lovingly on that little spongy spot inside of your pussy makes your knees feel weak. Your stomach grows warm with lust and your pussy slick with arousal when Steve’s other hand grips your ass harshly. “Or have you forgotten that?”

“Never. I’d - ah - I’d never forget that."

"Then why haven't you been taking care of me, doll?" He coos, so sickly-sweet it makes your stomach churn.

God, he takes care of you so good, and here you are neglecting him. Warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach and you begin to feel hot flashes throughout your bodies as he keeps curling his fingers inside of you - the sound of your slick bouncing off of the living room walls.

"I've been trying," you whine pitifully, shuffling as he speeds his fingers up, caressing you just perfectly. Just how you like it.

"Trying, huh?" And just as you're about to cum, he stops. "Trying isn't good enough."

"Steve!"

The blond stares down at you with a painfully unreadable expression. His face is so blank it actually sends shivers throughout you, and he taps the side of your cheek softly. "You know what to do when you've been bad, don't you?"

Steve's voice is an octave lower. Subtle fear pricks at the back of your head as you nuzzle your head in his crotch - embarrassed at the feeling of his bulge pressing against you. He's just as desperate as you for this - maybe more, but he's not going to let you go down without apologising to him first.

In his eyes, you've put him through hell. Unhappy wife, unhappy life.

You remove his cock from his boxers swiftly. You pout at the sight of it - thick angry and red - before licking a soft stripe up his tip. Steve's length is so pretty - complimentary to the man himself. Slick with his own precum, you hum, wondering how you ever went so long without it. But before you could even think, even comprehend how you went without such luxury for so long, Steve's big hand wraps around the back of your head and forces you down onto his cock.

To begin with, you thrash and gag. Steve is huge and he's always taken some time to get well-adjusted to, and your throat is nowhere near wet enough to take him all in... yet, but he doesn't care. Steve's tired of waiting - he's practically huffing as he pushes your head up and down using one of his hands, grunting as your throat tightens around his cock. He wishes you were kneeling in front of him so he could see your teary eyes, and he knows they're teary because you sob like a baby when he uses you like this.

It's hsi right to do that, though. He's your husband, your saviour - quite literally your Prince Charming. He's been so good to you, so patient, and so accepting of your need for time and adjustment, because James is quite literally a whirlwind. But he's also tired - he's Captain America, America's Saviour, and a father to one.

He just needs some relief. He just needs his cock sucked.

So, yeah, no more teasing - no more thrashing, either, Steve decides as he holds your body in place and opts to thrust up into your mouth. And it's a much better choice, gives him easier access, and you gasp against him as he thrusts his hips up into you, a drawly groan climbing from his throat as he does so. Your mouth is so, so, so fucking wet and your lips wrap perfectly around his cock. The only thing that can make this better is if - "oh Jesus Christ," Steve grumbles, - is if you move your tongue in time with his thrusts which you do!

It's like clockwork with Steve. After being with him for almost half a decade you know him so well that you know what he likes. Knows exactly what gets his cock to twitch. Your tongue runs over his veins and his cock begins to throb inside your mouth, his fingers curling in your hair.

"This is how a good wife treats her husband," Steve tells you, his teeth grinding together as he comes undone in your mouth. His cum paints your tongue beautifully, and you swallow the salty mixture eagerly.

As he pulls out of your mouth - making sure to smack his cock against your tongue a few times, he looks around the living room again. All feelings of anger has washed away, his cock is still hard and leaking against your mouth as he goes to reach for his phone, but as he does, you stop him.

"Hey! What about me?"

It's funny. Hilarious, actually, how you think your pretty little pout and teary eyes and high-pitched, whiny voice will entice him to give you a reward. But good girls get rewards, not bad ones - and you haven't really been good, have you?

"What do you mean, 'what about me'? You've had what you deserve."

"What?" His words feel like a smack in the face, and you cling to his plain white shirt pathetically. "You haven't let me cum yet, Steve, that's not fair."

It makes you feel embarrassed when he laughs at you. You shrink into yourself slightly, looking up at him with big doe-eyes. When you don't get it, Steve coos slightly, brushing a curl from your face. "Oh, my pretty little girl, you don't get it, do you?" And when you shake your head, Steve mumbles, "what is your duty as a wife?"

"To - to serve you, which I've done!"

"Yes, you have, doll. Incredibly well. What else?" He places a soft kiss on your head, lovingly, and you lull at the contact.

"To... to clean the home, and make sure it's cared for."

"And is it?" He says plainly. "No, it's - it's a shit-hole, honey, I can't sugar-coat it anymore. Your job as a housewife is to clean it up. Do you really think it's fair for me to get home from work and be forced to do this as well when this is your job? I've done my part."

When you think it over - well, no, it isn't really fair, because Steve works like a dog - slaves away for America and for you to have the life you've always dreamed of, and you've been... excepting him to clean up after your mess.

You feel slightly... shameful.

Steve reaches over to pinch your thigh again. "I promise though, doll, as soon as you're done cleaning this all up, I'll take you however you want to be taken."

You can't help the rush of excitement pool in your lower-belly. Steve swears he's never seen you get up so quick - you don't even bother putting your sweatpants back on, abandoning them completely and rushing around like a complete fool.

He watches you, content.

This is what life is supposed to be like.

[imyourbratzdoll]

hi bestie 🥺👉👈 I saw that your requests are open so… yandere!nomad!Steve falling for someone while on the run, he still wears disguises and stays low profile so it’s easy to follow her around, but he grows tired of the distance and strikes !! me thinks… he has her swooning immediately (after all, he already knows everything about her), and goes full daddy mode during their first time: rough and nasty but sweet, a dash of mean and condescending bc she fell right into his trap 🫶✨

hi, baby! I really hope you like this, and I'm sorry it took so long, I wasn't expecting a literal writing goddess to request something, so I wanted to make it as good as possible!🥺

summary - the moment steve saw you, he knew he needed to have you. so he thought the best way to get to know you... was to stalk you, what happens when he finally makes his move?

warning - stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, semi-public, smut, daddy kink, potential kidnapping.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips and @firefly-graphics

Steve couldn’t stop. For months, he’s been following you wherever you go, watching you. He’s even gone as far as stalking you to your home, sneaking a peek through the windows. His favourite part was when you slept, well, the second favourite. Nothing could beat watching you shower and lathering your nude form with lotions afterwards or the fact you’d take out your pathetic excuse of a toy and shyly play with your pretty little cunt.

A grunt falls from his lips as he tugs on his throbbing member. Steve’s lust-filled eyes focus on your exposed cotton white knickers, balls tightening as the cloth sticks to your folds. The thought of getting caught excites him even more. Steve watches your soft breasts bounce when you stand, and the sight causes him to pick up the pace. 

When Steve feels his end approach, he stops and tucks his hard cock back into his pants. A dark smile forms on his face as he stands at full height. Steve’s grown tired of just watching you. He wants to feel you under him. He wants to make you moan his name instead of those pathetic ones you let out with your small toy.

The burly man takes long strides toward the naive woman. When he gets close enough, your vanilla perfume fills his senses. His cock twitches, and the excitement of finally talking to you, makes him nearly cum. He clears his throat as he stands behind you, needing your attention.

The squeak that leaves your mouth and how you look up at him with those doe-like eyes as you spin around. Nearly make Steve go feral, he offers a charming smile, hoping not to scare you away. Steve holds back a smirk as you relax under his gaze, “sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you look and had to come to introduce myself.” He puts a handout, nearly groaning when you slip your small one onto his. “I’m Steve.” 

“I’m Y–Y/n” He brings her hand to his lips and gently kisses her flesh, enjoying how her cheeks turn a rosy pink. 

“That’s a beautiful name, which doesn’t surprise me as you look like a goddess.” A smooth chuckle leaves his lips, his hand still holding yours as he looks down at you. “Would a gorgeous woman like yourself be willing to let me take her out?” A dark smile appears on Steve’s face when you nod, cheeks turning a darker shade of pink.

“D–Daddy! Too much! Ohhh.” Steve growls, slowly pulling his cock from your tight cunt only to thrust back in roughly. One hand grips your hip while the other pulls the front of your dress down, groaning as your breasts bounce free. Steve leans down and latches onto your nipple, grunting as you pulse around his thick, throbbing member. 

“T–Too much? Is my cock too big for the poor baby?” His large form leans over your tiny body, squashing you further into the bed as his thrusts continue. “Weren’t you just begging me to fuck you, baby? I thought you said you could take me. Were you lying to me, sweetheart?” His cock throbs as you whimper, feeling his cock throb as thick tears roll down your face. You feel so full and split open at the same time your mind begins to go dumb. “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you can answer me. Don’t you want to make daddy happy?”

“I do! I do! I wan’ make daddy happy! F–Feels good, so good!” You babble, drool leaking out of your mouth and eyes rolling to the back of your head, legs tightening around his waist, wanting to feel him deeper. A whine escapes you as his thrusts become more brutal, causing your body to move up the bed. “Daddy! M–my daddy!” 

Steve grunts, his darkened blue eyes glaring down at your sopping cunt, watching his cock pierce in and out of you. “That’s right, sweetheart. All yours, just like you’ll always be mine.” Your hands curl and grip the blankets, biting into your lip as you stare up at the god-like man. Steve deepens his thrusts. “You going to be my good girl and cum? Cover daddy’s cock with your juices?” You nod, whimpering and crying as your walls tighten and spasm around him. Steve groans as it becomes harder for him to pound into you. Using some of his super soldier strength, he pushes through. His eyes roll back as you squeeze his thick member. Juices squirt from your used hole, covering him and the sheets around you. Your body sags into the bed, and exhausted moans leave you when he continues to pound into you, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as his balls tighten and his cock twitches. Steve buries deep inside you, letting go, spurts of his thick cum filling and leaking out of you. 

You whimper when Steve pulls out of you, tiredly watching as he lifts his finger and collects the cum that leaks from your hole and pushes it back in with a curl of his finger. “D–Daddy…” Steve continues to thrust and curl his finger until you twitch and more of your juices coat him.

He takes his finger out and puts it into his mouth, groaning as he tastes you. His eyes roll back, sucking your juices off of his finger. Steve crawls beside you and pulls your used body against his large one, stroking your hair as you slowly drift off to sleep. “It’s okay, sweetheart….” He looks down at you and smirks, “You have no idea how much I have been holding myself back from you.” Steve leans down and presses a kiss on the top of your head whilst whispering. “And now that I’ve finally had you, I’m never letting you go. I love you too much to let you slip from my fingers, my sweet baby doll.”

He lies back, slowly drifting to sleep with you in his arms, smiling as he thinks of the cute little sounds you’ll make as you cry when you wake up and find yourself in an unknown place. Steve found you once and won’t let the last of his happiness disappear. 

You will be Steve’s forever… whether you like it or not.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[saber-monet]

🍶Pottery Date w/ Steve 🍶

Now Available as vinyl stickers on my Etsy ($2.30-$4, multiple sizes):

Sticker 1

Sticker 2

[allherfuckingtears]

Got a secret, can you keep it?

Summary: Certain news leave you devastated as you walk into the hands of your not so gentle husband.

Characters: dark!Steve Rogers x wife!reader

Warnings: non/dubcon elements, allusion to sexual content, violence, (forced) pregnancy, power imbalance, dark elements

This story contains dark elements, be aware. 18+

Note: Just a little something for @cockslutpadalecki 15 sentence challenge. Haven't written anything in a long time, so bare with me.

__________________________________________

Soft snowflakes dance down the sky, landing on three inch blankets of snow covering once pristine green gras. The suns shines proudly, making the snow glisten like the 24-carat diamond resting heavy on your ring finger. But even the beautiful scenery doesn't reach you. A picture that once would have made you smile like a child on Christmas, now only suffocates you further. Fingers play with the tiny charm on your necklace, a nervous habit picked up when you were younger, as you stare out of the window of your prison, trying desperately to keep the tears and screams inside as the two blue lines mock you. 

You refuse to accept your fate. It can't be true. Not again. 

Tiny hands grab onto your forearm. "Mommy, Mommy", the voice startles you. "What is that?", curious fingers fish for the plastic stick sitting next to you. 

"Nothing, Jay", you push the test out of his reach, as it disappears in your back pocket. "Don't worry about it, baby." 

"Mommy, you've been crying! Why have you been crying?"

"What…" Your fingers meet wet cheeks. - You have been crying. "No, no", you stumble on your words, desperately wiping your face. "I'm okay"

"But you… you've been crying!" The blue eyes looking down at you start to glisten as James' voice turns shrill. 

Panic rises as you desperately try to placate the little human in front of you. You sush him as you pull him down on the floor and into your lap, "Mommy's fine - see", you force a smile on your lips. "Everything's fine, baby. It's okay", you whisper into his hair as tiny arms wrap around your throat. "Have you seen the snow? It's crazy, look", you turn him towards the window. 

"So pretty…" he mumbles, eyes gleaming. "Maybe we can go out and play?" Excitement rises and he's out of your arms and in front of the window before you can even blink. "Please, Mommy!"

"Sure, Jay. But you'll have to wear something warm, okay? It's very cold outside" Standing up you brace yourself on the wall as your head spins.

"Not Jay, Mommy. James. Daddy doesn't like it", he scolds you, voice serious.

A shudder crawls down your spine at the mention of his father. You swallow as you look at the blonde toddler, his spitting image. "Daddy, doesn't have to know".

"Daddy doesn't have to know what?", a deep voice echoes. You jump turning around, heart beating as Steve stands in the doorway. 

"Daddy!", the little boy in front of you squeals, running into the arms of his father. Steve scoops him up off the floor as his cold eyes meet yours. You gulp. 

"Steve…", the whisper escapes you before you can think of what you actually want to say. He's not supposed to be here. Not for the next four hours. Bile rises in the back of your throat as the plastic stick stabs you in your lower back. You're going to vomit, you're sure of it. He looks at you expectantly, gaze turning sterner when you don't move. When you don't greet him like he trained you to. 

"Y/N", his voice snaps, jaw ticking. "Now." 

But you can't. You can't. If you go to him now, if you give him the kiss he wants from you, he'll feel it. He'll feel the test. He'll know and there will be nothing you can do about it. No escaping your fate. Just like the last two times. You know you're done for when he lowers Jay on the ground, gaze still on you. 

"Go, check on your brother, James." He dismisses the boy. Jay looks at you before turning and running through the door. Leaving you alone. To unknowingly suffer at the hand of his father. 

"Kneel", the command comes as soon as his son is out of sight. "Before I fucking make you." You know you have no choice. If you don't do as he says, then he'll make you. This way, you might at least get a chance to hide the doom lingering in the back of your pocket once you inevitably have to ready yourself for your punishment. 

"Steve, please…", you plead as your knees hit the floor. You resume the familiar position, eyes down, palms up. You know exactly what to do. At this point it's basic instinct, a second nature forced onto you for the last four years. A barely audible whisper leaves your lips, a final entreaty before you inescapably have to give into his perverse fantasies, "Please… I'm sorry".

Colds hands find your chin, making you look at him. His thumb catches on your lip, pushing into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, tongue swirling around the digit. Eyes pleading with him. His thumb presses on your tongue before he releases it with a loud pop. "Go on, baby. You know it's more fun for me when you beg."

[biteofcherry]

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

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

Nesting

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

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

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

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

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

That's until his focus switched to your belly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[chrisevansredbelt]

Lamb to the Slaughter

pairing: dark!steve rogers x naive!agent!reader

warnings: DUBCON! SMUT! reader is very naive, booksmart but sexually naive. oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex. kinda grooming i guess. very dubious consent.

read at your own discretion please. 18+ only.

summary: steve takes a liking to you and your naivety. he also takes advantage of it.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

That was probably the best physical part about you. Your ass. Your tits were nice too, but the way your ass sat so nicely in your suit and in any pants really. Well, your tits also sat nicely. But your ass was just phenomenal.

Oh, how Steve wished he could just lay his head down on them like pillows after a long, hard day or bury his face between your legs and grip your ass so hard-

“Captain?” You yell a little louder now, and that’s when he kind of blinks himself out of whatever trance he was in. It was strange, he was looking down at you- but he wasn’t hearing a word you said.

“Sorry-“ He mumbles, “Sorry, uh-“He turns to the toolbox propped on the metal table, “What did you need?”

“The screw?” You point to the screw on the floor which had fallen out of his grip. You would’ve grabbed it yourself had you not been cramped inside of a small hole in the wall to fix the electrical circuit.

“Oh, right.” Steve bends to pick it up, practically at eye level with your ass now as you’re on all fours in the small space. You reach your hand behind you to retrieve the tool as he places it in your hand, “Sorry.”

He quickly regains his composure, standing upright and cursing himself for getting caught. The moment he saw the outline of your little g string through the fabric of your suit, he had dropped the tool. The loud clang of it against the metal floor not enough to pull him back out of that trance. Little innocent you, wearing a g-string. Maybe you weren’t as innocent as he thought. And then he thought of all the things you had probably let some fuck boy do to you… and all the things he could do better.

“It’s okay.” You forgive him, offering him a sympathetic look from the small glimpse of his tired face that you got through the small crowded space you were situated in, “Long day?” You ask, before going back to the board.

“You could say that.” You hear him say after a heavy sigh.

“I can imagine.” You reply, “Must be so hard being Captain.”

“Sometimes.” He shrugs, a smile playing at his lips as he tilts his head to get a better view of your panties through your suit, “But it’s rewarding.” He adds, eyes never leaving your ass that’s on full display for him right now.

“Not worth losing sleep over though.” You quirk, shining your torch on one of the chewed up wires. Rats? Tony Stark can afford all the gadgets in the world, yet he can’t control rats?

“Definitely not.” Steve sighs, “But it’s my job.”

Deciding that this electrical job needs much more than a simple repair, you start shuffling backwards out of the little tunnel, “Well, if you ever need help with any paperwork or anything-“ You say, bracing yourself as you’re greeted with much fresher air. When your feet reach the ground, you kind of sit back on your heels, on your knees in front of Steve as you catch your breath. Steve just about had a heart attack as you so innocently kneel before him. You smile up at him before tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear and continuing your sentence, “If it’s appropriate, I’m happy to help out?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile, looking down- almost blushing as he nods, “That’s very kind of you. I’ll let you know.”

You nod in response, before getting back to the task at hand, “Rats have chewed through the cables- I don’t think we should put any in until we get rid of them.”

Steve just nods, your words going in one ear and out the other however as he clasps his hands in front of him over his raging hard on.

-

“Uh, so if you just um- get on your knees,” You oblige so willingly, dropping to your knees in front of Steve and peaking under the dashboard of the quinjet, “You’ll be able to see it.”

You crane your neck a little to examine the fuse box and electrical circuit all hidden behind a dark plastic panel, “Oh yeah,” You hum, “So many buttons.”

“It’s big, huh?” Steve adds, smiling to himself.

“Yeah,” You scoff. Big was hardly the word for it. You look over it for a few more seconds, then at the sheet of your test paper. Fuses, alternator, corrosion. Those were the three tasks you were given to find and fix all on your own. Even through the plastic shield that showcased the electrical units of the jet, you were confident in completing all three, “Okay, I know what to do.” You nod up at Steve and get comfortable on your knees, “Ready to be my tool bearer?”

Steve snorts, “As I’ll ever be.” He jokes, handing you the screwdriver you almost always need at the beginning of these engineering exams. You get to work immediately, wasting no time so as to hit that criteria. Steve eyes the cockpit jet seat behind him, pulling the tool box of the dash board before asking, “Mind if I sit?”

You look up at him, then back to the chair before laughing a little, “Go for your life.” You tell him sarcastically. He smiles down at you and takes a seat and you look at him over your shoulder, “You have to treat yourself every once in a while, Captain.”

He just huffs softly, watching as you turn back around and work on the engine in front of you- yet again giving Steve the most perfect view of your ass, “Yeah, I do.”

-

It should be illegal for you to wear such an outfit to the gym. It’s no different from any other gym outfit that he’s seen worn by his female team and other female agents. But it’s the fact that you’re the one wearing it, so oblivious to its effect on your Captain.

Scheduled supervised gym times is probably Steve’s favourite place to be. Well, the rare evaluations every once in a while where he has one-on-one time definitely tops it in a heartbeat. But those are hardly often.

Besides, during those times you always opted for much more comfortable gym attire- which basically meant Steve had to use his imagination a little bit more than usual.

“Who’s got you wrapped around their finger?” Bucky breaks Steve out of his thoughts, sitting next to him on one of the benches in the gym as he joins Steve in supervising the training agents, “You’re all spacey.”

Steve just scoffs, shaking his head, “You’re too observant.”

Bucky smirks, “But I’m right?”

Steve just nods subtly, squinting his eyes at you a little- internally deciding if he really wants to tell Bucky. A small part of him just wants to keep you all to himself, because Steve knows damn well that if he tells Bucky- he’ll probably want in. Not that Steve isn’t down to share with his best friend- you were just different.

Steve wanted you all to himself.

But nonetheless, Bucky was his best friend. And Steve would do everything in his power to keep him away from you if Bucky were to show interest.

“See that agent?” Steve mumbles lowly, just enough so that if someone were to walk by, they wouldn’t hear.

Bucky follows Steve’s gaze over to a lone agent. She’s by her duffel, drinking from her water bottle. Some of it misses her mouth- or overflows- and spills down her chin and eventually down her cleavage. Huh, she’s cute.

Both Steve and Bucky catch the moment. And while Steve is more dumbstruck, Bucky just laughs a little, typical Steve’s type- naive.

“A recruit, hey?” He first teases- the age difference a literal slap in the face. Steve just sighs, subtly readjusting his pants so as not to display his hard on, “Okay, I see it.” Bucky nods understandingly as he watches you some more. Bucky knew you, of course, having trained you in a lot of your combat and weaponry courses. You really are a breath of fresh air- that’s the best way he could describe you. Sweet smile, sweeter laugh, best ass.

“She’s so naive.” Steve marvels, “Had her on her knees for about an hour while she worked on the engine, saying all kinds of things that went over her head.”

Bucky smiles at the thought. He decided to keep to himself how he was able to spar with you himself once, let you win and had you on top of him straddling his waist. Or how close he gets to you when handling your weapons. Hey, you’ve gotta learn one way or another.

Instead, Bucky tells him something else. Something not as incriminating for him, but rather… for everyone else.

“All the boys hit on her.”

Steve almost gets whiplash from how fast he turns around to look at Bucky, “Who?” He asks with deeply furrowed brows.

“All of them.” Bucky shrugs, nodding to where they all stand and where you have rejoined them. Steve takes particular note on how all the boys stare down at your chest as you talk and laugh with them, “During their combat training, they call her sweet cheeks. Said it’s because of her smile.”

Steve watches with daggers in his eyes as Bucky’s point is proven. As you walk off with two other female agents towards the treadmills, all the boys stare shamelessly at your ass- chatting amongst themselves after all giddy.

“Bullshit.” Steve mutters

“I’m saying.” Bucky scoffs. The pair are silent as they watch you on the treadmill, the way your hips sway effortlessly as you take each step, “She’s a virgin, you know?” Again, Steve’s head almost loses control and screws off as he whips his head around to look at Bucky, who just shrugs, “They all tease her for it.”

Steve swore he heard wedding bells at that. So you’re a virgin after all.

The two super soldiers remain on that bench for the rest of the session, every so often glancing at other members of the team of recruits, but mostly focusing their attention on you.

In doing so, Steve was silently conjuring up a plan.

As Bucky announced that their training session was over and that they were free to go, Steve got to his feet.

Everyone was on their way out, and as you throw your duffel over your shoulder, you were glad to have finally finished. You couldn’t wait to retreat back to your room and have a nice, long bath-

“Agent L/N,” You turn at the sound of your name, called by an all too familiar voice. You smile up at your Captain despite the uneasy look he gives you with authrotitative hands on his hips, “Could you stay back a minute?”

“Yeah, sure,” You gives your friends a small smile as they leave without you. You wait patiently in front of Steve as he seemingly waits for everyone to leave until it is just the two of you left in the gym, “Is everything okay?” You ask once the final person leaves- the silence wracking your nerves.

He sighs heavily, looking down and God, you’re nervous. You don’t know any better, and from the looks of it, you must be in trouble.

“You’re a great agent,” He starts off and you blink at him a little before softly smiling, “You’re flying through the course and passing every exam. You’re smart, you’re kind.”

“Thank you, Captain.” You feel your cheeks heat up a little at the myriad of compliments he had just given you.

He just gives you a tight lip smile however as he goes to continue, he looks down to the floor and purses his lips with a heavy sigh, “Those boys, not so much.” Your smile falters a little, shocked to hear your Captain speak softly openly and negatively about his recruits, “They seem to treat this course just as some kind of badge for their resume. They don’t take it as serious as you do.” You smile softly at the subtle compliment, but don’t know if it’s the right reaction, “From what I’ve seen, Y/N, I’m not too sure they’re good for you to hang around.” You look up at him now with slightly sad eyes and he’s quick to explain (and hold the moan), “You get all distracted and a lot of the time, they’re just flirting with you. And I’m not telling you who you can and can’t be friends with, but I’d just hate for this opportunity to get taken away from you just because you got wooed by one of them airheads.”

“Oh,” Is all you can say after a short moment of silence, “I-I never realised they were doing that.” You shake your head, cheeks heating up at the thought of all those boys flirting with you. You always thought they were nice, but you never thought they were flirting! To be perfectly honest though, you wouldn’t know flirting if it killed you. Your Captains words swirled all through your head- and you frowned slightly at the thought of disappointing him. You didn’t get in trouble- and certainly not at the expense of some boys, “Well, what do you think I should do?” You ask, “I want to follow your advice, but I don’t want to hurt their feelings by not talking to them anymore.”

Steve doesn’t know why he’s so surprised that his plan worked- I mean look at you. He smiles now, changing his whole demeanour now that he has you right where he wants you, “If you accept, I have a- kind of excuse for you to steer clear of them.” You nod eagerly up at him, prompting him continue, “Be my assistant.” He shrugs, “You can help me out with my paperwork up at my office and I don’t know- maybe you can even join Tony and Bruce in the labs if you like.” He offers and your eyes light up, “So, if they do ever approach you, you can just say you’re too busy to talk.” He adds.

“Okay.” You hardly hesitate to accept the offer, “I’ll do it.”

“Great.” He smiles, “I’ll send you an email with the forms you need to fill out and come Monday, you’ll probably join me in my office for the day.” You nod once more and Steve nods in return, “Have a nice night, Y/N.”

You turn to leave, but stop yourself and spin right back around, Steve unmoving and raising a curious brow, “When you did passing every exam, does that mean I passed the engine exam?” You ask with a slight smirk on your face.

Steve laughs softly, scanning the room quickly before nodding and giving you you’re unreleased result, “Of course you did.”

As you turn back around with the biggest smile on your face, Steve can’t help the smile that breaks out on his own.

He had you right where he wants you. And now it’s only a matter of time.

-

Being Steve’s assistant was probably the best decision you’ve made.

And yes… you got to call him Steve now. It felt so strange at first, felt too informal considering he was now both your boss and Captain. But you both agreed it was even weirder to constantly call him Captain and Mr. Rogers when you would spend practically every working hour together.

And that’s what being his assistant was. When you weren’t fulfilling your training duties, you were helping him out. Paperwork, grading, organising his schedule, picking up his lunch- at one point you even did his laundry.

And it really did work in keeping you away from the boys. You still talked to them every so often, but it was only ever very small talk.

Anyways, every day that you weren’t training, you would meet with Steve at his office at 8AM on the dot. From there you would deliberate on the new day- or if he’d given you a task to do overnight, you’d present it to him then.

Which is what happened last night. You were to input all of the data and Steve’s notes of each recruit and their progress, grades and comments into one big table-spreadsheet thing.

It sounded like a lot, but was actually very easy and you had it done in no time, printed out and alphabetically sorted in a neat pile in your arm as you approached Steve’s office.

Coming up his doors, you stopped dead in your tracks, however, when you heard a few pained grunts coming from within. You furrowed your brows softly and held your ear up against the door. The noise persisted and you worried a little for your Captain. He sounded hurt?

Glancing at the time, it was 8:00AM on the dot. Not wanting to end up even a minute late you knocked on the wooden door to Steve’s office four times before stepping back and waiting. The pained grunts seemingly stopped after your last knock and he cleared his throat. You then heard a soft thump and lot of shuffling before his feet were trudging towards the door.

The door swings open and there stands a puffed out Steve.

“Morning,” You say softly, and before he can greet you back, you ask, “Are you feeling okay, Steve? I heard noises-“

“Yeah, fine, Y/N. Thank you.” He chokes out. He’s totally unconvincing though as his hair is a little disheveled and he seems… exhausted? Nevertheless, he stands to the side and opens the door wider for you, “Come in,”

As you enter the office and brush past him, you quite literally feel his body heat radiate off of him and you persist in ensuring he’s feeling okay, “Are you sure you’re okay?” You place your hand upon his forehead and gasp softly at the heat of his skin, “You’re burning up.”

“No, I’m fine, Y/N.” He shakes his head. You still don’t believe him- and he knows it. He has to stop himself from smiling too hard at how naive you are. Instead he just smiles softly and holds out his pinky for you, “Promise.” You smile down at his pinky now. You still don’t believe him… not fully, but still, you entwine your pinkies together, “Got my papers?” He then asks and you nod, handing him the stack that rests in your arms.

You observed Steve closely for a good 10 minutes as he scanned over the documents. You pretended to work on something on your laptop, but you were mostly stealing long glances up at the man before you- who clearly seemed to have something wrong with him.

Whether he was sick, in pain, tired- you couldn’t tell- probably all three even. But Steve would never let anyone know that- not on purpose anyway. Which is why, as he shifts in his seat for about the 7th time in the last few minutes with a strained expression on his face, you shut your laptop and face him.

“Steve, are you sure you’re okay?” You ask, placing a hand on his arm- before he can respond you cut him off and say, “There’s something wrong and I know you’re too stubborn to take the day off, so is there nothing I can do? Anything at all?”

He sighs softly, “You know me too well.”

You shrug, “It’s kind of my job.” You got really close to Steve after taking up this job- that was never really the plan (not for you at least) but it was basically inevitable. And you’re actually really glad it turned out that way because Steve was just great.

As your rub his arm softly, Steve caves. How can he not? His plan has worked yet again. He was going to drag it out a bit more- maybe wait until the end of the day- that way his unfinished orgasm from when he had edged himself under his desk this morning before you and knocked would be so good.

But he has to give in. With the way you’re rubbing his arm and staring up at him, in your little office outfit that has been driving him crazy for the past few weeks. He has to.

Putting his act back up, he sighs again, “It’s just my-“ You lean closer, almost eager to hear him admit his illness. But Steve just shakes his head and cuts himself off, “You’re just gonna think it’s gross.”

“I won’t!” You shake your head, squeezing his arm, “I had to bunk with the boys on that one mission, I can’t imagine anything more gross.” You try and joke, but it does little to make Steve actually laugh. He fakes one, of course, but on the inside he’s furious.

He could only imagine the jokes and innuendos that flew over your head when you had bunked with those foul boys. And so help them if they had even laid a finger on you.

“Well,” Steve begins, before looking down at the concealed tent in his pants and then up at you, “My cock really hurts.”

You blink dumbly at him, accidentally casting your eyes down to his crotch before quickly looking back up at him, “Oh,” Is all you manage to let out. You weren’t expecting that.

“I’m not sure why. It’s been aching all morning.”

You take your hand of his arm and Steve panics a little. Holding both of your hands in your lap, your furrow your brows, “I-I’m not really sure how I can help…”

“I know how,” Steve says, a little too eagerly but you don’t notice. He takes note of the way your head shoots up, almost willing to hear what he has to say… okay, good… so you’re not completely grossed out- still just as naive as ever, “But only if you’re okay with it?”

You nod, “What is it?”

“Kiss it better.” Steve says. You search his face for any kind of sarcasm, but even though you come up empty handed, you still smile softly- a laugh beginning to break out. Steve mirrors your smile, “I’m serious, it really works. Female saliva is like a painkiller for it.” He quickly lies.

“Really?” You ask, amazed and too gullible for your own good, “So should I spit on it?” You ask innocently and Steve swears he could’ve cum in his pants right there.

He swallows a thick breath, “You’ll have to spread it around as well.” He nods, hands going to his belt and unbuckling it. As he pulls his fly down and pulls out his aching, hard cock that he had tugged into the waist band of his boxers to conceal his boner, he doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up at the sight of him, “See how it’s red and hard- it need to be soft.”

You nod understandingly, “Oh, I think I heard the boys talk about this happening to them on the mission.” You say absentmindedly as you go back to stroking his arm soothingly.

But it does little to help this time. Steve sees red.

“You didn’t touch any of their cocks, did you?” He asks you firmly and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was mad at you.

“No,” You shake your head, a little confused as to why that would be such a bad thing. After all, you’re about to touch Steve’s- and you would only be helping them, right?

“Good girl.” He nods, and you feel a few butterflies in your stomach at his praise- you could never tire of Steve’s praises- and he knew that, “So, get on your knees,” Steve instructs and you hop off your chair and slide to the ground, onto your knees. You naturally just slot yourself between his spread legs, propping yourself up on his thighs as he holds his cock closer to your mouth. You won’t lie- it looks very intimidating and you’re a little nervous, but you trust Steve with your life, “Kiss it better first.” He orders and you picked your lips and kiss the head of it. Steve throws his head back a little and you continue to kiss down the underside of it, nearly giving Steve a heart attack, “Fuck-“

You pull away as he curses, looking up at him with furrowed brows, “Did I do something wrong?” You ask nervously.

One of his hands comes down to tuck a stray hair out of your face and behind your ear as he shakes his head, “It was perfect.” With the same hand, he guides it behind your head, “Now, open your mouth,” You open your mouth slightly and Steve chuckles a little, “Wider than that.” You widen your mouth, “Good, now stick out your tongue.” You do so tentatively, sticking out your tongue fir their and further as Steve nods. Once he’s satisfied with the length of your tongue, he slaps his cock down onto it a few times. You’re a little confused, but let he do what he obviously knows is best. “Now spit on it.” He says, practically reading your body as you retreat your tongue and find a well of saliva already conjured up in your mouth. You spit it onto the tip of Steve’s dick, mouth nudging the tip slightly, “Good.” You both watch it leak over the head and once it reaches a vein, Steve nods, “Spread it around with your-“ You don’t know what came over you, but you just started licking it up and spreading it around with your warm, wet tongue. It just… felt right, “Oh God, keep going- Fuck.”

You swirl your tongue all around him, over his head and down his shaft- wanting to cover every inch of his cock so that he’d feel better.

Steve can’t take it anymore. He was going to ease you into it, but he can’t. The kitten licks are driving him insane and if he waits any longer, he’ll cum all over your face. He doesn’t want that- he wants to cum in your mouth.

So, with his hands cradling your head, he bucks himself into your mouth. You gasp around him, almost choking as he intrudes into your mouth but he shushes you softly and guided you through it, “Just relax.” He coos and nod softly, relaxing your mouth around him as he begins a gentle thrust inside your mouth, “That’s it.”

Steve takes pity on you and only goes as deep as you can fit him. He doesn’t want to gag you- not yet. He’s worried that would only scare you off and that’s the last thing he wants. No, he needs to train you- train your throat to take him as far down as he can.

Your nimble hands squeeze Steve’s thighs every so often when he shoves himself back in and he has to bite his lip so as to not smile. Instead, he just takes that as his sign to praise you even more- he knew how much you loved it.

As he sets a pace, fucking into your face, he already feels himself teetering on the edge of his orgasm- having already started it a few minutes prior so it was no surprise it had arrived so quick.

And as Steve looks down properly at your whimpering form, eyes doed up at him- just waiting for his praises- spit spilling from the corners of your open mouth and tears threatening to spill over your lash line, Steve is done for. A sight he could only dream of- makes him cum in seconds.

He groans as he feels it shoot out of his cock. With his hands still behind your head, he feels your resistance as you try and pull away at the newfound experience of his cum hitting the back of your throat, “It’s okay, take it.” He quickly encourages, “It’s just giving you back all the fluids you gave me.” You nod weakly and unsure, but stay nevertheless and take every last drop.

Once it stops and Steve pulls his cock out of your mouth, you swallow it all down.

Well, Steve certainly didn’t expect that. He had mostly expected you to spit some of it out- was getting ready to tell you a little white lie on how it was good for your body and that you shouldn’t have wasted it.

Which is why he had picked you up off the floor almost instantly, placing you on top of his disk and kissed you. He kissed you! You were frozen in place, but you still let him do it.

Only when he broke away did you finally say something, “Steve-“ You didn’t know much about sex- that mcuh was clear, but you definitely knew that kissing was inappropriate- kissing your captain nonetheless! “Captain, wh-“

“It’s okay- Do you trust me?” He asks you, seeming to totally brush past the fact that he just kissed you! Your hesitation is evident as you look around the room nervously. So you nod softly. “You said you wanted to make me feel better, right?” Steve continues and you nod again- this time more confidently because you were sure of that. You only ever wanted to please Steve… that was kind of like your goal in life… “So then relax.”

Steve kisses you once more and this time you return it. Your lack of experience is telling but it only eggs him on even more.

Distracted by the kiss, you don’t even register how his hands have found their way to your little skirt, pushing it up higher over your thighs.

Only when the cold air meets your revealed cunt do you pull away from the kiss and attempt to close your legs around Steve hands that has his hand buried in your skirt.

You look up at him nervously, and he’s quick to reassure you, “Sh, it’s okay.” And eases your thighs back open.

His fingers meet with your clit and you tense up. Why are you wet? Why now? You have gotten wet a bunch of times before, but why now? Of all the times.

You dip your head in embarrassment as Steve smiles. You’re wet! His fingers slide easily through your folds and you whimper at the sensation. Before you can ask Steve why you feel this way, he’s shoving two fingers into your right, wet hole.

“Steve!” You squeal, clenching tightly around his fingers- making his cock twitch in the air.

“You’re such a good girl. You’re doing so good.” He praises and it works for him like a charm as you become putty in his hold.

Once he deems he’s stretched you out enough, he pulls his fingers out and rubs your little clit with his thumb. You rest your head against his shoulder, eyes falling shut as it sends tingles all through your body.

Again, Steve takes your moment of distraction to take hold of his cock and bring it closer to your weeping cunt sitting at the edge of his desk.

When the head nudges your entrance, you furrow your brows and open your eyes- but before you can question anything, Steve is shoving his cock inside of you.

You cry out, nails digging into his arm, “Steve, that hurts,”

You weakly look up to meet Steve’s gaze as he stills inside you. You pulse around him uncontrollably and it makes Steve feral.

“That’s not how you address me.” He says firmly, and you whimper at his new attitude. He’s mad at you, you’ve done something wrong and you must fix it.

“I’m sorry, Captain, please,” You cry as he begins pulling out. You feel a bit of relief at the familiar empty feeling, breathing deeply and both watching as his cock head is visible again. “Please,” You hardly know what you’re begging for. You don’t want it to stop, but you don’t want it to continue.

Steve locks his eyes with yours as he pushes back in- this time it’s much slower and you can’t tell whether that helps or not. You control your breathing to see if that helps and it surprisingly does as when you open up your eyes once more, he’s fully sheathed inside of you again and you hardly remember it being as bad as that first time.

“God, you’re so tight,” He says, burying his face in your neck and inhaling your sweet maple scent, “Don’t think I’m gonna last long,” He laughs.

You don’t exactly know what to respond, or really what any of his words mean, so you kind of just smile weakly.

“Okay, I’m gonna go a little bit faster now,” He says, standing to his full height and firmly grasping your hips. You look at him terrified, but know better. You trust your Captain- and this is supposed to make him feel better… and you kind of feel nice too. At the hesitant look on your face, he brings himself down to kiss you once again- putting you in a momentary trance as he pulls out and begins a steady thrust.

You whine into his mouth, unable to continue the kiss and he smiles against your lips before pulling away and quickening his thrusts.

“Ah, Captain!” You gasp, “It burns.” You heave, clenching so tightly around him Steve genuinely worried for the safety of his cock.

“Tell me when,” He says, unrelenting in his thrusts as you cry beneath him.

“There.” You say, the moment his head shoved through your hole. Steve takes note and now, whenever his head pushes past, he makes sure to rub your clit extra hard. You moan at the feeling of his thumb rubbing you- cancelling out the burn of his cock with pleasure that courses through you, “Ah-“

“Feel better?” He asks, a small smile on his fucked our face as he continues his ruthless thrusts.

You nod meekly, unable to for any words right now as your body adjusts to his thick cock. Pain turns into pleasure and you’re quickly relaxing around him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

And true to his word, Steve isn’t lasting much longer. It only escalated when you relaxed around him, your body finally recognising how much you were made for Steve, wrapping around him in all the right places- like a key in a lock.

Steve’s hood stutter a little and you whine as his cock twitches inside you several times. He curses above you and you’re a little confused until you feel a warmth full you up. It’s a very strange feeling, it almost tickles a little as Steve paints your insides with his hot, white cum.

Steve’s thrusts have slowed a little as he kisses your neck, and you begin working your hips to meet his to regain that fast pace he once had. You feel something building inside of you- you’re not sure what it is, but you just know you want more of Steve.

“Please don’t stop Captain.” You beg, tightening your legs around his hips to cage him in.

Steve’s eyes light up at the way you’re now begging- when almost a few minutes ago you were almost crying. As he smiles down at you, he picks up the pace of his hips- uncaring to the overstimulation it gives him.

He rubs your clit much faster now as he thrusts into you and whispers a non-stop praises into your ear.

“Doing so good for me,” He says, “Make me so proud, my pretty girl,” Oh, you just about melt, “You’re gonna cum for me, huh?” He asks, “Can feel it in here, hmm?” He presses down on your stomach a little and you moan much louder, “Oh, you like that? You’re such a good girl,”

It’s too much. His words, his thumb, his cock. You snap- well, not really but you feel something snap inside of you. It feels so good and warm, and your cunt pulses around his cock tenfold.

You gasp a little, so unsure of what you’re feeling, but you’re not complaining. It feel so good.

As Steve guides you down your high, you find yourself kissing his neck softly, leaving a small hickey. Your eyes widen a little at the red mark, unsure if Steve would’ve permitted you to do that. But before you can apologise, he’s pulling out of you slowly and you’re frowning at the emptiness.

“This has to be our little secret.” Steve then says, tucking himself into his pants and zipping them up.

You look up at him curiously, letting him take a tissue and clean you up haphazardly before putting both your panties and skirt back in place.

“Why?” You ask, genuinely unsure, “What if the other boys-“

“No.” The grip on your jaw is threatening and you swallow thickly as you look up into his eyes… they look… darker? “Only. Me.” He says, “Maybe Sargent Barnes if you’re lucky, but until I tell you so, just me. Do you understand?” You nod immediately.

You didn’t know what that meant- also what Sargent Barnes had anything to do with this either. But… you had to trust your Captain. You did trust your Captain.

“Yes, sir.”

Smiling, he softens his grip on your jaw but his hand remains, “Good girl.” He nods, pressing a few small kisses to your lips, “You make me so proud, you know that?”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

OH.

BUCKYS TURN. PART TWO HERE.

idk if this was as dark as it could b buttttttttt go easy on me i’ve never written dark stuff before!

anyway happy birthday steve