#dark steve Rogers

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, misogyny, loss of virginity, mentions of blood (heavy mentions), mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), anal play, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Even Captain America deserves a reward after an intense, grueling mission.

𝐀/𝐍: Here we go! 16.3k words. Written very quickly. Not edited so please be forgiving. Also I don't have much knowledge on Shield and all that, so yeah! Final warning to PLEASE read the warnings! Anyways, enjoy!

“The girl’s ready, Captain.”

Steve nods at the SHIELD agent tersely, “She’s in my room?”

“Yes, sir. And all your specifications have been followed.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

The agent bows his head before leaving the office, and Steve finds himself pacing. He often paced after gruelling missions, as if trying to get all the leftover adrenaline out. Tonight had been particularly challenging; a local university under threat from HYDRA. Thousands of screaming staff and students, the air painted with gunshots and screams of chaos. But Steve’s team had come to the rescue. Just like they always did.

His team all had different ways of dealing with it, the trauma and evil they saw every day. Clint had his family to go home to, and some middle-of-nowhere farmhouse that Steve would’ve found quaint if he’d given more of a fuck. Tony’s solution was alcohol – copious amounts of it. And maybe that would’ve been Steve’s fate too, stumbling out of a bar at three in the morning having no idea where he was, but of course, he had the serum to thank for avoiding him that. Natasha immersed herself in her friends, Sam partied a lot, Bruce locked himself up in his lab because God knew he was wrestling more demons than anyone else. Except maybe Bucky… But even Bucky had a girl to help him cope.

That left Steve. But Steve had this.

I deserve this. He thinks it to himself as he makes his way out of his office and down the hall toward the elevator. There are SHIELD agents scattered here and there, chattering mindlessly about the successful mission and how, thanks to the Avengers, there were no civilian deaths. But they all hush when they see him, parting like the Red Sea, their heads bowed in respect as he walks past them. The Captain. The hero. Their leader. He’s still in his suit, the shield still on his back and bloodied cuts decorating his face. Nevertheless, he’s the face of the Avengers. Everyone in this building looks up to him.

Everyone on the face of this Earth looks up to him.

And a few minutes later, when he gets off the elevator and to his private floor, walks over to his bedroom door and opens it, he finds a large pair of eyes looking up at him too.

You jump, the fear on your face so evident that Steve can almost smell it. Standing in the corner of his room as if you want to permeate through the wall or maybe disappear altogether. Your arms hug your body in a bid to hide it from whoever you thought was going to enter this room, but you seem to relax once you see that it’s him.

“C-Captain, it’s you! Oh, thank God!” Your shoulders sag in relief, although – much to Steve’s displeasure – you continue to cover your body with your arms, “I-I don’t know what happened, but there’s some bad people here, and they took me while I was being evacuated from the university, a-and they brought me here and they wouldn’t answer my questions and–”

Steve frowns as you drone on and on, talking about a mile a minute – a quality he doesn’t particularly care for in a woman. But his eyes drink you nevertheless. You look young – a college student, no doubt – but he finds he doesn’t mind that. In fact, it makes his cock harden, seeing how wide-eyed and naïve you look, a lot younger than him. A pretty face, and an attractive body too despite the fact that you seemed hell bent on hiding it from him.

“Put your arms down by your side.” He commands you, watching closely as you stop mid-sentence, your voice trailing off. He can tell you’re uncomfortable, confused, and probably tired out from fighting and arguing with his agents. But he knows already what’s going through your mind: that you’ll obey because it’s Captain America, and Captain America was a hero who always meant well. Hesitantly, slowly, your arms fall down to your sides.

Steve had very specific tastes, and his agents knew to follow his instructions to a tee. Which was why you stood before him, your body sheathed in the prettiest, most expensive vintage lingerie. All lacy and intricate, just how Steve liked it – white and silky, hugging your body like a second skin and accentuating your curves, making you look like half angel, half seductress. He’d long ago, in a different lifetime, pored over old pin-up magazines, just like any other boy his age would. He’d likened the white lingerie in the pictures to be what his innocent bride would wear the night he deflowered her. Back in the forties, back when he’d been a different man, a man who actually cared about trivial things like marriage and family. Years of war and fighting had beaten that out of him.

And yet, almost a century later, Steve still has a partiality for white, lacy lingerie.

After every mission (successful or not) SHIELD would bring him a girl in vintage lingerie. Always an unsuspecting girl who had no idea what she was being pulled into. They came in all sorts of varieties; crying, kicking, screaming, paralysed in fear when they realised the reason they were in his bedroom. But Steve deserved it, for every single sacrifice he’d made for his country, for the world – he deserved this one bit of pleasure. Bucky had his girl, Sam had his parties, Tony had his alcohol, Bruce had his lab… And Steve had this.

And it was the least you could do, the least all those girls before you could do, because hadn’t Steve saved you? Saved all of you? This was his payment. You were his reward.

“C-Captain?” He notices how you can’t help but stutter, and he finds it amusing despite the fact that he’s used to having this effect on women – especially immature college girls like you. You gesture down to your body, “Th-This isn’t how I was dressed – they put me in this, those bad guys! N-Now I don’t know where my clothes are, and, and…”

Once more, your voice trails off as Steve walks past you nonchalantly. He heads to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open so he can keep an eye on you lest you try to escape. Not that you’d get very far – this whole floor was his and every lock required his facial recognition to open. In the past, other girls had tried to escape, and sometimes Steve enjoyed the chase. But tonight, he felt tense. He’d wanted to capture all the HYDRA agents but two of them had escaped. To Steve, that was failure, and failure made him tense. Angry. Frustrated. He needed someone submissive, obedient, quiet…

“C-Captain, I’m gonna be okay, aren’t I?” You ask, voice high-pitched and shaky, and Steve almost smirks. He stands in front of the sink, surveying the scratches on his face. They’d heal overnight, and once more he’d be the perfect face of the Avengers. The face of America. The face of hope, the face of good. If only they knew what went on behind his eyes, the thoughts he thought, the darkness behind the façade.

He washes his hands, observing the blood as it swirls down the drain of the sink.

“Sir… Captain… Is there a way I could call my family? They’ll be worried about me, and those people took my phone so I don’t–”

“Get on the bed.”

“H-Huh?”

“Get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself.”

Steve’s voice is soft, levelled, yet commanding. And he knows you’ll listen. He’s been over this with so many of the other girls brought in for him as a post-mission reward. You still trust him, he can see it in your eyes. You know him as the superhero you see on TV, where he’s all clean-cut and politically correct as he commands the hearts of millions through his motivational speeches and actions. And by the looks of it, you’re so naïve that he knows you haven’t yet figured out what “get on the bed” truly infers to.

And so you do, gingerly settling down on the edge of his king-sized bed, shaking like a little leaf but he can tell that you’re trying to keep a brave face as you look up at him, determined to trust the super-soldier that the whole country trusted. And breaking that trust, breaking that spirit that shone in your innocent eyes, that was the sweet release he needed tonight, or any other night after each mission made him grow more disillusioned. Breaking your trust, breaking your body so all of this was worth it.

Sometimes, Steve wonders when exactly he had changed. He remembers how plucky and optimistic he used to be. A little bit sardonic, a little bit sarcastic, but he really did have a heart of gold – at least that’s what people told him. Even after they’d dug him out from that iceberg, he’d still been that same guy. But that was years ago, and each day he grew more disillusioned with what he preached, what he stood for. He could never settle, never feel like he fully belonged in the world he kept risking his life to save over and over again. Even Bucky, who’d gone through so much, had managed to find fulfilment through finding love.

Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think love exists.

What does exist is you… Sweet, quivering, innocent little you. The SHIELD agents know his tastes down to a tee, and physically, you’re everything he likes, everything he prefers. It’s nights like these when Steve really feels alive, when he snuffs out the innocence of some unsuspecting girl and reaps his reward for saving countless lives. He deserves this. God knows he deserves this.

“What’re you doing?” You whisper, eyes round as saucers as he reaches out to stroke your hair. He bristles slightly, annoyed by your persistant questions. You should know better – he was your superior after all. But you’d learn by the time the night was over, and so Steve resumes petting you, slipping his hand down to rub your cheek, feel your smooth skin under the rough callouses of his hand.

The same hand that had choked two or three HYDRA bastards to death earlier tonight.

“You will address me as Captain.” He says, dismantling his shield from his back and placing it on the floor against the bed. He follows your gaze, how your mouth drops open in awe despite how scared you are. His cock hardens, knowing you’re impressed by him. By his size, because he’s aware he looks even bigger in person than on the news – enough girls have told him that. And by the shield too, because it reflected his power, his status, everything that he supposedly stood for.

You clear your throat nervously, “S-Sorry, uh, Captain, I just, uh, I was wondering when you’d take me home,” you say the last few words quickly, as if you’re mouth’s dry and you’re rushing to get all your words out. “I n-need to get home, my parents will be worried about me, Captain, and I have homework–”

Steve almost snorts at that. Homework. You were even more innocent than he thought you were, if one of your biggest concerns was whether you’d get your homework done or not. And this naivete amuses him, enamours him, but most importantly, it gets him hard.

“You’ll be taken home tomorrow.” He informs you, his tone clipped and formal, clinical like a doctor informing his patient when they’d be discharged. He liked to keep it like that between him and his “rewards.” Steve didn’t believe in intimacy, and didn’t feel the need to waste kindness on you or any of the previous girls. He faked kindness and heroic optimism all day, it was only at night in the privacy of his quarters that he could shed all that away and allow his darkness to take over.

“T-Tomorrow? Why? Why not tonight? And why am I here, anyways? Everyone else was evacuated together!”

“Enough.” He says sternly, and you shrink back like a chastised child, or an injured puppy. He watches your lower lip as it juts out, and he wonders if you’ve done that on purpose as a way to appease him. He wouldn’t fall for it though, he was wise to women and all their cheap tricks they used to wrap weaker, lesser men around their fingers. Steve would never be one of those men. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”

Your lower lip quivers, “I don’t understand…”

He sits down next to you, acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. Leisurely, his eyes drink in your body now that he’s much closer to you. The bra pushes your breasts upwards so they spill out attractively over the creamy white lace of the lingerie, and he watches them rise up and down as you breathe heavily, probably trying to keep yourself from crying. He wishes you would cry – tears have always turned him on. But the night is young, and he knows he’ll see some tears soon, he always does.

“C-Captain, please, please help me! I’m so confused and I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know how I got into this outfit, I think they drugged me, and I’m scared, and I have homework, and I gotta go now, so pl– OW!”

Steve yanks you forward by your hair, till your face is inches from his, and he can practically smell your fear. Eyes as big as saucers look up at him, shining bright with unshed tears of both fear and pain. He loosens his grip slightly, despite the fact he isn’t holding you too tightly – but the serum gives him inhumane strength, and you’re just a weak little girl after all.

“Once again, I’m telling you not to speak without permission. Do not make me repeat myself one more time.”

You swallow harshly, bowing your head once he lets go of your hair. But your lips are now pressed tightly together, as if you’re hoping he’ll take you home if you shut up and listen. There’s still light in your eyes, you’re beginning to question him inwardly but you still trust him, Steve knows you do. And it’s not long now before he crushes that trust completely.

He sighs at your compliance, stroking your quivering bare arm, thrill shooting straight down to his cock because of how soft and smooth you are. He likes the juxtaposition between the two of you right now: you, so soft and small, so much younger than him, like a doll in your pretty lingerie that he’d picked out. And him, more than double your size, jaded with age that didn’t physically show, bloodied and scratched suit, rough hands, dark thoughts.

“C-Captain, I’m scared,” you whisper, and you really do look like you’re about to wet yourself, and it turns him on so much that he doesn’t even bristle at you speaking out of turn again.

“Good.” He murmurs, continuing to stroke you like you’re his little doll. There’s something about you, something so pure that he can’t really put his finger on. In the past, he’s been detached, unforgiving, often just throwing his “reward” on the bed, holding her head down against the mattress while he fucked the living daylights out of her. He would be detached and cold with you too, but this time he feels a peculiar need to savour you at the same time.

It's when he grabs your hand and places it on his hard crotch that you start crying in earnest, finally realising your fate.

“What’re you– No, please, not that! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, please–”

You try to snatch your hand back, but he holds it steadily in place. You’d never be a match for his strength, no matter how hard you tried – he had more brute power in his pinkie finger than you did in your whole body. And that turns him on even more.

“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he repeats, not even sure why he’s explaining anything to you, because he usually doesn’t speak to the girls brought for him at all, let alone reassure them. “Tomorrow, you’ll see your family but tonight, your body is mine and I’ll do with it what I please.”

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, but quickly you shake your head, blinking rapidly as if you’ve misheard him. “N-No, Captain, I don’t want to! Y-You can’t make me,” you look at him pleadingly, trying to tug your hand back but he holds it firmly against his covered cock, “You won’t make me, will you, Captain? Th-That’s wrong! An’ you’re a good man so you’d never do that!”

“Take it out.”

A different man would have perhaps consoled you, told you it would all be over soon, or maybe even made up an excuse to manipulate you into sleeping with him. A better man would’ve taken pity on you, given you your clothes back and taken you home. But Steve wasn’t like any of those men. All Steve was right now was impatient, and more than ready for his reward. I deserve it, he thinks once more to himself, before pressing your small hand down on his crotch meaningfully.

“Take my dick out.” He repeats sternly, and when you still don’t comply (probably because you’re frozen in shock and fear) Steve can’t help but quickly undo his fly before pushing your hand down his suit pants, letting out a hiss when he feels your dainty palm and fingers on his rock-hard flesh.

“No, no, no, please no,” you cry softly, rivulets of tears streaking your face, “This is wrong, Captain, please.”

He makes you wrap your hand around his cock, smirking to himself when your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around all the way. The serum had made him a lot bigger than average, and a lot thicker too. So much so that every time he had sex, no matter how much he stretched the girls out, there would always be blood. He’d grown to become turned on by the sight of it.

“I’ve seen you on TV,” you whisper desperately, and he knows you’re in that state of mind where you’re just so scared that you’ll say anything and everything, “I’ve seen how you are, a-and you’re supposed to be the good guy, Captain. Please, let me go, y-you’re a good man so please–”

“Shut up.” He says simply, making you take his dick out. That quietens you up for a second, and you gape at his huge dick as it slaps up against his abs which are still covered by the suit. He hasn’t had sex or jacked off in about a week now (missions, press conferences, community work and other bullshit had kept him busy) and his dick is almost angry hard, the veins so prominent as he throbs in your hand.

“Stroke it.” He instructs you.

You shake your head, hand limp around his hard cock, “You c-can’t, this is wrong.”

“Drop the coy act,” he orders you, feeling a surge of impatience when he’s tried to be level with you for so long, “I know what you kids watch these days on the internet, and all the vulgar movies on television. Now do what I fucking say, or else.”

You look both taken aback and hurt by his sharper tone, and immediately you’re shaking your head.

“N-No, Sir, please. I don’t watch any of that stuff, I’m not allowed to, okay? A-And this is wrong on so many levels, you’re meant to be a good guy!”

Steve finds his cock hardening even more when he hears how you’re not allowed to watch the vulgarity that’s become so normalised in the media now as compared to back in the day. Were you, perhaps, a girl with morals? Someone who was raised well? He had yet to run in to such a girl in the twenty-first century.

“I’ve seen you on the news,” you try again when he doesn’t speak, “you and the Avengers, you’ve saved c-countless people. You’ve won wars for us. I w-went to see you when you gave a talk at my school last year, the one about good versus evil. You’re an inspiration, Captain, you wouldn’t do this!”

You’re talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows you’re doing it to prolong time till your inevitable fate. He’s tortured enough men to know that goners loved to run their mouths. As for what you’re saying, it has zero effect on him. He didn’t believe in what he said, what he stood for – you could never use that to persuade him to take a higher road.

He starts moving your hand up and down on his dick, hissing again because of how pleasurable your dainty hand feels on his rock-hard length, not to mention how much it turns him on that you’re still trying to pull your hand away, looking anywhere but at his cock, embarrassment mixing with the bone-chilling fear on your face.

“Y-You’re not a good man!” you finally sob out, shaking from head to toe as realisation finally seeps through your head.

Your words bristle Steve for whatever reason. In the past, his “rewards” have often back-talked him, insulted him as if they thought their words would have any impact on him – which they never did. But seeing you, with your bright, optimistic eyes that clearly looked up to him up until this moment, hearing you call him a bad guy… It makes him feel defensive.

“I saved you.” He spits out, “HYDRA attacked your university and I saved you and all your little friends. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

You nod desperately, “I-I know, Captain, that’s why I don’t understand why you’re doing thi–”

“I deserve this.” He says simply, cutting you off. “I risk my life to save unthankful people like you, over and over again. Even a super soldier deserves payment, or at least an incentive to do what I do.”

Your jaw drops open, speechless and horrified. Steve couldn’t care less, and he feels another wave of impatience. Two weeks ago, he’d endured a similarly gruelling mission, and his reward had been waiting for him in his room. She’d been mouthy, of course, as most women of the twenty-first century were, but he’d fucked her and sent her packing within fifteen minutes. So why, on this particular occasion, was he sitting here making idle chit-chat with some dumb-witted college girl who was half his age?

He's always been quick, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, his rough fingers digging into your soft skin. He drags you into his lap, till you’re crying on top of him, your back to his chest. You struggle and flail against him, but it’s to no avail as he presses you down on top of his thigh, spreading your legs and locking them with his own.

“Stop struggling,” he orders you through gritted teeth, although he has to admit that having a weak girl like you fighting against him with all her might while he held you down with just his one arm was quite arousing, “It’ll be easier for you if you just stay still.”

“Please don’t, I-I’m not ready for this, I’ve never done this before, I–”

Steve snorts at that. He knows you’re young, but he also knows that girls in this century are promiscuous, and that’s putting it kindly. How many lies would you tell before you realised they’d all be in vain? He was goddamned Captain America, and he was going to have his way with you tonight no matter what came out of that pretty, pouty mouth of yours.

Grabbing your soft, bare thighs with his hands, he pushes them further apart, all while you cry and quiver in his arms like a wounded animal. Your white, lacy panties hide your pussy from his greedy, impatient gaze, and he wants nothing more than to rip your lingerie apart and ravage you to soothe the ache of his hard cock which is currently pressing against your back.

“Push your panties aside.” He commands, “and don’t even think about arguing with me. One more word of insubordination out of you, and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”

You’re sobbing and sobbing as you gingerly do what he says, and he licks his lips when he sees your bare pussy, trussed out for him as he holds your legs apart. He can’t help but press a finger on your bundle of nerves before swiping downwards over your slit. He frowns. You’re not wet. That simply won’t do.

Of course, he’s been in this situation before. Not often, because truthfully, women got wet the second they looked at him, turned on by his size, his power, his authority. But sometimes, like now, when one of his “rewards” was very scared and non-compliant, she wouldn’t be wet. Steve didn’t care, and he’d go in dry if he could except, with the sheer size of his dick, it just wasn’t physically possible. Often, he’d tell the SHIELD agents to prep his rewards before they were sent to his room – stretch their pussies out by whatever means (he didn’t care) so long as they were able to take his girth.

But you… Oh, he reckons he’ll have fun with stretching you out all by himself.

“Touch yourself.” He says into your ear, holding you in place tightly.

“I…I…I don’t know how, I don’t– I don’t do this, I’ve never done this, I–”

There’s something about your frightened demeanour that makes him realise that maybe you’re not lying after all. He raises a brow, “You’ve never touched yourself?”

“N-No, Sir – I mean Captain – I’m not allowed to. My parents are very conservative, Sir, I haven’t even had my first kiss. Please don’t make me do this!”

Steve didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder, but it does. So big and painfully hard, it presses against your back almost indecently as he licks his lips, now infinitely more interested in you. So you were a girl raised right in these godforsaken “modern” times. His mind conjures up different ways in which he could teach you, mould you, ruin you… He doesn’t remember the last time he had a virgin – it was probably back in the forties, back when women were pure and of good heart and good intentions.

Maybe tonight’s reward would be sweeter than any other.

He grabs your hand, pressing it against your petal-soft folds. He takes your pointer finger and slowly, gently, circles it around your clit. You fight against him but it only takes you a few seconds to realise that your efforts are completely futile. Steve does not care for what you want, not in the least. You’re his reward, and he deserves this.

He leaves your finger on your clit, shooting you a deathly look that conveys that you better keep circling it or else. His own eager fingers explore your core, slipping down to probe you, finding that not even one of his fingers fits inside your little fuckhole. In fact, he tries pushing his pinkie finger up inside but to no avail at all. Fuck. You weren’t lying – you were definitely a virgin. Another telltale sign is how it only takes a handful of seconds before your wetness begins to spread, and you whimper softly – probably at all the foreign sensations you’re feeling as Steve continues to probe your hole.

“Feels good, huh?” Steve hears himself say softly, and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering wasting words on you. He never spoke to any of his other rewards – they were only there for his pleasure, and may as well have been inanimate objects to him. Dolls brought in for him to use and then promptly taken away when he was done with them. But you? Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him.

“I-It won’t fit, Captain, please stop,” you cry softly when he tries to force his finger into you again. You’re adequately wet now, but your pussy continues to reject his finger, and he knows there’s no way you’ll be able to take his dick if he doesn’t stretch you out with his fingers first.

“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, throwing you aside on the bed and standing up quickly. He sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting your sweetness and shutting his eyes for a second to savour your taste. And then he shoots you a warning look, “Stay there.”

He smirks when you don’t move an inch – probably paralysed with fear – as he walks over to the dresser next to his bed. Rummaging through his drawers, he sorts past all the sex toys that some agent had probably stocked up inside. Steve didn’t have much use for them, as he considered himself too traditional for toys. But he can’t help but be turned on by the idea of using a large dildo on you, or stuffing your virgin ass with a cute plug. But for right now, he grabs the bottle of lube – it’s half empty because of how often he’s had to use it on his past partners. Since the serum, his dick was way too big to go in naturally, especially when it came to a sweet virgin like you.

Roughly, he pushes you down till your back is pressed against his king-sized mattress. He climbs on top of you, rolling his eyes at the fight left in you, how you flail and fight against him despite his body being more than twice your size. He uses his arm to hold you down, but truthfully, he could’ve done it with just his pinkie finger.

“Stay still,” he commands, pinning your limbs down flat against the bed. You resort to sniffling and crying silently, your wary eyes watching him as he spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. A sudden feral urge takes over him, and he rips your panties in half, the flimsy material landing gracefully on his sheets. Your bare pussy glistens up at him, now wet with your sweet cream despite how much you continue to cry. He can smell your sexy aroma; the scent of a virgin pussy and it goes straight to his dick.

With an animalistic snarl, he dips his head down between your legs. Using two fingers to spread your creamy petals, he lays his tongue flat against your quivering fuckhole. You scream in shock, body jerking underneath him but he doesn’t care. He grips your thighs, lifting your ass and lower back up off the bed, watching carnally as your wetness drips down to between your ass crack. He spreads your cheeks, smirking when you wail in surprise. He digs his eager tongue between your cheeks, probing your puckered, virgin ass before licking a straight line all the way back up to your pussy, ending with a harsh suck on your clit as he holds your hands at bay.

It’s come out of nowhere, this sudden need to taste you. Back in the forties; Steve had rather enjoyed going down on women. He knew he was skilled at giving head, he’d been told more than enough times. But he can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Never with any of his “rewards,” who were only ever good for fucking on their hands and knees like dogs. But you, you were different.

You wiggle, crying and begging him to let go of you but you may as well be a fly with how weak and inconsequential your pleas are to his ears. Instead, he laps at your baby cunt like he’s starved. Like a starved caveman, he spits down on your clit, wanting to make your pureness as messy as possible. He spreads his saliva all over your core with his fingers, marking you up with his DNA. He encases your now engorged bundle of nerves between his lips once more, giving it another hard suck but this time his teeth graze against it.

“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”

It’s when Steve finally forces his one finger inside you that you squirt, drenching his digit as your walls clamp down around it. And God-fucking-dammit, he can’t believe how tight you’re squeezing his one singular finger, how tight and sexy and soft you feel around it. How your slippery walls pulsate around his digit like you’ve never cum before in your life – which would explain how quickly you’ve come undone. Some of your wetness lands on his face, some of it on the sheets beneath you, and that’s when Steve realises he’s given a virgin her first orgasm.

He can’t help but smirk, his finger still lodged inside you, but not even halfway because you’re still so fucking tight.

“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop after all, sweetheart.” He says, not realising he’s used the pet-name on you until it’s already out of his mouth. He sets the lower half of your body back down on the bed, his finger still inside you.

You sniffle as your whole body shakes with the remnants of your orgasm, “P-Please,” you say faintly, and you can’t even raise your head to look down at him, “Please, can I go home now?”

Steve’s lip curls into a snarl, and he drives his finger inside you with renewed force, curving it upwards even when he feels resistance. You scream bloody murder, and he knows if your orgasm hadn’t sapped all your energy, you’d be flailing your legs again. But for now, he easily holds you down, feeling your soft walls encase his finger which is now up to the hilt inside you. That’s when he grabs the bottle of lube, squirting out a generous amount onto the rest of his fingers.

“N-No, Captain, please, I can’t take another one, I can’t, I can’t!” You plead, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Captain – Steve – please listen to me, please, look, I can’t take another finger, pl–”

His palm lands on your clit with a wet smacking sound, and you howl in pain, your pelvis lifting off the bed except he pins you back down with just one hand.

“Don’t fucking use my first name. You will address me as Captain. One more slip up and I won’t do you the favour of stretching you out.” His intense blue eyes meet your tear-filled ones, “And trust me, you want to be stretched out for when I fuck you.”

With gritted teeth and a cock that’s now painfully hard, he gets to work trying to stuff another finger into your pussy. His other hand grabs your hip in a bruising grip, and his fingers stroke your smooth, bouncy ass every so often like he can’t help it. You’re turning him on so fucking much; with your crying, how you’re begging him to stop, how weak and small you are, how fucking tight your pussy is. It makes Steve want to say something just so he can hear you speak in response, despite the fact that he’s never vocal during sex.

“Tell me, why is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me.”

You sniffle again, shooting him a pleading look that he doesn’t even bother acknowledging. He just looks at you with waiting eyes as he nonchalantly continues to force his second finger inside you. He wants to hear you say naughty things with your innocent little mouth, and talking would get you to fucking relax so he could penetrate you with his digits properly in order to stretch you out in preparation for his dick.

“I-I’ve never done this before…” you scrunch your eyes shut, but a quick slap to your thigh has you opening them again.

“You’ve never fingered yourself?”

“No!”

“Tell me why not.”

You bow your head, “I don’t know… I just… I never did, okay? I’ve never done any of it.”

A wicked thought crosses Steve’s mind, “Oh yeah? You’ve never done anything naughty, huh? You’re a good girl?” His second finger curves up to join the first, and your hips jerk forward as you suck in your breath. It makes him smile, and he slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and out of you, “You’ve never, say, humped your baby cunt against your pillow at night? Or your stuffed animals?”

The way you freeze and how your eyes widen is all the confirmation Steve needs. He chuckles darkly.

“So that’s the type of girl you are. Riding your pillow at night when you think no one’s watching, and you probably touch your body all over, too, don’t you?” Lightning quick, his other hand leaves your hip, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to your chest. Through the material of your bra, he makes you cup your breast like how he would, wanting to watch with dark eyes as you play with your tits, trying to imagine how hot you’d look doing just that all alone in the privacy of whatever girlish bedroom you had.

Steadily, he continues to finger you, pumping his digits in and out of your greedy, wet pussy, and it makes slurping sounds as it swallows his fingers in over and over again. And he observes you carefully, notices your wide eyes, the sweat on your brow, the way your lips are parted as your breathing shallows out. He even sees the slight buck of your hips, and he knows he has you where he wants you, hanging on to his every filthy word despite your mind screaming at you to continue resisting.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve mutters lowly, “I know that’s what all innocent little girls like you do when they think they’re alone. You play with your tits and you rub your cunt all over your pillow, till you’ve got it all wet and messy. All while you fantasise about a man like me fucking you, taking care of you, huh? I’m right, aren’t I?”

You’re full on panting now, as if his beguiling words have made you forget all about your resistance, and you rock your hips harder against his thick fingers, little pants and moans sneaking past your pouty lips as he watches you closely.

“And then you act like a good girl, and you lie to me and tell me you’ve never touched yourself. But you and I both know that’s not true. Not when you spend your nights alone in your bedroom riding your little pillow while mommy and daddy sleep in the next room, and then when you’re done, I bet you bring it up to your face, just so you can smell your own wetness, right?”

This time, he gives your ass a swift slap when you don’t reply, and you cry out in pain before squeezing your eyes shut.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe softly, so softly that he barely catches it. But it makes him grin wickedly all the same. He hasn’t had this much fun with a reward since God knows when. He never bothers speaking to the lowlife girls brought to him as post-mission rewards, let alone engaging in dirty talk with them as he was with you, hanging on to your every word because it makes his dick so fucking hard.

“Of course, I’m right,” he mutters, “Captain always knows. I know you’re a little slut in the making just like all the other college girls of this century. You bring your pillow up to your face and you smell your cunt on there, and you lick it too, don’t you? You taste yourself because you’re curious, and you don’t have a man like me to show you how it’s done.”

He slips his fingers out of your cunt, your walls automatically squeezing around them as if they want to keep him inside you. But his digits are dripping wet, and he brings them up to your face. He shoves them past your lips, and you protest but all it does is create vibrations around his fingers as he smears them inside your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he orders you, “suck on daddy’s fingers, don’t be shy.”

It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s just referred to himself as daddy. He hasn’t done that in a while – not since the forties, at least. Back then, it was quite common for women to call their man daddy, and Steve remembers enjoying it when he used to fuck the show girls during tours. But now? He usually stuck to being called “sir” or “captain” or just nothing at all. Because “daddy” was way too intimate, it suggested that he was going to take care of you. And he wasn’t going to take care of you – he was going to ruin you before you’d be taken away tomorrow.

And yet you look so sweet and cute as you suck on his fingers, too scared to fight back any more although your eyes blaze with objection, and tears stream down your face. He doesn’t think you’ll stop crying at all tonight, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that. Not when your pouty lips look so hot sucking yourself off his fingers.

“That’s right, get ‘em nice and wet,” he murmurs lowly, before deciding he misses the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his fingers – and he still has to stretch you out, too. He removes his digits from your mouth, watching as you gasp to breathe. He trails them down your front, down your chest, down your torso, all the way down to your clit. He gives it another smack, loving how you jerk upwards like you’re so damn sensitive.

He grabs a pillow, putting it underneath your ass so he has your cunt propped up and he can examine it better. Your cream is pouring out of you almost, dripping down to the pillow below you while you cry and pretend you don’t like it. But the signs are all there, he can even see how your pelvis shakes and humps upwards, because you need a man to fill you up no matter how much you protest.

“Tight little baby cunt,” he says softly as he spreads your pussy lips once more. You look so wet and slippery and yet he knows he needs to pour some more lube into your fuckhole, which he does. And then, without giving you much time to react, he shoves three of his fingers inside you, pushing harder and with more force when he’s met with any barrier.

“STOP, NO, PLEASE! STOP, CAPTAIN – TOO MUCH!” You scream so loudly that the walls seem to vibrate around the two of you.

“Shut up and take it,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes up at you before he focuses back on your gorgeous cunt, watching as your leaking hole finally swallows his three digits, “Look at this greedy little virgin pussy, so ready for my big dick to split her in half.”

You shake your head violently, crying and protesting, but it’s when you bat at his head that he sees red. How fucking dare you hit him? Just now, when he was thinking you’d been raised well, but clearly not if you didn’t think it was a problem to hit your superiors.

“You raise your hand at me again, and I’ll hit you back twice as hard.”

His menacing words make you freeze, and you whimper quietly in absolute fear as he continues to play with your pussy. He fingers you in earnest now, three of his digits stretching you out as he scissors you open, amused by the squelching sounds your cunt makes as it swallows his fingers over and over again.

“Apologise to me,” Steve demands, “say you will not raise your hand at your superior ever again.”

You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”

“Sorry, who?” He pinches your ass unforgivingly.

“Sorry, Captain! I won’t raise my hand at my superiors, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You squeal the last few words, your pitch going higher and higher as your hips begin to meet his thrusts. And bless your innocent fucking face, you look so confused by what’s happening. Your pussy’s jammed tight but he knows it must’ve started feeling good. All greedy little girls like you needed was a little push in the right direction.

Off their own accord, your thighs lock around his hand as you cum for a second time, your walls squeezing and pulsating against his fingers so fucking tightly as you mewl and cry above him. You’re absolutely gushing with wetness now, and the pillow below your ass is stained dark with your juices. For someone who kept claiming she didn’t want this, you sure were receptive to his touch.

Steve snatches his fingers out of you, smirking when you, despite everything, cry in protest at the loss of friction. He bets your pussy feels all gaping and empty now, because he knows how big and thick his fingers are. A normal-sized man would’ve had trouble stretching your virgin cunt out with his dick – Steve had had that same problem with just his fingers.

But he knows he’ll somehow manage to fit his cock inside you if he prepped you well enough. Or else he’d spend the whole night trying to. Often, with the women he’d slept with in the past, he’d be too impatient and couldn’t be bothered to prep them properly. Because of that, he’d only be able to fit half his dick inside them, and he’d grown used to fucking them like that, only because it was physically impossible to go any deeper. He won’t let that be the case tonight.

He climbs up your quivering body, and you look spent already after two orgasms, your eyes fluttering like you’re about to pass out. Steve can’t have that though, and he taps your cheek not so gently, hovering on top of you till you open your eyes and meet his gaze.

“Please, Captain,” you whisper faintly, “E-Enough, please. Can’t take any more.”

Steve ignores you. He’s grown distracted by your lips. How wet and warm and pouty they look, glistening with a mix of your salty tears, your cum and your saliva. Fuck. He never kissed any of his “rewards” before, it was too intimate and Steve didn’t do intimacy. But maybe…

He spits down on your face, his saliva landing on your cheek as you cringe. Fuck intimacy, Steve thinks, using his hand to smear his spit all over your face, till it’s shining with a mixture of both your bodily fluids. So messy yet so pretty…

“N-Never been kissed before!” you blurt out once more all of a sudden, as if you’ve read his mind. Your eyes plead up at him, a tiny bit of hope in your eyes as if you truly believe he’ll show you empathy and spare you, “P-Please, Sir. I’ve never been kissed, a-and I want it to be special…”

How cute. You were worried about him spoiling your first kiss as if he hadn’t just finger-fucked you to two orgasms in the span five minutes. Amused, he brings his thumb up to your mouth, stroking your pouty bottom lip gently.

“You don’t let the boys at your college kiss you?” He asks, again not fully understanding why he’s even bothering to talk to you, but he figures it’s simply because he finds it amusing.

“N-No, Captain.”

“Why not?”

“I’m t-too shy, and they’re not… they’re not interested in me,” you sound so shaky, peering up at him as if you expect him to just get off you now you’ve told him your sob story about wanting to save your first kiss to be something special.

Steve snorts. And just how fucking naïve could you be? You’re fucking delectable, he bets the lowlifes at your college creamed their pants thinking about you. Suddenly, he bristles at the thought of sending you back tomorrow, back to the dumb idiots you went to college with. But he shakes the thought out of his mind to focus solely on you.

“There’s nothing special about kissing,” he tells you, “Love, intimacy, saving yourself for that special someone – none of that’s real. The sooner you realise that, the better.”

He kisses you, cupping your cheeks with his hands so that you don’t move your face aside. At first, he’s rough, unforgiving, pressing his tongue into your mouth because you taste so sweet and he needs to get more. And then he slows down, registers your soft, quivering lips on his, how rigid they are as you don’t kiss him back. He snorts inwardly, not caring in the least. He’d kiss you all he wanted – he doesn’t care if you don’t respond.

Steve sighs into your mouth, so tuned in to your senses that he feels your breath hitch, and a tiny squeak sounds past your lips and straight into his. His thumbs, seemingly moving off their own accord, stroke your cheekbones, and he feels your body instinctively relax underneath his – probably because that’s the first and only gentle gesture you’ve felt from him this whole night.

Slowly, he sucks your bottom lip almost sweetly, as if lulling you into a false sense of security. You’re still too scared or shy to kiss him back, but that doesn’t make the kiss any less enjoyable for him. His tongue plays with yours coaxingly, because he can’t remember the last time he kissed a girl and liked it so much. And then he feels you give a tiny little kitten lick, as if you’re testing the waters as you move your tongue shyly against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick.

He pulls away slightly to watch your face, amused when he sees your eyes scrunched shut and your lips slightly pursed, as if awaiting another kiss. And that’s what he does, giving you one, two, three quick pecks that have you inhaling deeply, and your eyes open cautiously. But they flutter shut almost immediately when they find him staring back at you.

Steve goes in for another kiss, as if one wasn’t enough because suddenly it’s like he’s parched, and his raging hard on would have to wait a second longer. His dick is as hard as a metal rod, resting against your bare stomach as he makes out with you. One of his hands reach down to cup your breast, and he can feel your nipple, hard as glass, poke against his palm even through the material of the bra. You squeak into his mouth again, as if him touching and playing with your breast is making your body invertedly respond to him.

He can definitely feel you kissing him back now, even though it’s shy and periodic… Your tongue moving slowly against his for a few seconds before you remember you’re not supposed to be enjoying this and you freeze. And then you start again, your tongue timidly stroking against his once more. Then you stop again. Repeat. It makes him smirk against your lips, feeling a rumbling in his chest like he wants to chuckle in amusement.

He pulls away, examining how breathless and cute you look. And you gaze up at him with glassy, wet eyes, those perfect, pouty lips still slightly puckered, as if you’re asking for more. But he continues to just drink in every detail of your face and how you look a mix of scared and curious, afraid and confused.

“W-Was I bad?” you breathe, and your innocent face is begging for reassurance. He knows because little girls like you always want reassurance, are always seeking out the approval of men like him. And a part of him wants to tell you no, no you weren’t bad at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed kissing you. But he keeps his mouth shut, because it wasn’t his job to reassure you. And maybe he wants you to be a bit insecure; you’d work harder in pleasing him if you thought he didn’t like your kiss.

He’s still cupping your breast with one hand, and he suddenly feels a wave of irritation at the lacy material of your bra. Quick as a wink, he tears your bra apart, the two ripped pieces now lying on either side of you. A hungry growl emanates from him, and he feels like an animal, he really just wants to suck on your tits but his dick is growing impatient, and you’d probably pass out from fear and dread if he stretched this out any longer.

He reaches to grab a condom from where he stashes them in his bedside drawer. Protection was a must for him – who knew what kinds of diseases all these modern, promiscuous girls were carrying? And yet, his hand falters before he draws back completely, his mind clouding with thoughts of how sexy your soft pussy would feel around his dick if he fucked you raw. Yes. He had to fuck you raw, feel your tight virgin pussy around him as he ruined it. He deserved as much.

Instead, Steve grabs the lube once more, acutely aware of you watching him with eyes round as saucers as he squirts a generous amount of it on his dick. He looks back at you, lying deathly still underneath him, looking like you’ve seen a ghost. He wonders if your pussy’s still tingling from the two orgasms he’s just given you, and he absentmindedly pumps his dick at the thought. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before in his life, his dick so hard he feels he’ll blow his load right there and then.

He lines his cock up against your entrance, his hands holding your silky soft thighs apart. A part of him wishes you’d fight back just one more time, just so he could exert his dominance over you once more, just so it would highlight how weak and small you are. But you lay there, quivering in fear, definitely too scared to fight back, or too distracted by his dick he glides it up and down your wet slit in anticipation.

Suddenly, you grab his arm as if to stop him, and Steve narrows his eyes.

“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.

“Yes.”

You whimper, your grip on his arm tightening as another tear trickles down your cheek, and you look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Please, Captain, p-please could you… could you make it hurt less? Please?” You beg him so prettily, and he can’t help but focus on how your tears get caught in your lashes, and how you sniffle like a baby. “Please, I’m sc-scared, I– maybe if you were slow–?”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Steve says briskly, feeling impatient beyond belief, and yet a part of him wants to brush and collect your tears. “In fact, if I go in slowly, it’ll hurt more.” He wonders if he should say more, say anything at all to ease your discomfort. But he reasons that that’s not his job – he’s not a lovesick boyfriend who needs to worry about your feelings. This is for him. He deserves this.

You start crying softly once more, your whole body shaking. Steve tries to ignore it, focusing on your cunt instead. His dick is twitching with excitement, the tip an angry red as he brings it up against your fuckhole. He grits his teeth and pushes in, but he can’t. You’re too tight – and he’s way too big. He sighs in frustration.

“Stop being so tense.” He orders you, pouring another decent amount of lube all over his cock as well as your entrance. He’d scissored you open with three of his fingers, but it had been an extremely tight fit. And three of his fingers didn’t compare to the girth and thickness of his dick – not even the tip of it. He frowns down at you, “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”

A panicked look flits over your face as you look down at his dick, and he knows you’re intimidated by his size. But then you take a deep breath, close your eyes and he feels your body get less tense underneath him. He smirks.

He grabs his cock by the base and lines it up against your hole once more. You flinch away from him, your innocent, puppy dog eyes blinking up at him. He doesn’t give a fuck though, and with a lot more determination this time, he grits his teeth and forces his way inside you.

Your scream is earth-shattering. But it’s music to his ears.          

“NO, PLEASE, NO, TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT! TOO BIG!”

You thrash violently underneath him, limbs flailing before he pins them down. But for a handful of seconds, he can’t even really focus on you. Not when he’s finally basking in the glory of being inside your tight little snatch, and it feels almost euphoric. You feel so sexy around him, so hot and velvety, squeezing the life out of his fat cock. Well, he’s only got a bit more than his tip inside you, but it already feels fucking heavenly.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, trying to get a grip and not get too lost in the feeling of your gorgeous fucking pussy. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and yet he feels like his balls are about to blow with how fucking hot it feels being inside you like this.

“It hurts! T-Take it out, Captain! Please!” Your tiny hand grabs his forearm again, lips puckered so sweetly, even the grimace on your face looks beautiful. You’re beautiful when you’re in pain, and he’s addicted to the sight of it. For a split second, he imagines it’s his wedding night, and you’re his beautiful bride – sweet, innocent, beautiful bride and he’s just popped your cherry and now you’re his forever.

The thought makes him shudder, and he quickly pulls out (not that there’s much to pull out, since only his tip had entered you. You were crying and screaming just from being penetrated by only his tip, and this makes Steve smug, despite everything).

You’ve barely caught your breath when he drives his dick back inside you, and this time he really forces it in. Now that he’s got a taste of your warmth, he wants to be completely enveloped in it. His hands grab your hips tightly, forcing his fat cock inside you inch by inch. He doesn’t care if it takes all night, he was going to fully penetrate you if it was the last thing he did.

“Shhh, shut up and take it,” he orders you as you scream and protest. If any other one of his girls had screamed bloody murder the way you were doing right now, he would’ve smacked them unconscious. Not you though, and he doesn’t know why that is. “God fucking dammit, how is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“Y-You’re too big,” you answer, shaking your head over and over again, “th-this… this isn’t normal, Captain, y-you won’t fit! Please stop, something’s gonna break, I-I’m scared, I–”

He wants to break your pussy. He wants to break you.

“Shut up,” he snarls, before a thought occurs to him. Out of nowhere, he kisses you once more. Silencing your protests as his tongue works against yours, and he finds that he was already missing kissing you. God, you felt so good. Your warm, sexy lips against his and your warm, sexy pussy gripping his dick. God, fuck… So this is what great sex was, huh? Maybe he’d been fucking the wrong girls this whole time. Maybe he should’ve sought you out from the beginning – or someone like you. Someone young, innocent, unexperienced, delicate, fragile, a cry-baby. Just the complete opposite of him.

Despite everything, you kiss him back once more. Steve bets it’s because your girlish mind is trying to convince him (and yourself) that you’re a good kisser. He makes a mental note never to give you this reassurance – that way you’d just keep kissing him as if you had something to prove. Or at least that was the hope. Nevertheless, the kissing distracts you enough for him to still inside you (he’d only gotten less than a quarter of his huge dick in) and then he pulls out.

The third time he penetrates you, he does it with more force than ever before. And he bites your lip hard, grunting against you till he can taste your blood. That’s when he finally pushes more than halfway inside you, and he hears something rip from within. And you scream, you scream so fucking loudly and straight into his mouth, but he continues to kiss you, basking in the feeling of being inside you properly now. His dick feels so constricted inside your tight walls, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.

He breaks the kiss to look down into your eyes, and savour your reaction to being impaled by him, to being filled up by only half his length. But your head lolls to the side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You’ve passed out.

“What a fucking baby,” Steve hisses, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. “Can’t even take daddy’s dick inside this tight little snatch of yours without passing out, can you?” Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to pull out, he’s so obsessed with how good your pulsating pussy feels around his dick. But he knows he needs to draw back so he can thrust back in even deeper. He’s only got half his dick inside you now, but he’s determined to get in balls deep before the night is over.

“Wake the fuck up!” he commands, wanting you alert as he defiles you. He slaps your cheek lightly several times, to no avail. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water on his side table. He dips his fingers into the liquid before sprinkling the water over your face. He slaps your cheek again, harder this time, and it turns him on when he hits you, taps into his darkest, most masochistic desires that he keeps under wraps from even himself.

It's only when he pulls out and slams back into you that you suddenly rouse, and it takes you a nanosecond to start screaming again, panicking and flailing underneath him once more. But he’s not having it this time, and quickly plasters his palm over your mouth to silence you.

“Tell me... how does daddy’s dick feel?” He asks you darkly, and he can sense the sadistic smile on his face fuelled by the sheer power he has over you right now. “And I’ll backhand the fuck out of you if you start screaming again, so don’t even try it.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and focuses on pushing more into you, and you pant underneath him, silently sobbing and cringing in pain. And yet you swallow and look up at him bravely.

“I-It hurts!”

“Address me properly.”

“C-Captain, it hurts!”

He narrows his eyes, “No. I asked you how does daddy’s dick feel?”

Your jaw drops open, and it looks like you’ve momentarily forgotten that he’s currently trying to impale you with his huge dick. Your face has the audacity to look mortified, and he wonders how innocent you truly are.

“I can’t… I can’t call you… That’s wrong!” you sputter, looking almost – dare Steve think it – cute. With your wide eyes and indignant gaze and delicious pouty lips in the shape of an o. You seem to blurt out your next words without even thinking: “Y-You’re not my dad!”

Steve barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, but he straightens his face almost immediately, reaching up to grip your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Faced with your horror-struck reaction to calling him daddy, he now wants you to address him as that and nothing else.

“Listen, sweetheart. You may have noticed by now that you don’t get much of a say in what happens to you tonight,” he licks up your jawline before his lips brush against your mouth, and he speaks in a whisper, “Now answer my question. And address me properly. Or else.”

You look mortified, scrunching your eyes shut as you breath rapidly in and out. “It… It hurts…daddy.”

Steve feels like he’ll bust a nut right there and then. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. You’re so small and shy, so tiny and naïve and scared like a baby, and now you’re calling him daddy in that sexy, shaky voice of yours. Goddamn, what a sexy little slut you were. And he’d take care of you tonight, just like any daddy would. Oh… damn right he’d be your daddy tonight. God fucking dammit, you were such a little slut for calling him that!

With a renewed, carnal type of lust, Steve grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. You yelp as he folds you in half like a goddamned pretzel. And the juxtaposition, the visual of your naked body underneath him still in his bloodied suit from the mission – God, it turns him on so much. He presses another kiss to your lips, guiding you into making out with him, wanting you to get obsessed with the idea of kissing him. And then he pulls away, and looks you right in the eye.

“Now you can scream.”

“Huh?”

He slams into you so fucking hard, he’s sure you see stars. And if you were screaming loudly before, it’s nothing compared to now. His entire floor is sound-proofed, but he’s sure the people above and below can hear you. He’s pushed himself far deeper into you, so deep that he senses something rip inside you again. And you’re crying, your little fists pounding against his chest, and yet Steve grits his teeth and mutters, “take it, just fucking take it,” pushing into you bit by bit, inch by inch, so determined to finally get his cock all the way inside you. Pulling out a bit, then pushing in some more while your tight walls try to push him out but he’s so much fucking stronger than you.

A deep rumble emanates past his lips when he finally – fucking finally – bottoms out inside you, and he leans down to press his forehead over yours so he can savour the moment. You were his, completely, irrevocably, undeniably his. You whimper and cry underneath him but it’s music to his ears, your sweet reaction to him popping your cherry, completely snatching away your virginity and possessing it as his forever. He looks down to where you two meet, sees your pussy stretched out completely around his girthy dick, and it makes him want to spontaneously combust.

“You’re mine.” Steve breathes against your lips, and for the second time tonight, the image of you as his little bride flits through his mind. Yes, you’d make a very fitting bride for him. Small and submissive and innocent. And he’d never taken marriage seriously before now but… well, how could he give you up? When he’d taken your virginity and made you his? How could he possibly send you back to wherever you’d come from? The mere thought fills him with vitriolic rage. No. You were to stay with Steve, and you’d be his bride. His wife. His. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You don’t argue this time, or even hesitate. He knows he’s broken you when you look up at him, dazed expression on your face. “I’m – I’m yours, daddy.”

Fuck. And you’d gone and called him daddy again without him even having to prompt you. Yes. That more than sealed your fate. You would be his now. His girl. His wife. He’d keep you locked up in his room forever, the same reward that he’d look forward to coming home to after every mission.

“How does it feel to have your baby pussy split open on my cock, sweetheart?” He presses kisses down the nape of your neck, excitement rippling through him at his impulsive decision to make you his wife. The thrill of finding a bride as cute as you makes him want to kiss you even more, and he nips at your neck before reaching your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times. All while you look up at him with glassy, wet eyes and a pitiful expression mixed with something else.

“Please,” you breathe quietly against his lips, and with sapped energy you manage to grab a fistful of his suit, pulling it to get his attention, “Please, make it hurt less. Please.”

Steve smirks, pulling out of you and preparing to slam back in. But he grows distracted by the sight of his cock, completely coated scarlet with your blood. Your virgin blood. The pillow under your ass is stained with drops of dark crimson too, and he’s never seen anything like it. Fuck. He’d really done a number on you, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even begun fucking you yet.

I deserve this, he thinks to himself.

He slams into you again, the gasp dying in your mouth when he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look down at where you two meet. Your eyes grow wider, your mouth dropping open as you shake your head in disbelief at the sight of your pussy so stretched out to accommodate his girth.

“What’re those conservative parents of yours gonna think when they find out their good little girl just got her pussy ripped apart by a man twice her age?”

You swallow and shake your head, “I–I…”

“Answer me!”

“They’d be d-d-disappointed!” You cry out, ripping your gaze away from the sight of his dick penetrating your formerly virgin pussy, instead looking up at him instead, your mouth looking so deliciously pouty.

Steve smiles wickedly, “It’s a good thing you’re not their little girl anymore, huh? You’re mine now, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Th-They like you! They’re fans of you… They wouldn’t like this at all! OH MY GOD!” You gasp, and he has to hold you down to keep you from sliding upwards from the power of his thrusts. You cry out once more, “W-Was supposed to – ah! – wait till I was married…”

The mention of marriage has Steve imagining you as his little bride once more. He already owned your body, mind and soul – but the marriage certificate would make sure he owned you under the eyes of the law too. His kept woman you’d be, fluttering around his apartment like a bird in a gilded cage. Or maybe he’d move you into one of the suburban properties he owned, where he could come home to you and relieve all his tension and worries. Yes. It would be perfect. He’d make all the arrangements tomorrow…

For now, he focuses back on fucking you silly. Pulling out all the way, he rams his dick straight back into your cunt, and you let out a sound that’s a mix between a squeak and a moan. He looks down at you curiously.

“You like that? You like daddy’s big dick?” He grabs your hands, squeezing them tightly.

“T-Too big!” Your eyes flutter shut as if you’re about to pass out again. “C-Captain, please slow down! H-Hurts so bad!”

Steve bristles. Hadn’t he explicitly told you to call him daddy? After all, he’d be your daddy now. You wouldn’t be your father’s property after tonight. No, you were Steve’s. He was your daddy, and he’d take care of you because you’d soon become his bride. But he wouldn’t have an insolent, insubordinate wife who couldn’t take instructions well. That wouldn’t do at all.

He grunts, letting go of your hands and wrapping his fingers around your throat instead. You squeal in protest but it lands on deaf ears. His other hand presses down over your mouth once more.

“Shut up!” He snaps, “Stop squealing like a little bitch. It hurts but you’re just going to have to take it. And you better start calling me daddy, or else I’ll drag you back downstairs and fuck you in front of everyone.” He only means it as a threat, but he knows by the way your breath hitches that you’re innocent enough to believe him.

He removes his hand from your lips and taps you roughly on your cheek, “Tell me you understand.”

You nod, receiving a harder tap on your cheek and a menacing look.

“I-I understand, daddy, I – oh – oh my!”

He thrusts into you with such force, he knows you’re seeing stars. And it’s subtle, but Steve catches it. He catches the shift in your expression, this unfamiliar spark in your eye as if you don’t know what’s happening with your body. But Steve knows. Your body is finally starting to respond to his cruel ministrations – just like he knew you would. You were an innocent little baby but you were also a horny little slut who was enjoying getting fucked by a man like him.

“It’s starting to feel good, huh?” Steve whispers against your lips, imagining the different ways he’d take you for the rest of the night. Of course, you’d probably pass out again once he was done with this first round. But after that? Maybe he’d put you on top of him, bounce you up and down on his cock and get in even deeper that way. Or he’d make you suck his cock, or maybe he’d manhandle you till you were on his face, rubbing that sweet, gorgeous little baby cunt on his –

“I-I don’t understand!” You cry, and he feels you wiggle your hips subtly as if you’re trying to do it without him noticing, “Feels…feels…oh, oh god!” With abandon, your head lolls back and you rut your hips up against his dick, meeting his thrusts. Steve chuckles, a satisfied feeling spreading across his chest.

“All that crying and screaming, just for you to enjoy getting fucked by me,” Steve murmurs, brushing your hair off your face so he can gauge your expression better. You look so pitiful, biting your lip and looking up at him with wet eyes, humping up against his dick and your eyes reflecting the confusion you felt. “But don’t worry, all little girls like you love getting fucked by their daddy. It’s only natural, sweetheart.”

“D-Daddy, please,” you pant, and now your hands come up to grip a fistful of his suit, and he knows that you don’t even understand the pleasure you’re slowly starting to feel. And you’re gripping his cock so tight as he rams in and out of you, building up a steady pace now. He knows he’s found your g-spot and he’s pounding against it, but you have no fucking clue and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.

“Look at you, humping your baby pussy up against daddy’s dick,” Steve shakes his head as if he’s reprimanding you. He spits down on your face, wanting you even messier. His hand leaves your throat as he shoves two of his fingers past your lips, spreading them open and spitting again. His saliva lands on your tongue, “Swallow it, you nasty fucking slut. I knew I’d make you my little slut before the night was through. I said fucking swallow it. That’s right. Good girl.”

“Ah, ah, ah– tingles… I – daddy! P-Please, I don’t know what’s – AH!”

 Your breathless moans and nonsensical garbles are like music to his ears, but nothing compares to the way you clamp down on his cock when you suddenly squirt around it. The way you squeak and clutch him tightly, and he fucks you through your orgasm. Your very first orgasm while getting fucked, and it’s so fucking sexy the way your tight walls flutter around him. God, he could get used to this feeling – buried deep inside your wet, tight snatch every single night from here on out.

“Did daddy make you feel good?” He breathes, hips moving like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your pussy as he continues to fuck you.

You nod timidly, wiped out from your orgasm to say anything else. He smirks, watching your breasts bounce up and down as he fucks the living daylights out of you and you just lie there beneath him and take it. As if a part of you had understood that this was to be your job from here on out – his little fuckdoll, his little prize after God knows how many listless years of saving the world, saving people who he didn’t give a flying fuck about.

He’d won countless medals of honour, rewarding him for his bravery in serving his country, in saving his people. But you were his true prize, with your tight cunt that was his and his only. And how jealous every other man would be! He knew they already envied his physique, his fame, his authority. Now all those assholes would have another reason to envy him – because his little bride was the most innocent, most vulnerable, most beautiful girl they’d ever lay their eyes on. And it would be his bed in which you’d be, night after night, waiting with spread legs for him to fuck you.

Of course, he’d fuck other women if he so wanted to. Steve didn’t believe in love or monogamy. He believed in ownership, though. And he owned you, every part of you from your cunt to your soul. You wouldn’t even look at another man ever again, or else Steve would have you killed. And the thought of you with another man is what incenses him even more.

With a low growl, he pulls out of you. Your eyes shoot open, your mouth pausing mid-moan to look up at him desperately. Your cunt shamelessly humps the air, and he can’t believe what a little harlot you’ve turned into after your first taste of sex. He looks down at his blood-covered dick, grabbing it by the base. He lays his fat cock on your stomach, painting your smooth skin scarlet with your own virginal blood. The sight turns him on even more, and with another growl, he puts your legs down and flips you over on your stomach.

He grabs your ankle, dragging you to the foot of the bed while you squeak in protest and confusion. He gets off the bed, standing up to his full height as you cower beneath him, looking back at him over your shoulder warily, a trail of blood on the sheets from where he’d dragged you.

“Hands and knees,” he orders, “and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.”

This time, you do obey pretty quickly. Mustering up whatever energy you have left, you shakily get on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips just in time, keeping you upright before your body has a chance to collapse. Your legs are shaking and he knows your body can’t take much more. He doesn’t care, because he owns your body and you’ll take what he gives you.

“Nice ass,” he smirks, squeezing and kneading your ass cheeks liberally before giving your ass a hard smack that has your knees buckling. He hoists you back up by your hips, “Thank me for the compliment, sweetheart.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You answer almost at once, and Steve grins wolfishly. He’s broken you. He bets you’d do just about anything to please him now. He bets you’ve forgotten about your life back home, and all your tiny mind can think about now is your daddy and his big cock.

With a grunt, Steve pistons his fat cock inside you once more. And god, from this angle, with your gorgeous, perky ass right in his fucking face, he feels like he’s going to blow his load any second. You start moaning again, rocking your hips backwards, garbling “please” and “daddy” and other nonsense. Your ass bounces with each thrust, and Steve can’t help but slap it brutally hard, over and over again, wanting you even more bruised and bloody than you already are right now.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he asks, slapping and pinching your ass while he watches his dick disappear inside your sexy cunt over and over again, “you tried to act all innocent and cute, telling me you had fucking homework to do tonight, fuck!” He lifts your hips up off the bed to get a better angle, till he’s holding your entire lower body up in the air.  It gives him better leverage, since he’s so tall, and he fucks you on his dick like you were nothing more than a fleshlight.

“I – ah, daddy! – I d-do have h-h-homework – OH MY GOD!”

It just gets Steve even harder, hearing you be so innocent despite being held up and fucked like a dog. You’ve got your elbows propped on the mattress to keep you up, your legs flailing helplessly as he holds your hips in the air, ramming you repeatedly with his fat cock till he knows you’re seeing stars.

“Forget about your fucking homework from now on,” he spits out, grabbing your ass lewdly and jiggling it, fascinated by how it bounces so cutely. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that college of yours.”

“Wh-What?”

He doesn’t answer, and the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, the carnal sound of Steve staking his claim on you. With all his other rewards, he’d be done in about fifteen minutes. You, he’d have you all night if he could. Well, he can – he’s built like a fucking tank with stamina for days. You, on the other hand, keep looking like you’re going to pass out and he’s pretty sure he’s done some type of damage to your pussy. He’d have SHIELD’s physician check you tomorrow.

He throws you back down on the bed, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath before he’s on top of you, flipping you on your back and urgently pressing his lips to yours. Much to his smugness, this time you respond as if it’s muscle memory, kissing him back as best as you can. And for a person who’s just learnt how to kiss, you sure were extremely desperate for it. You keep kissing him even when he enters back into you for the third time, fucking you on your back and this time you wrap your arms and legs around him like a goddamned koala bear, your kisses growing more fervent till Steve pulls away and chuckles against your lips.

“You like kissing me?” He finds himself asking you, holding you in place beneath him as he fucks you hard, but his one hand comes up to grip your chin so you don’t look away, “be honest, baby. You like kissing daddy?”

Your eyes widen in fear at the direct question, and he watches the panic on your face. But then your features contort in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you, and you nod desperately, surging up to kiss him again but he pushes you back down.

“Use your words.”

“Ah, y-yes, I do, okay!? I like it! P-Please!”

You start doing that thing again, humping pathetically up into him as if to meet his thrusts. And he wonders if you realise how easy he’s truly going on you. He reckons he’s using about five percent of his power right now as he rams into you repeatedly. Any more than that and he’s sure he’d shatter your pelvis or cause permanent damage.

“Kiss me, then.” Steve says, not knowing why he sounds so gentle. He probably had something stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t dwell over it because, like a good little girl, you obey him. Your needy lips, your desperate tongue poking against his in a perfect kiss. He groans into your mouth, his thrusts going sloppy as your cunt squeezes around him because you’re so turned on by him kissing you.

“Am I… A-Am I doing this right, daddy?” You breathe, batting those fucking sexy, innocent eyes up at him.

Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”

You’re more than fine, of course – but he doesn’t need you knowing that. He needs you to be as insecure as possible. It made you even hotter, the look of self-doubt that you have on your face right now. He’s violated your body, he’s still violating your body, and yet all you seem to be focusing on is the fact that he thinks your kissing is “fine.” Not good, not great… but fine.

You kiss him once more, even more desperately this time, as if you’re trying to prove something. Steve relishes how easy it is to play with your mind, how naïve you are. How much he’ll enjoy playing with you when he makes you his wife. He continues pistoning his dick inside you as he lets his mind wander.

All the others would be so fucking jealous of him – even Bucky, who had a girl already but Bucky’s girl was nothing compared to you. He’d drag you around the whole building, the whole headquarters, the whole compound, showing you off like a shiny, new toy. That’s what you were – his very own toy.

He’d take you into meetings with him, make you sit on his lap and play with you in front of everyone. And he’d chop the dick off of anyone who looked at you in a way he didn’t like. He’d make you wear pretty dresses, make you look like a cute little housewife, train you to answer his every command. Fuck yeah, you’d be his reward. He deserved you, after all he had sacrificed for his country, for the world.

“D-Daddy, I’m feelin- tingly again!” you moan, your words shaky from how hard he’s fucking into you. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist and in return he clutches you harder, determined to make you squirt again before he had his own release.

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”

“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”

He swats your clit harshly, making you howl in what he knows is pleasure. His dick hammers in and out of you unforgivingly, and you’re such a fucking slut, humping up against him, crying for your release. And it’s such a far cry from how much you were resisting him at first, he can’t believe what a little slut he’s reduced you to in such little time.

“Stupid girl, can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he mocks, pinching your clit meanly, bullying it as he rubs it fiercely. Till you’re thrashing underneath him, so desperate to cum that you don’t even care that your body is betraying you. “Tell me you’re a stupid little girl!”

“Oh fuck! I’m a – a – a stupid little girl!”

He can see the remnants of your tears stained to your cheeks, and he feels a carnal level of possession within him. With a growl, he lewdly licks the side of your face, claiming his territory, tasting your salty tears. Roughly, he tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side and biting down on your neck. So hard that he draws blood, and then he licks that up too. God, what a little slut you were – a slut disguised as an angel and you were making him act like a motherfucking animal.

And now the side of your neck sported his bite mark, your porcelain perfect skin marred by his branding of you. And this was just the beginning – Steve already knows that he plans to mark you in many different ways. Tomorrow, he’d get one of the agents to bring over a tattoo artist to tattoo his initials somewhere on your body. Maybe right above your baby cunt, just so you would always remember who you belonged to. He smirks, and wonders what your conservative parents would think of that.

“What would your parents think now, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it over his shoulder for a better angle. And you’re so pliable, so easily going along with whatever he’s doing to you like a perfect little doll. “What would they think of their perfect little girl getting fucked by Captain America like it’s her fucking job?”

You panic, as if the mention of your parents is a reminder of how wrong this all is for you – not that Steve gives a fuck. Biting your lip to keep from moaning at all the sensations you’re feeling, you shake your head. Only for him to slap you not so lightly on the cheek.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

“They’d – ah – they’d hate this, they’d be upset, they’d – OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream out all of a sudden, your pussy walls gripping him like a vice, “O-Oh, I’m feelin– I gotta–”

“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.

But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. Babies like you couldn’t hold orgasms for shit. And you cum, crying for him and gripping him tightly, and Steve feels like he’s going to lose it with how sexy it feels. It feels like your cunt is trying to swallow him up, crying for his seed as it pulsates around his fat cock that continues to move in and out.

“Bad girl,” Steve chastises, giving you another not-so-gentle slap on the cheek because you look like you’re about to faint again. He jostles you with the forces of his dick, still ramming in and out of you at lightning speed. “You do things without permission a lot at home?”

You have the audacity to, despite everything, look indignant: “N-No, never, I never–”

“Then what made you think you could cum without your daddy’s permission?”

Your lips purse as if you’re about to cry, and you blink up at him so goddamned innocent. Steve’s honestly surprised he’s still going, surprised he hasn’t busted a fucking nut with how goddamned cute and sexy you are.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I couldn’t – ah! – I had to, I–I–”

“Give me another one,” he orders you darkly.

“Wh-What–”

“You heard me. Cum for daddy again. Since you like doing it so much.”

Frantically, you shake your head, “C-Can’t! Too much, daddy, it’s too much– O-O-HHH GOD!”

He reaches down to strum your clit before a dark thought crosses his mind. His fingers slip lower, gathering the wetness of your pussy along the way. Lower, between the cleft of your ass cheeks. He can’t resist giving one of your perky cheeks a hard smack, before going straight for your puckered hole. He circles it with his thumb and your body stiffens in shock and horror.

“N-No, daddy, no please, that’s wrong, that’s–”

Steve shoves his finger in your tight, virgin asshole. He hadn’t been planning on defiling that third hole tonight, but oh well. And it’s even tighter than your pussy, and you clench against his digit like a fucking whore because he knows you like it. You like your daddy’s finger up there. His fucked up little wife-to-be… God, you were so perfect for him.

 With his fat cock, Steve fucks your pussy and at the same time, his huge finger fucks your tiny ass. Pumping in and out of your tiny hole while you cry and yet once more you slowly begin humping up against him. As if the depravity of it all turned you on even more – which he knew it did.

Your hand tugs at his bicep, making him shift his gaze back up to you.

“It’s happening again, daddy, it’s– d-don’t stop, I–”

Steve licks his lips, “Say you’ll marry me.”

Your eyes widen the most they have all night, “Wh-What?!”

“Say it!” He orders, “Say it or else I’ll fucking stop and leave you hanging. Say you’ll marry me, be my wife and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

“N-No, I–”

He stills his hips, only for you to shake your head and grip his arm harder in desperation, humping up against him hopelessly.

“Say it. Say you’re daddy’s little bride. Fucking say it.”

“I-I’m daddy’s little bride, okay? I’ll do it, daddy, I’ll marry you, I – OH FUCK, PLEASE – I’ll do whatever you say, I, just please, I–” You’ve lost it, completely lost it as new tears swell from your eyes and you beg him as if you have no shame at all. And Steve feels all the pride and smugness in the world as he resumes fucking you, knowing he won’t last any longer after this carnal display of submission from you.

“Cum.” He orders you, “right now, sweetheart, do what I say and cum for daddy.”

You squirt so violently around his cock, that your whole body shakes and shudders, you’re so overwhelmed by pleasure. Toes curled and tears streaking your face, you hold him so tightly that he’s surprised by your strength, and you keep moaning his name, you keep moaning “daddy” over and over again as if he got his agents to reprogramme your brain and it’s all you know how to say now.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he mutters lowly, “squeeze that pretty little princess cunt around daddy’s dick. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy,” your meek response, barely audible by how quietly you say it, is not something he expected, and it goes straight to his dick. Not you, not his little bride, thanking him for deflowering you in the most brutal way possible? Fuck, he’d broken you. You’d be licking the palm of his hand by tomorrow; he just knew it.

The thought makes him shudder, his dick twitches and then he unloads inside you. Spurt after spurt unloaded straight into your pussy, and it’s such a satisfying feeling, pumping you full of his seed. Filling you the fuck up, and he’s glad he didn’t use the fucking condom. And there’s so much of his cum, because of the serum of course, so much that it doesn’t even fit inside you. It pours out of you and you watch with wide eyes before letting out a soft cry.

“I’m not… I’m not protected, I don’t take birth control, I–I…” Your voice trails off, too weak to voice any more protestations as Steve continues to empty himself inside you, your words having no effect on him whatsoever.

“Good. You’d be lucky to carry my child.” Steve informs you, his cock already thickening again at the thought of him knocking you up. He’d never had an interest in having children before now, but fucking a whole family into you seems like the hottest fucking thing he could do right now. Captain America: the family man. It made sense for his image.

Your protests fall on deaf ears, and he remains inside you, till he’s finally emptied out and your poor, raw pussy is overflowing with his cum. But he stays on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he watches you underneath him. Your chest rising and falling as you breathe, and you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but lean down to kiss you again. Once, twice, three times. He frowns when you don’t kiss him back, drawing back to take another look at you.

Your eyes have fluttered shut. Your body couldn’t take it. You’ve passed out once more.

Steve smirks, feeling himself hardening up again inside you. He had absolutely no qualms with fucking you back to consciousness again.

***

It’s gone past midnight when Steve hears a knock on his door. He calls for them to come in, and two SHIELD agents appear in his doorway. The same two who always come to take away his rewards after he’s done with them.

The female agent’s jaw twitches at the sight. Steve on the bed, having changed and washed up with a quick shower. And you’re next to him, passed out on the bloodied sheets. Steve reckons you look beautiful, like you’re sleeping.

“Would you like for us to take her away, Captain?” The male agent asks.

“No. She will stay with me. Contact her family and let them know, make them pack a bag for her and make sure it arrives here by tomorrow.”

The male agent nods, but the female – it’s always the damned females, Steve scorns – she hesitates.

“Captain, she looks like she’s in bad shape. Maybe–”

“That will be all.” Steve interrupts, “you can leave now.”

They do, and Steve turns his attentions back to you – his little girl, as you begin to stir.

“Shhh,” he orders, when you open your mouth to speak. Your eyes look bleary, you look confused, wondering whether all this was a dream or not. Steve’s in no mood to indulge you, and yet he presses his thumb past your lips. And fuck, it goes straight to his dick when you readily accept it, sucking his thumb like a baby as you blink up at him.

His beautiful, broken little bride.

“Go back to sleep.” Steve tells you, “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for us. You need all the rest you can get.”

Yes, tomorrow. When he’d parade you around his teammates as Captain America’s little bride. It would be perfect. His forever reward.

Tony had his alcohol, Sam had his parties, Bruce had his research and Bucky had some girl. But Steve? Steve had drawn the best cards out of all of them. Because he had you. Your submission, your devotion. You.

He deserved this.

AKFSLA THE END!! Steve's inner monologue was unhinged af. I know! Please, please let me know what you think!!! It would mean the world, please do reblog and leave feedback!!! I have been writing this for around two weeks and would love to know what you think!!! As usual, thanks so much for reading my work and supporting me!!! I love you guys!! SORRY IF IT SUCKED ASDAGNL.

ALSO please forgive me if i got anything wrong about shield or hydra or any of that. like i literally am not an expert asnglagl okaybye!!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

[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.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans smut #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #steve rogers #nomad steve rogers #nomad steve #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #nomad steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark chris evans #dark! steve rogers x reader #dark fic #fanfiction #steve rogers fic #chris evans fic #chxrrys fics!

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Never say “no” to your husband | Steve Rogers

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

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

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 557

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

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

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

Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

“Come on. Don’t be like that, honey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers one shot #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark Steve rogers smut #dark!steve Rogers smut #dark!steve x reader smut #dark!steve Rogers x reader smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem reader smut #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #captain america smut #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #steve x fem reader #steve x reader smut #steve x female reader #steve x reader

[giorno-plays-piano]

Hold On To Me

Pairing: mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: home intrusion, hostage situation, noncon, Stockholm Syndrome, smut.

Words: 3.9k

Summary: Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.

P.S. I rewatched The Hostage again (when I did it for the first time, this was the result), and here we are.

____________

Staring at a little black Ikea table as if your life depends on it, you sit, your body aching from being in one position for too long, but you can't move. He's watching you. It seems he doesn't even blink, his eyes on you since the moment he pushed you into your room and locked the door behind him. He's so close you can hear him breathing.

You know this look. You're not that young and innocent to be unable to recognize interest in man's eyes. It both scares and - unfortunately - makes you a little flushed, and you berate yourself for the latter because this isn't the right way to react to a man who broke into your house and took your family hostage. God knows what's happening to your stepfather right now: the man wouldn't be able to protect himself even if he was inside a tank, and his enemy attacked him with a plastic knife. You're as much worried about your little brother. He was always a bit of a brat, but the second you realized he was in danger, you felt so overprotective over him you covered his body with yours like you were a shield.

Your brother is in his room now, being watched by the youngest guy in the gang, the one who looked the most reluctant when their leader decided to take hostages. Your brother must be safe. The other kid won't hurt him, you don't think.

You, on the other hand, are stuck with Steve. From the moment you saw him move and heard him talk, you realized he was running the show behind the curtains. He's dangerous. The third guy, the one who claims to be the leader, is impulsive, angry, shouting and kicking things, sweating like a sinner in church because of the police cars surrounding the house, but Steve is calm and collected. He smiles with his perfectly white teeth and talks to the boys as if he's relaxing in a bar after work, not in the middle of armed robbery.

He's really, really pretty. Steve has perfectly blond hair and proper facial features like a slightly chiseled jaw, full lips, and that sort of blue eyes that make girls swoon over him the moment they see him. He's perfectly tall, well-built, with wide shoulders and strong, muscular arms and legs: he look like he belongs in those Armani commercials or, perhaps, on the catwalk, but not with the kind of guys your mother warned you about. How did he end up on the darkside? What made him so good at using a gun? He didn't fire it even once yet, but you see it from the way he handles it he knows too well what to do with it. It makes you anxious, thinking that he might point his gun at you and then pull the trigger.

Except he won't. Or, it's rather unlikely. Not when he looks at you like this, always moving so close to you he steals a touch whenever he can as if he is unable to help himself. Besides, Steve is kind to you: he gave you water when you asked and loosened the rope tied too tightly around your wrists; he brought you a pillow so you could rest against it, not the cold wall, and shushed you gently when you cried, saying he wouldn't let anything happen to you or your little brother. You don't know how much of his promises are true, but you think him unlikely to harm a child. He doesn't seem the type.

Your poor little boy. He's only a kid, all alone in his room, forced to face one of his kidnappers as he waits for the police to finally make a move. Since you don't hear him crying - your room is just below his - you think he does his absolute best to hold on, to keep calm and not irritate his unwilling jailer even though he's frightened to death. He doesn't deserve to be caught up in this mess. If only they agreed to let him go... Not that anyone would listen to your pleas, though. He's a valuable hostage, just like you. As long as the gang has you, police won't make a move, you're pretty sure.

But maybe you can still help your brother. Ease his worry a little, give him a bit of hope. That is, if you play your cards right and press the right buttons of your handsome, terrifying warden.

"May I bring some food to my brother, please?" You whisper, gathering all your courage to turn your head to face Steve, look him straight in the eyes. "He must be so hungry."

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.

He's not a guy winning girls over with his looks. Steve is a deviant, an outcast. His face can't buy him what he wants, and that's why he's here, in your house, holding your family hostage.

Maybe, just maybe, you can use it to your advantage.

"Can you do me a favor, please?" Your whisper is barely audible. "Can you take me to my brother so I could feed him? If you want, you can tie my legs so I won't run."

Not that you would, anyway. You know perfectly well you can't outrun this guy even if your life depends on it, literally. Overpowering him is even more unlikely unless his muscles are just cotton stuffed in his clothes, which is a ridiculous suggestion.

His eyes light up at the word favor. "Happy to oblige," he muses, and your heart starts beating wildly before he continues, "but how will you return my favor?"

You are puzzled. You haven't thought this far. Dumbly, you thought he'd just say yes. It's a small favor, really. He knew you wouldn't give him any trouble, so it was just quickly checking up on your scared to death brother. Why would he want something from you in return when you couldn't as much as move without his permission?

But of course, he would.

"Anything," you blurt out hurriedly as if the words burn your tongue before you realize what you are actually saying.

Steve laughs with delight, his features softening.

"You should work on your negotiation skills," he declares with a wide smile as you tremble, understanding what you just offered. "You shouldn't give up your everything because people will take anything there is to take. Choose just one thing at a time, and choose carefully."

Suddenly, he gets close, and you immediately avert your eyes to the floor, unable to keep his gaze, trembling.

He nuzzles your cheek affectionately as his knife works through the rope around your wrists, and you pray he isn't going to stab you because you really know nothing and all judgements you made of him might be false. "But I'll be nice and choose just one thing for you. You'll feed your brother, and then I'll feed you, alright?"

You blink, your eyes on your warden again. Feed you? He wants to give you food?

Okay, it sounds strange. But who cares when you can finally see your brother? You'd say yes even if he proposed something improper because what else can you do? Steve has a gun, and even without it, you feel like he's a very dangerous person to oppose to.

So you say yes, and he takes your hand in his - so you won't be nervous, he says, but you know he wants to remind you who's in control - and then you two march to the kitchen in awkward silence where you grab whatever you can find. A cheeseburger from that little family café your family goes to every weekend, a pack of yogurt, a toast, a bottle of water... Steve even helps you to carry it all.

When he opens the door to your brother's room, you forget how to breathe for a second. The little boy is safe, sitting on his bed with his hands already untied, his eyes red from all the crying, and you rush to him, forgetting there's another man in the room. Or, well, a boy, because he's surely younger than you, perhaps still at school. His eyes are suspiciously red, too, as if he's scared and doesn't want anything but leave this place for good. For a moment you think it'd be better if he was guarding you, too, because then, perhaps, he'd agree to let you go if you helped him run away from the house without police catching him, and then things would be so much easier.

But the boy leaves in a hurry when Steve enters, and you remember who's a true ringleader. You can never escape on your own.

Your brother cries when you hug him, his little hands wrapped around you as he sniffle, and you rock back and forth to calm him down, whispering words of comfort, like everything's going to be alright even if you don't know where your stepdad is and what Steve is going to do to you if police doesn't do what he demands them to. You tell your brother he needs to eat because it's dinner time, and he nods, suddenly a well-behaved boy he'd never been, and takes a cheeseburger. You don't leave until he eats everything even if it's probably too much for a kid his size, but he says nothing, and you want him to be completely full: who knows when he'll eat again.

Then you give him a hug. It'll be fine, you say, and he does his best not to cry. Just do what they say, be a good boy, and everything's gonna be alright.

Steve smiles at the child when your brother doesn't want to let you go. "Listen to your sister," he says in a tone as if he's playing the role of a big brother, "and things will be fine. She'll be safe, too."

You don't think you'll be safe, not with someone like Steve, but perhaps your brother will be because his jailer is a kind kid, and he isn't cut out for violence. It's enough for you, even if your hair stands on end when Steve gently nudges you into your room, locking the door behind himself again. Once you two are completely alone, you start to panic, your breathing growing uneven, your hands shaking. What will he do to you? Will he rape you? Torture you? Kill you? If you could think rationally, you'd realize at least the last two are unlikely to happen, but you're a hostage, and he has the power to do any of these things. Even if you're unbound, you're helpless against him, a man so big and strong he'd overpower you in a matter of seconds.

So you don't try anything. You go sit down on the floor near your bed with a pillow resting between your back and the wall and then stretch out your arms for Steve to bind them again. He doesn't.

"You've been a good girl so far," he muses, sitting down in front of you, and then you see a couple of fruits in his hands that you somehow missed completely. "Now, let me feed you."

You still when he takes out his knife and peels a big red apple in a single strip before cutting it into even pieces. When he brings one close to you, you try to take it from his hands, but he tuts, tilting his head. "Open your mouth," he says simply instead, and your face grows hot.

Of course, there was a catch. There always is with guys like him.

But you say nothing and do as he says, and then he carefully pushes a piece of apple into your mouth. It's delicious, juicy, just your favorite sort of apples. You try to concentrate on the taste, not Steve's delighted expression when he watches you eat. Soon, he pushes one more piece past your lips, and then one more, and one more until there's nothing left of the apple. He's nowhere near finished, of course, because then starts to peel an orange. It's messier than the apple, but Steve doesn't seem to mind when he brings a slice close to your lips and lets you swallow it. His smile grows wider the closer you are to finishing the orange.

When you're finally done, your mouth full of acidic flavor, he suddenly clicks his tongue.

"My hand is all dirty from orange's juice," he says, eyeing you when you finally register what it is he asks you to do.

You bite down on your lips, eyes round as he brings his hand to your mouth.

"Lick it," he whispers so close to your face you can feel his breath on your skin.

You want to say no, to tell him he's out of his mind, but you don't. He's been kind to you so far, and it'd be stupid to provoke him. Even if he won't stop at this... maybe he'll stay kind, anyway. It's better than having him put a gun against your forehead for refusing to do what he says.

You open your mouth, taking his fingers in one at a time. They taste almost the same as the orange, sticky with juice, and you do your best to lick them clean, making shameless little noises when you suck at them. Steve doesn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he looks at you with a delightful expression on his face, like he's happy you're so good at whatever he asks you to do. He slips finger after finger inside your warm, wet mouth, playing with your tongue, smearing juice and saliva against it as he laughs with joy.

When you're done, he kisses you, sharing the sour taste of the fruit.

You knew it would come to this. It's no surprise, really, with the way he looks at you. But you still tremble and wish for all of it to end when Steve licks your tongue, sucking it into his mouth.

"Open your legs, baby," he commands in a sweet voice, and you shudder but do as he says anyway, and his lips part in a smile. "Yeah, like that."

His hand is already between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the clothes, and you freeze, blood pounding in your ears. It feels surreal, being in this situation, in the hands of someone who might make you cum or shoot you in the head instead. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, but your body is petrified, limbs turning to stone, your tongue heavy when you whisper. "Please, don't hurt me."

It's a plea, a cry, and tears slip down your cheeks as you look him in the face, his eyes dark and perceptive. Then, all of a sudden, he softens. "You're safe with me," he promises, his breath warming your face as his hand lands on your head, stroking you gently like a little girl, and you feel like you're going to cry from the intimacy of his touch. "You'll always be safe with me."

His other hand is already in your jeans, caressing you through the silk fabric of your panties, but as he pats your head, taking your hair away from your face, you lean into him, seeking any comfort he's willing to give. Steve purrs, landing a kiss to your brow, his fingers slowly spreading your gentle folds as you shudder. "Good girl."

You let out a shaky sigh as he circles your clit: surprisingly, he doesn't start pumping his fingers in and out like most guys do, too eager to have their dick inside. No, Steve just draws more sighs from you, makes you meek and pliant and wet as his fingers work your clit just the right way, and you squirm into the fabric of his t-shirt as he caresses the back of your head, pressing you into his chest.

It almost doesn't feel like he's forcing himself on you. It feels like... like he comforts you. As if he wants you to feel good, to be fine with him doing it to you.

"I'm... I'm-"

Your knees tremble as you sense the orgasm coming too soon, snuggling against your captor as his hand closes against your shoulders, his fingers working your clit even faster, circling, pinching, pressing on it like a button, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The coil tightens in your belly and, then, then... you become undone. Disintegrate in Steve's hands when he praises you tenderly for being good to him, kisses your cheeks wet from tears, and craddle you to his chest like a baby. He's painfully hard, you can feel it through his jeans when you lean onto him, but Steve doesn't seem in a hurry for his own release. He waits till your orgasm makes you all too soft and takes your face in his hand, giving you a deep kiss, his tongue coiling around yours.

You barely recognize when he lifts you up, feeling too comfortable and warm, pressed to him like that, but then you feel cool bedsheets behind your back, and then you're scared again.

Steve coes tenderly, giving you a peck on the lips, "Do you want to ride me, baby? Or do you want me to take you on your back, like a princess?"

The way he phrases it makes warmth creep into your cheeks, and you avert your eyes, mumbling, "On my back, please."

It doesn't even register that he forces himself on you right this minute. It feels like... something else. Something not so scary, not so violent. Something... tender.

"Like a princess, then," your captor smiles, hands trailing your jeans as he carefully slides them down, taking them away, living you half naked. "Alright. You'll be my princess."

Your face feels disturbingly hot when he says it, his hands on you as he tugs the fabric of your blouse up, lowering his head to drop a few kisses to your tummy, murmuring something you don't quite catch, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, you are completely naked in front of him, and you'd feel ashamed if he wouldn't caress your head again like you're a little girl, eager for his praise.

He gives you a kiss before inching away, taking his t-shirt off ever so slowly to give you a good look at his undoubtedly perfect body. But you don't look at his muscled arms or wide chest. Your eyes are trailing his scars, so many scars of different shapes and sizes that cover his skin. Many of them are long, undoubtedly deep, as if someone... as if someone stabbed Steve with a knife.

Your eyes water. Even if it's you who's a victim, a hostage, you feel a sharp sense of guilt as if it were you who hurt him.

He blinkes, a little surprised, perhaps, but you can see there's someone else in his eyes. Something like shame. Like self-loathing.

"A princess' knight is supposed to have a few scars here and there, right?" He gives a quiet laugh, getting down again to cage you with his body, but he freezes when your warm hand lands on a long, ugly line on his side, between the ribs. It is long healed, but the touch makes him stop, nonetheless.

You look him into the eyes, and your face is tight with worry. "I'm sorry," you whisper like it's your fault, your palm warming his skin, and Steve becomes alive again under your touch, his lips partying in a smile once more.

His hand caresses your nipple, pinching it between two fingers as he draws a breath from you, watching you intently, his hard, leaking cock heavy on your tummy. Then, suddenly remembering something, he bends over to grab something from his jeans, and you realize he's putting on a condom. You sigh in relief, and he catches that.

"Anything for a princess," he grins, sliding his hand over your thigh, and you still beneath him when he positions himself at your entrance.

You're scared. That moment you're back into your room, with a man who can shoot you hovering above you like a monster eager to eat you alive, and you forget how to breathe. You're not a princess in the care of your faithful knight. You're a hostage, and your captor can do anything he wants with you.

Steve feels the change in you in a moment, and he stops, his hand back to the top of your head. Even though you can feel how painfully hard he is, he waits, caressing you like a little girl, smiling to you, tenderly brushing your hair away from your face, repeating you'll always be safe with him. And then you're a princess again, and he's your knight.

He pushes into you, and you bit down on your lip, trying to relax: he's not monstrous, but Steve is still a bit too big for you to take him comfortably. Thankfully, he doesn't split you on his cock, giving you time to adjust, and with every moment the subtle pain grows weaker before it finally lets go, and you nudge your warden gently, your hands gripping his shoulder and your face in the crook of his neck. It doesn't hurt anymore. It almost feels good to be so full of him, to know what it's like to have him inside of you.

Steve says it's hard not to cum when you clamp down on him so much, gripping him like a vice. Pleasure softens his features, and you brush a strand of blond hair away from his face before you even register what you do. He does, though, and he likes it. He finally starts to move.

Sweat drips down your bodies when Steve keeps slamming inside of you, making all sorts of soft noises while you pant and choke beneath him, snuggling against his form, your legs wrapped around him tightly. His cock is pressing against every right spot of yours, making you forget who he is and what he does to you. You're his princess, his good girl, he repeats over and over again, and you feel safe in his embrace, inhaling his scent, taking his cock till its head presses into your cervix, leaving a pleasant ache and making you whine. It feels good to be in his care when he rolls to the side and presses your head to his chest, his other hand lifting your leg to reach a different angle, and you kiss his jaw, his neck, making it even harder to hold on, he says.

When he cums, you're already far too gone. The pleasure is too intense, and for a couple of minutes you say nothing to each other, panting, his hands still on the back of your head as he caresses you absent-mindedly, your bed a mess of damp and crinkled sheets. You wish to stop thinking. To forget everything. Just being here, being safe, is enough for now.

Until he speaks again.

"You'll come with me," he whispers feverishly, his hot palm on your cheek, almost burning you. "I'll take you away, and we'll go on a big adventure together, princess. With dragons, swords, and gold."

You're quiet against him, staring into his chest as he caresses your head.

You're not a princess. You're a prey.

___________

Tags: ​@finleyjayne @helenaeisenhower @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @rosalynshields @lookiamtrying @soleil-dor @cosicas-cuquis @buckybarnesplumwhore @lux-ravenwolf @stupendouslovegardener @what-is-your-wish @eralen @magnificantmermaid @typewritersworld @stcrrjoon @sweetxime @imrandomstuffsblog @gachawipes133

#dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #yandere #captain america #mcu fanfiction

[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.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel avengers #captain america #captain america x you #dark steve rogers #dark chris evans #chris evans #.💌 steve rogers #steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x y/n #dark steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #marvel #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers fluff

[lilacevans]

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

— pete’s place🤎

#chris evans #chris evans edit #chris evans gifs #chris evans imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers gifs #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #dark steve rogers #ari levinson #ari levinson gifs #ari levinson fic #ari levinson smut #ari levinson imagine #dark verse #dark au #pete's place #— lila’s secret project🤎 #tw captivity #tw kidnap mention #tw kidnapping

[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.”

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #captain america #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #mcu #dark mcu #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #dark fic #kris wrote something #dark!fic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“And this is your room,” Muriel stops before a door along the short hallway. “You have a neighbour just across the hall, and two more on the other side of the kitchen.”

You nod. It isn’t an ideal situation. Not one you ever saw yourself in. But survival isn’t built for the fussy. There are many others like you. Those not so lucky, those who are dead. Many who never got the choice of a new home.

You keep your hand on your rolling bag, your other on your canvas knapsack. They’re full of items that aren’t your own. Second-hand clothes acquired from shelters and toiletries given out by the support workers. You’re on your own now.

“Anything else, dear?” Muriel asks to your silence.

“Thank you, Muriel,” you murmur.

She hands you the key and leaves. Before showing you your own space, she took you around those shared by the rest of her boarders. You suppose they’re your roommates now. A kitchen, two bathrooms, a front room with a tattered couch and old tube television. You’ll stick to your own four walls.

You slide the key in the slot, the metal grinding loudly. You hear a throat clear and peer towards the noise. The walls must be thin. You’re still alone. You let yourself into the room, pulling the door shut behind you. You flip the lock back into place before you shove your bags by the wall.

There’s a twin bed with a metal frame, a single night table, and a standing lamp. There’s also a shallow closet. It’s not much but you don’t need more than that. It’s good to have a roof over your head.

You sit on the lumpy mattress and the frame squeaks loudly. You stand up again and pace around. There isn’t too much room. It shouldn’t matter, you won’t need it. You’ll be out working and back to sleep again. You start tomorrow at the convenience shop.

You hear a thump and your head pops up. You can’t help but jump in your shoes. Ever since the city rained down around you, every bump, every sudden noise has you skittish. It’s nothing, only another boarder.

You go to your bag and unbuckle the flap. You pull out a can of beans and the pocket knife in the side pocket. You go back to the bed and sit, another shrill whine from the metal frame. You pull out the can open from the pocket knife and peel back the lid. On the same keychain is a small metal spork you use to scoop out the beans, eating them cold as your stomach growls hungrily.

You eat, bite by bite, staring at the wall, just beside the only window. It isn’t home. You don’t expect one of those. It’s just a place to live. To survive.

🚪

You take your toothbrush and your tube of toothpaste with you to the bathroom down the hall. It’s just across from the other bedroom on that side of the flat. The doorway is dark, beckoning you inside. You flip on the light and shut the door as you enter.

You turn on the tap and set to brushing your teeth. Such a basic and simple task but one you didn’t always have the chance to do. It’s almost soothing to feel the bristles in your mouth. It makes you feel almost normal.

You take your time as the mint flavour sticks to your tongue. You rinse your brush and flick off the excess water, sliding it back into the travel tube and capping the paste. You look at yourself in the mirror, not for long, just to make sure you still recognise you.

You clutch your things in one hand and flick the light off. You open the door and nearly shriek at the shadow waiting in the hall. You waver in the doorway as a tiny wisp escapes your throat. You blink as the dark silhouette stands with arms crossed in the dim hall.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man says gruffly.

He's tall but mostly obscured. His hair wings out around his neck and his shoulders bulge broadly. You feel his eyes boring into you, as he can see through the darkness and you.

You dip your chin and sidle out, keeping your distance as you sidestep along the wall. You should apologise but your voice is buried deep down. You put your hand up in a show of deference.

“You done?” He asks.

You pause and look at the plaster across from you. You nod then turn your back to him completely. He must be the neighbour. You quickly shuffle to your room and hide behind the door. It’s much better than the shelter, you don’t have someone rolling into your sleeping bag, but still, you’re claustrophobic.

You mourn that most. The sense of privacy. Of personal space. Have a place that’s your own with people you know. People you love.

You toss your toothbrush and toothpaste onto the night table and huff as you sit on the bed. You frown and push your head back, trying to soothe the tightness between your shoulders. You blow out, breath rattling as your nose tingles.

You can never go back to Sokovia or how it was. You can only go forward and the road ahead is very lonely.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the lost #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #nomad!steve

[royalsweetteaa]

sadbucksblog asked: Ok here’s a thought that’s been running through my head. 1940s steve forcing himself on shy!innocent!reader and forcing her to marry him. Later when reader found out that he ‘died’ (during the plane crash), she was secretly glad. But surprise surprise Endgame steve came back to return the infinity stones n decides to stay with his widow for good.In my head, endgame steve is meaner & more jaded 😈

Oh, definitely!! Endgame Steve gives the most dom vibes out of all his previous versions. If reader thought Steve was bad in the 1940s, she has another thing coming when he returns. His stay in the modern age has corrupted him more and made him kinkier. Like imagine the things he would do against 40s reader now that he knows how to pleasure a woman, because I know for sure they didn’t care about that stuff in the 40s.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - Following contains: non-con, explicit smut, forced marriage, misogyny, 40s gender roles, dom/sub dynamic, dom!Steve, unbalanced power dynamic, mentions of somnophilia, slight bondage, dumbification, loss of virginity.

Title: His return

I imagine with this scenario, Steve liked Y/N a lot before he received the serum. You were so sweet and actually nice to him unlike the rest of the girls, but whenever he asked you on a date, you would reject him, saying you only saw him as a good friend.

And so after he got his super soldier strength, he expected you to like him back, because all women love strong and masculine men who can protect and provide for them (at least that’s how the gender norms were back in the 1940s). So imagine to his surprise when you kindly reject him even then after he has become a living female fantasy.

He literally cannot contain his fury and forces himself on you the same day, ignoring your pleas when you beg him to stop because you wanted to save yourself for marriage and give your virginity to someone you love.

“Don’t worry, my love. It’s not a sin if we end up getting married. You will take me as your husband or I’m going to tell everyone how much of a whore you are for spreading your legs so easily for me.” Steve threatened.

You were so scared, and knowing you had little authority in this situation, you did as he said. You knew no one would side with you if you were to protest against the new hero of the country; Captain America.

A month later, the two of you married and became husband and wife. Steve made you into his little house wife, and for each mission he came home from, he would fuck you for hours until you passed out. You were so clueless of the things Steve did to you sometimes, like whenever he would thrust inside of you in a specific angle causing you to feel an arising sensation from your abdomen. You didn’t know what it was, but it felt good no matter how shameful you were of it.

Whenever you accidentally dropped something, like a plate of food or when you burned dinner in the oven because you forgot the time, Steve would punish you by harsh spanking, telling you how bad of a wife you are for messing up your husband’s food. You would cry and apologize profusely until he stopped and left you with a sore butt.

He would also take you when you were fast asleep. You were a light sleeper, and only would you wake up when he jackhammered into you, causing a burning feeling around your sore pussy. Steve was huge due to his bodily enhancement, and it took a while for you to get used to his size. He would hardly talk when he fucked you as his only mission was to cum for relief. Steve was a busy man after all, with the war still ongoing. The weeks he was gone were the most peaceful times of your life ever since Steve took claim of you.

One fateful day, a military personnel visited you at your house and gave you the unfortunate news of the Captain’s loss. You shedded tears, but not because of Steve’s death. It was rather because the nightmare of a life was finally over. You felt relieved knowing Steve could never put his hands on you ever again.

2 years pass by, and you have all forgotten about Steve Rogers. You would occasionally see his face on posters and articles, and while it brought back some of the trauma, you always reminded yourself that he was gone for good.

At least, you thought he was.

It was a day like any other in your small little suburban house that you moved to after selling Steve’s house, and you suddenly heard the doorbell ring to your front door. You shouted ‘coming!’ to whoever was waiting outside, and turned off the temperature of your oven where there were freshly baked cinnamon rolls waiting for you later.

You open the door, and it’s like your whole world shatters before your eyes. There he was, your unmistakably still alive husband standing there. He looked more older, and it was only 2 years ago he was announced dead.

“Hello, my love. Have you missed me?” He asked darkly. You shrieked and tried to escape through the back door, but it was too late. Steve ran after you and grabbed you around your waist and held you down on the floor, preventing you from struggling away.

“That is no way to greet your husband after thinking he was dead for such a long time. I expected better from you, my wife. Maybe you have forgotten who you belong to and I need to give your dumb little brain a reminder.” He said, and carried you upstairs to your bedroom.

He threw you onto the bed like a rag doll and started to tie your wrists with velvet ropes he had brought with him to the headboard. This was new to you from all your previous experiences of having sex with Steve, and it scared you. “S-Steve, what is this?..what are you-!”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard and make you wish you never pulled that little escape stunt earlier. Silly woman, thinking you stand a chance against me. You’re mine, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure your dumb head understands that.”

He ripped your clothes off harshly, and he unbuttoned his trousers to free his cock from the restraints. You expected him to penetrate you like he always did before. That was the only type of sex you two were familiar with. But this ‘new’ version of Steve had different plans.

Your eyes widened when his face lowered at your pussy, causing you to feel distressed. “W-Wait, don’t do that!…I-It probably smells, I don’t want you to get too close to it!”

“Oh, Y/N, my sweet wife. You’re so clueless. What I did and did not do before I disappeared was when I was a boy. But I’m a man now, and I’m going to teach you so many things of how we can pleasure each other.”

His tongue stuck out of his mouth and he licked a stripe of your cunt, causing you to cry out a moan. You have never felt anything like this before. It almost felt unreal. It only got worse when his tongue glided between your pussy lips, gathering all your juices for him to savour.

“You taste delicious, my love. There isn’t a thing that’s more tastier than your sweet pussy…” he mumbled into your sensitive skin.

Steve never talked like this during sex, and somehow you preferred him not to talk because it made it easier to not enjoy it. This Steve however was making it harder to hate it with each new thing he did, and it made you feel horrible about yourself.

Suddenly, Steve used what felt like his thumb to rub at a particular spot. It caused your whole body to jolt at once like you were electrocuted, and you felt an overwhelming heat spread across your whole body.

“Do you know what this little pearl is, doll? It’s called a clitoris. It’s your most sensitive part of your pussy, and it will only be recognized as what engorges your wetness and surrounds your vagina in 2009 - about 70 years from now on. It also has about 8,000 nerve endings, which is why you become so sensitive when I touch it. Isn’t that fascinating, my love?”

You didn’t pick up a word of what he was rambling about because you were too out of it from his circling motion of rubbing your pearly nub. You couldn’t stop moaning and panting. Again came that familiar feeling of a rising high. Before you knew it, the feeling hit you like a wave and you felt your hole quivering.

“Aaaww, you just came. How cute….” He cooed, with a victorious grin. “Now, let’s get to the main course of this session. Haven’t been in this pussy for a loooong time. And I’m sure you’ve been a good girl not having anyone else inside you, right?”

You didn’t respond to that question, still pretty out of what had taken place moments earlier.

He slapped your cheek lightly but harsh enough to take you out from your daze. “Answer me, whore.”

“N-No! I haven’t, Steve! No one has been inside of me since you disappeared! I promise!” You answered with frantic.

He smiled again. “Good.”

He aimed his cock at your hole and shoved himself in with little care. He groaned loudly, sounding so content with the current feeling. “Oh, I’ve missed her…missed your pussy so much…I’ve missed you..” he said followed with a grunt. “I’m so glad I’m back. Back together with you.”

For the rest of the evening, he would torture you with new tricks of his that opened a new world of sex for you. By the end of the night, Steve had you wrapped in his strong arms, whispering the most obscene things and promises in your ear. Most of them were connected to one promise that made you dread for the future.

A promise of never leaving you ever again.

Note from author: this turned out a lot longer than I originally planned but I really enjoyed the concept and couldn’t help myself. I’m a hoe for endgame AND 40s Steve.🧍Anyways, thank you @sadbucksblog for sharing your idea! <3 Hope you enjoy it!

(This has been reposted here as I have deleted my old account!)

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

#dark steve rogers x reader #40s steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #drabble #chris evans fanfiction

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: noncon, dubcon, heavy misogyny, daddy!kink, smutt in public (kind of), 18+ minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve takes his omega to her first pool party.

“Hey, baby. Look at this!”

Steve takes off into a run before canon-balling into the pool, making the water splash everywhere in the process. But he surfaces with a grin, flipping his hair off his forehead. His light blonde tufts look dark brown from the water, and the sun radiates against the droplets on his pale face, making him shimmer like a diamond. You can hear a bunch of people – including Natasha – complain because the splash from his jump has completely soaked them, but all Steve does is flip them off before shooting you a smug smile.

“Wow.” You say as you walk up to the edge of the pool. “That was really cool.”

Before Steve can answer, you see someone whizz past you from your peripheral. A moment later, there’s another gigantic splash as Ransom canon-balls in next to Steve, and you yelp as the water hits you. The brunette alpha surfaces with a grin that rivals Steve’s in smugness, with the latter looking on sourly as you clap politely at Ransom’s jump.

“That wasn’t nearly as impressive as mine.” Steve scoffs, eying you warningly. You immediately stop clapping. “And you splashed water all over my girlfriend, you fucking asshole.”

“It’s a pool party, Steve. God forbid she gets a bit of water on her.” Ransom rolls his eyes as he climbs out of the pool and flips Steve off before shooting you a smile which you don’t dare return.

The two of you are at Steve’s friend Ransom’s house. Or rather, in his backyard where a pool party is in full swing. It’s a particularly hot day and everyone’s either sunbathing or swimming or licking snow-cones made from Ransom’s “state of the art snow-cone machine.” (That was the first thing the brunette alpha had shown you and Steve when the two of you had arrived. He’d bought it especially for today).

“I mean, Ransom’s pool is alright.” Steve had told you earlier when the two of you were changing in the pool-house. “But you’d think it’s an Olympic size pool from the way he shows off about it. Baby, wait till you see the pool at my house, it’s twice the size of this one.”

You had nodded, although the idea of someone even owning a swimming pool of their very own – big or small – was so completely unfathomable to you. But everyone who was here today hadn’t even blinked an eye at all the luxuries this mansion had to offer. From the huge hallways and sparkling marble floors to the gigantic backyard which resembled more of a golf course. Not to mention the pool-house alone was twice the size of your house back home!

“This place is like a castle.” You had breathed, sliding your fingers over the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the pool-house, watching the party in full swing outside. Thor was handing out cans of beer, Natasha by his side in a pretty red bikini that made her body look incredible. Ransom and Andy were making snow-cones, and Sam and Bucky looked to be organising a game of pool volleyball. There was a net set up in the water, and it looked like they were arguing about picking teams.

You could also see a bunch of girls settled on the side of the pool, in pretty bikinis and stylish sunglasses. You recognised a few of them from campus, and that made you gulp. What if Steve left you to hang out with his friends? You pray these girls are nice and you’ll fit in.

Steve had snorted, coming up behind you with his hand on your waist, pulling you into his bare chest. “This place is not like a castle, omega. I can show you castles; you just wait till you see my house.” He had kissed down the nape of your neck, the feel of his lips making you sigh until he pulls away and frowns, tugging at your shirt. “Take this off. It’s a pool party, remember?”

He takes it off for you, licking his lips when he sees what’s underneath. He had bought the bikini for you a few days ago. It was white with baby pink strings tying the thong and also going around your neck. Steve had said it was extremely sexy and cute, but you felt vulnerable as ever and paranoid every time he’d finger the strings – like he was doing now. You’d double-tied them tightly, but all he had to do was tug at them and they’d come loose.

Steve had barely given you enough time to put your flip-flops on, as well as your cute flowery cover-up, before he’d dragged you outside to the party.

Which is where you are currently, and you can’t help but smile softly down at Steve, who looks extremely proud of the cannonball he’s just performed. He swims over to where you’re standing, reaching up to grab your ankles.

“Come in. The water’s nice and cool.”

Your heart skips a beat at how laid back he’s being. This is a different side to Steve, who was usually so stoic and strict. Either that, or he was downright devious. Sometimes though, sometimes he lets himself go and relax. Like when he’s playing video-games and gets really into it, or when the two of you are cuddling and he lets Steve Junior join in, or when the two of you study together. Or now.

“I – uh – I don’t really want to swim.” You answer awkwardly, and your alpha rolls his eyes, the grip he has on your ankles not loosening. But the thought of taking your cover-up off and being in such a revealing bikini in front of all these people has you shaking your head pleadingly at him.

“It’s a pool party, omega. That means you have to swim.” Steve tells you as if you’re a baby who doesn’t understand the concept of a pool party.

You exhale softly before sitting down by the edge of the pool and dipping your feet in, sighing at how nice the water feels. And a part of you does want to go in, but you don’t know why you feel so self-conscious here. Well, actually, you do know why. It’s because you feel so out of place, in this huge mansion of a house with all these people from college whom you probably have nothing in common with. They aren’t your friends, you don’t have any friends. And they certainly don’t want to be your friends either, you just know it.

Steve settles between your legs, spreading them and smirking up at you. He presses a light kiss to your inner thigh, and it’s innocuous enough but you still look around in alarm. But no one is watching the two of you and so you try to relax.

“Relax, omega.” Steve commands you, and you get a whiff of his summery scent and sigh as it seems to soothe you from the inside out. You shoot your alpha a small smile, and he only smirks, continuing to kiss your thigh as his hands slips up and down your bare legs. You freeze when you feel his fingers lock around your ankles, the sudden image of him cruelly tugging you into the water crossing your mind.

But Steve only lifts your foot up, licking his lips as he watches your white nail polish gleam in the sunlight. You gulp when he presses a kiss on your toe, before a dark, lustful look clouds his eyes and you pull away.

“Not here, Steve! Please!” You whisper.

“Why not? You’re my omega and I can do whatever I want with you, so–”

“Hey, Steve! Great weather, huh?”

Jake Jensen swims up to Steve, a comically wide grin on his face. He’s got a thick layer of white sunscreen all over his face, with an especially thick blot on the tip of his nose. And yet, he’s still sunburnt and slightly pink to match the shade of his salmon-coloured swimming trunks.  His eyes squint as he smiles at Steve – either because of the sun or because he’s not wearing his glasses.

Steve rolls his eyes, getting in front of you to block you from Jake’s view.

“Jensen, who the fuck invited you?”

“Uh, Ransom did? He invited the whole football team! This sure is a swell pool, huh, Steve? I’ve got one too – well, my parents do. But it’s not as big as this one.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.” Steve says drily, “Hey! Eyes on me, Jensen. Don’t even think about looking at her.”

“I wasn’t–”

“I know your angle, you fucking creep. Swimming over here and trying to act all casual so you can get a close up look at my girlfriend in her bikini.”

Jake blinks, his eyes zeroing in on you peaking over Steve’s shoulder. “I didn’t even notice her, actually, but–”

“Are you insulting my girlfriend now, Jensen? Are you fucking insinuating that she’s not noticeable?!”

“What? No–”

“Shut up, you fucking idiot. And get away from us. In fact, get out of the whole pool.” Steve points to the far corner of the backyard, where a jacuzzi bubbles away on its lonesome. “Go sit in there, Jensen. I’m banning your creepy ass from this pool. Now go before I kick you off the football team.”

You watch as Jake hurriedly swims away, a look of dismay on his face. “Steve, you shouldn’t be so mean to him– Hey!”

You yelp as your alpha’s muscular arms encircle around you, pulling you into the pool with a gentle splash. Your arms automatically go around his neck, and your legs – unable to reach the floor of the pool – instinctively wrap around his waist until you’re clinging to him like a koala.

“There. Now none of these creeps can stare at your body.” Steve’s hand slips down to squeeze your ass underwater and you jump in surprise, inadvertently rubbing your front against his crotch. His eyes darken and he clutches you closer, till you can feel his hard dick through his trunks rub against your mound which is barely concealed by your bikini. You fight yourself in order not to moan, shooting Steve a pleading look only to find that his eyes are too busy staring at your cleavage, which is ample and wet and pressed up against his chest.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy, omega.” Steve says, leaning forward to kiss you roughly. He bites at your bottom lip, almost drawing blood as his hands continue to fondle you. You feel your walls clench but you have to remind yourself that you’re in a pool with a bunch of other people. Meanwhile, underwater, Steve’s hand slips under your bikini bottoms, cupping your bare ass cheek and jiggling it lewdly.

“Fuck, why’d you have to wear such a tiny, slutty bikini, huh?” Steve whispers, licking the shell of your ear sensually and sending thrills up and down your spine. “You think you can look this sexy and cute and I won’t fuck you in the middle of this pool right now?”

“B-But, Steve! You chose this bikini!”

“Don’t lie, baby omega.” He pinches your ass again before his fingers tug threateningly at the flimsy string holding your bikini bottoms to your body. “Now everyone’s staring at your hot, tight little body because they all want to fuck you. But they can’t, because that’s my job.”

“Please don’t take my bikini off!” You plead softly, as he continues to play with the strings of your bikini-bottoms. You try to swim away from him, but he holds on tightly to you, shooting you a warning look before his eyes grow distracted by your breasts again, and his hands cup them both.

“Who told you to tease me like this, huh?” He kisses up your neck, squeezing and fondling your breasts like an animal pawing at his prey, “Who told you to wear such a tight, sexy bikini and push your tits up so they look all sexy? God, you’re killing me, baby. And I know you’re doing it on purpose, just like you always do.”

You know Steve well enough at this point to realise that when he’s riled up and horny, he tends to accuse you of baseless things like leading him on purposely. But all you’re trying to do at this very moment is make sure he doesn’t slip his dick inside you at this pool party in front of everyone. Because Steve could really be a menace when he wanted to, and his libido knew no bounds. He would definitely fuck you in front of an audience, no questions asked. In fact, he’d happily do it.

“Who’s that?” You blurt out in a desperate bid to distract him. You look toward the gates where Ransom is greeting a pretty brunette girl who you’ve never seen before. Steve follows your gaze and snorts.

“That’s Marta, Ransom’s new girlfriend.”

“Oh. She’s very pretty.” You comment, taking note of how Ransom looks genuinely happy to see her. He picks her up and swings her around, and she laughs and bats him with her purse before they kiss.

“She’s a gold-digging slut.” Steve says darkly.

“What?”

“You heard me. She has a reputation for being the biggest gold-digger in New York and everyone knows it.” Steve holds you close, as if physically shielding you from getting influenced by Marta, who isn’t even looking at either of you. “Instead of getting a degree like the rest of us, she’s been steadily seducing half the male population in the city, and getting them to buy her whatever she wants.”

“But I thought you preferred it when omegas didn’t get degrees?”

You don’t know where the quip comes from, but you regret it as soon as the words leave your mouth. Steve shoots you a warning look and you quickly bow your head submissively, “I’m sorry.”

“You better be. One more slip-up like that and I’ll spank you in front of everyone,” Steve threatens before continuing, “Omegas have no business getting degrees, but they also have no business acting like gold-digging sluts. Anyways, all of us tried to warn Ransom but he’s a fucking idiot, clearly.”

You look towards the couple once again; Ransom is making Marta a personalised snow-cone, drawing a sloppily-drawn heart out of strawberry syrup on top of the shaved ice. Marta claps excitedly, giving Ransom a kiss on the cheek. They look pretty happy and genuine to you, but Steve probably knows better?

You mull over all this new information, “B-But Steve, you buy me tons of expensive stuff all the time. Do people think I’m a gold-digger?”

Steve presses a bunch of kisses on your neck, holding you tightly against him as if he’s afraid you’ll float away. “No, baby. No one would dare make that assumption about you, because I would kill them. And anyways, you’re too cute and innocent and humble to be a gold-digger. Not like Marta, who is a whore.”

You wrinkle your nose, “Steve, please don’t say that…”

“She is, though. She made Ransom buy her a Birkin bag when he’d only known her two weeks.”

You’re wondering why Steve seems so incensed over a simple bag when suddenly–

“You sure do love to gossip, don’t you, Steve?”

Natasha walks over to the corner of the swimming pool where you and Steve are. She’s wrapped a silky black sarong around her hips, and it looks good with her deep red bikini.

“And you sure do love to eavesdrop, don’t you?” Steve fires back, his grip on you tightening possessively.

Natasha rolls her eyes and looks from Steve to you, “Don’t listen to Steve. Marta’s a great girl, we used to go to the same yoga class a few years ago.”

“Of course, you think she’s great.” Steve remarks, sneering at Nat as if she’s a disease, but the redhead remains unperturbed, shooting him a sweet smile before looking back to you.

“Let’s hang out soon. I can fill you in on all the real gossip, and –”

“She doesn’t want to hang out with you.” Steve answers on your behalf. You wince, because it’s not true at all! You’d love to hang out with Natasha, and she’s always inviting you out, either to shop or grab brunch. But Steve never gives you permission to go, because he claims Natasha is a bad influence. You wish you were brave enough to stand up to Steve but you’re not, so instead you just shoot Natasha an apologetic look, and the redhead smiles understandingly back at you.

“Steve! Come on, we’re playing volleyball and you’re on my team!” Sam calls out from the other side of the pool.  

Steve makes a face before shouting back, “I’m busy with my girlfriend!”

“She can play too.” Bucky walks up with the volleyball under his arm, “She can be on my team, we could use an extra player since we got stuck with Jensen.” He gives you a meaningful stare, his cold blue eyes raking you up and down, making you shrink back into Steve. But the brunette alpha smoothly looks away as soon as Steve glances at him.

“Haha, very funny. Omegas don’t play sports.” Steve gives you a kiss on the cheek and a condescending pat on your bum which you’re happy is underwater so no one sees. His lips brush against your ear, “I’m gonna go play for a while, okay, baby?”

You nod, “That’s alright, Steve. I’ll just stay here.”

Steve looks at you, then at Natasha, then back at you before narrowing his eyes, “Don’t talk to her. Just watch me play, okay?”

“Okay.” You cross your fingers behind your back, hoping he won’t see.

He kisses you some more, claiming it’s a good luck kiss but it quickly turns into a good luck make-out before Bucky drags him away.

You climb out of the pool, regretting it instantly because you feel all wet and exposed. But Natasha hands you a big, fluffy towel, and you gratefully wrap it around yourself before she tugs you over to a couple of deck chairs.

“Steve is so bossy,” Natasha giggles, and you follow her gaze to the other side of the pool. There’s a net set up and Steve is already busy explaining strategies to his team members, before telling them exactly where to stand and what to do.

“Yeah.” You agree softly.

“I bet the only one he really listens to is you, am I right?”

Your eyes widen, “Oh no, Steve doesn’t really… I, uh, I could never tell him what to do.”

Natasha stretches and lays down on her deck chair, “I mean, I tell Thor to load the dishwasher or empty the drier, that kind of stuff.”

You look down to your lap, “Oh, well, Steve says that household chores are an omega’s job.” You pause, your eyes focused on Steve as he slams the volleyball straight at Jensen’s face. Jensen yelps, his glasses flying into the water as Steve laughs and high-fives Sam. You suddenly grow paranoid, wondering if your words will somehow get back to him. “I don’t mind doing the household chores at all, though! Actually, I find it very relaxing.” (This isn’t even a lie).

Natasha nods thoughtfully, “Yeah, I don’t mind it either. But you could definitely get Steve to help you out.”

You smile, not saying anything. You certainly doubted you could make Steve do anything.

The redhead sits up straight, “I’m serious, though! Next time you’re unloading the dishwasher, just be like ‘Oh no, these dishes…they’re so heavy!’ Trust me, watch how he’ll make you sit down and do it all himself. Alphas eat the whole ‘damsel in distress’ thing right up.”

You mull over it; maybe that would work… Steve never ever let you do any heavy-lifting around the house. You weren’t even allowed to take the trash out, and sometimes he’d even take the laundry basket out of your hands if it looked too heavy. “Baby omegas like you shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,” he’d always say.

Relaxing and sitting back, all warm in your fluffy towel, you listen as Natasha gives you more relationship advice. She tells you all the “little things” you can do to control your alpha, like dress up in sexy lingerie and withhold sex until he agrees to your demands. Or keep him on his toes by not answering his texts immediately, and ignoring him so that it drove him crazy. You knew most of these ideas would never work with Steve, but it was nice to listen to her speak anyways, plus it also gave you an interesting insight on her relationship with Thor.

Steve’s team wins the volleyball match, and he comes back to you with a smug smile on his face. Swooping you up in his arms and giving you the biggest kiss ever, till your cheeks are hot and your heart is racing.

“Did you see me?” He asks, kissing you all over your face as if Natasha isn’t a foot away from you two, “Did you see how I scored that last point?”

“Yes,” you lie, because you had dozed off for the past few minutes under the deliciously warm sun and the fluffiness of your towel, “You were really good!”

“Damn right. And did you see how bad Jensen was?”

Steve gives you a detailed play-by-play of the whole game, whilst also simultaneously carrying you off to the hot-tub in the corner of the yard. Natasha waves you goodbye before skipping over to Thor, and you watch her bat him on the shoulder before he throws her into the pool, jumping in after her.

“…and then Bucky rage quit because his team was so shit, and I think he actually left and drove home.” Steve shakes his head, “Classic Bucky. He can’t ever take a loss.”

He gently places you into the hot tub, and you sigh as you sink into the hot, steamy, bubbling water. It’s deep, almost up to your neck when you sit down. But Steve has other plans, hastily pulling you into his lap once he’s settled down as well. In fact, he places you right on top of his hard bulge, which is definitely noticeable underneath his trunks.

“So, is my baby omega gonna give me a reward for winning?” He pinches your ass, a mischievous glint in his eye. His hands settle on your hips, grinding you down against his bulge and smirking when you yelp and grab onto his chest and shoulders.

“Not here!” You gasp, earning another pinch to your ass.

“Really? Is that why you keep grinding your cute little butt on my dick?”

“I’m not!”

“Don’t lie to me, omega.” Steve draws you closer with his big hand on the back of your neck, kissing you roughly, his hands fondling every part of your body. He keeps one hand squarely on your ass, his fingers digging between your ass cheeks and prodding at your puckered hole through the thin material of your bikini. You gasp straight into his mouth, and he just smirks against your lips, not allowing you to break the kiss as his other hand slips up to squeeze your breast. His thumb brushes against your hard nipple, and he tries to pull your bikini top off before you manage to fend him away.

“Not here, Steve, please!” You beg, not knowing how far he’d go. His eyes are almost black with lust, as if he’s horny off of winning the volleyball game and impressing you. And a part of you knew this would happen, that this was inevitable the moment he made you put on this extra revealing bikini in the first place. But you’d hoped he’d have at least dragged you off somewhere private, instead of the hot-tub which was out in the open with everyone still milling around.

“Address me properly, baby omega.” Steve whispers in your ear, his tone dripping with lust. “And you shouldn’t have put on this slutty bikini if you didn’t want me to fuck you in front of everyone. All these guys have been staring at you all day. Now I have to show them all how I own you.”

His fingers play with the string that’s holding your bikini top together, his other hand now tracing shapes on the exposed skin of your butt cheek. He gives it a jiggle, smirking when you clutch him harder, your hands wrapping around his neck in an effort to calm yourself down.

“I think you should take your bikini off. Daddy wants to see your tits.”

You shake your head pleadingly, “No, Steve – I mean daddy – please, I can’t do that!”

He doesn’t even blink, his eyes focused on your cleavage which is practically spilling out of the bikini. He licks his lips, a carnality suddenly taking over his being and he grabs the flimsy cups of your bikini and pulls them downwards, exposing your breasts. You don’t even have time to react before his mouth latches on to one of your nipples, his other hand covering your other breast by squeezing it.

You bite your lip to contain your moan, but Steve moans freely around your nipple as he suckles it. His tongue licks sensually around your hardened peak, making you jolt in his lap. He holds you down firmly, digging his boner up between your ass. He sucks your nipple as if he’s starving, biting at it as if he wants to make you scream, but you stop yourself just in time.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby.” Steve tells you, “I almost lost concentration a few times during that volleyball game. All I could think about was you looking all cute and sexy, wearing this slutty bikini as if you were begging me to fuck you.”

“Daddy – ah! – can we do this at home please?” You ask, because now you can feel yourself getting turned on. Despite your embarrassment and discomfort, you can feel your pussy clench at his degrading dirty talk.

“No. And stop telling me to stop or else I’ll fuck you on that deck chair, right in the middle of everyone.” He stops suckling on your nipple for a second, pinching it instead as he looks at you thoughtfully, “Actually, no. Keep telling me to stop because I like it when you do that. Reminds me how weak and babyish you are.” He licks a stripe up the side of your face before kissing your cheek sloppily, “Beg me again, say: ‘daddy, please stop.’”

“Daddy, please stop!” You moan pitifully, your brain wanting him to stop but your body not quite agreeing as you feel your hips involuntarily jut against him. And you’re just about to lose control, just about to give in to him because he feels so good and he smells so enticing and he’s your daddy so he’s in charge and the omega inside you is purring and wanting to do exactly what he orders you to, and then–

“Mind if we join you guys?”

Ransom plops into the hot tub, with Marta hot on his heels. Your eyes widen, and Steve huffs in annoyance before pushing your bikini back up to cover your breasts. The tub is bigger than most, and big enough that Ransom and Marta are able to sit a few feet away from you and Steve. They’re too busy talking to notice anything, but Steve double-knots your bikini strings just in case, glaring daggers at the couple sitting across from you.

You try to slip off Steve’s lap after that, but he holds you in place and shoots you a warning look. So you sit there, your back against Steve’s chest and his hard dick poking angrily against your butt.

“I was just telling Marta how similar you and I are, Steve.” Ransom pipes up.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Steve asks sardonically. You can tell he’s pissed off at being interrupted, which is never a good sign. You remember once he was about to fuck you in the locker room before the coach had called him. Steve had been seething, and with all that pent-up sexual frustration, you knew you were in for it once he was done. Right now was no different.

Ransom sits back, his arm around Marta who sips coolly on a frozen strawberry daquiri. You hadn’t really paid attention to it, but there was also an open bar in the corner of the backyard, with the alphas taking turns making drinks. Thankfully, Steve hadn’t drank tonight – otherwise he’d have been ten times hornier than he was now.

“We’re both wifed up and in serious relationships.” Ransom draws Marta close, and she nuzzles her nose against his neck. “And you know what? Now I get what all the hype is about. Marta and I have been talking about marking each other up too, and –”

Ransom drones on and on, and you nod politely. Steve, on the other hand, stiffens underneath you. You can tell he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. What you didn’t count on is his dick driving up into you at that exact moment. You almost gasp out loud before covering it up by pretending to clear your throat. His hands rub up and down your thighs, and you’re so happy this is all happening under the water otherwise you’d never be able to live it down.

Marta excuses herself to get another drink, Ransom’s eyes following her as she leaves, a lovesick look on his face.

“Bro, you’re pathetic.” Steve sneers, and all the while his hands are slipping up till he cups your core through your bikini bottoms, making your breath hitch. “You’ve only been seeing her for two weeks.”

“So?”

“So, you need to chill the fuck out.”

Steve pushes your bikini bottoms to the side, exposing your bare core to the hot water. Fuck. His thick fingers probe and explore your slick folds, and you cannot believe what he’s doing because Ransom is only a few feet away from you guys. And Steve’s casually giving out advice as if he isn’t about to finger you under the water this very second!

Ransom sighs, “I know, but she isn’t just some random hookup, okay? I actually have feelings for her.”

You’re barely able to focus on the two alphas’ conversation, your face and neck heating up as you squirm on Steve’s lap. A part of you feels so degraded, sitting on your alpha’s lap as if you’re nothing more than a decorative toy for him to play with while he talks to his friend. It’s what he’s doing right now, his pointer finger circling your clit casually while he holds you close in his lap.

“If you want to be the dumbass who gets played by an omega, then suit yourself, bro.” Steve shrugs, focusing his attention back on you. Ransom looks torn, and you secretly hope he doesn’t take Steve’s advice too seriously. You don’t know much about gold-diggers or relationships in general, but Ransom and Marta look genuine from what you’ve seen. Not that you have time to dwell over their situation, because Steve chooses that exact moment to slip two fingers inside you.

“Oh, oh fu-” You cry out.

Ransom frowns, “You okay?”

“Don’t talk to my girl!” Steve warns.

“Ex-Excuse me.” You squeak, managing to get up off of Steve’s lap while he’s momentarily distracted. You step out of the hot tub before he can stop you, quickly wrapping yourself in your fluffy towel. “Bathroom.” You explain, before speed-walking over to the pool-house, inwardly praying you don’t slip and embarrass yourself in your hasty exit.

Heart drumming, you safely make it to the pool house and make a beeline for the bathroom. You’ve only just managed to catch your breath when the door opens and closes behind you. You barely have time to register what’s happening before Steve pushes you forward, bending you over the marble sink and giving you four hard slaps to the ass in quick succession.

“Bad girl.” Steve tuts, “What got into you, huh? Running away from daddy like that?”

“I’m sorry, I just… Steve it would’ve been so inappropriate to do that in front of everyone!”

“What’s inappropriate is slutty baby omegas like you wearing sexy bikinis to distract me. You forced my hand, baby.” He swiftly rips your bikini bottoms apart, squeezing your ass cheeks with both his hands, till you know his handprints will be imprinted on your skin. “Well, we’re all alone now, omega. There’s nowhere for you to run.”

He presses his hard dick against your wet folds, and you sigh involuntarily, rutting back against him. In the privacy of this bathroom, you can finally relax.

“I’m gonna fuck you on every inch of every surface inside this bathroom,” Steve promises darkly in your ear, sucking and biting at your earlobe before pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, “and then I’m gonna drag you outside and fuck you against the glass doors of this pool house. You got that, omega?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.”

THE END. I know i know i know that ended super abruptly, but trust me when i tell you i could’ve gone on and on and ON and this was just meant to be a small drabble!!! PLEASE tell me what you think and reblog pls!!! ily ily ily and this was really random and idek if it’s any good but please just let me know what you think! ALSO YES, steve is such a menace in this and idk if this is canon compliant but it’s a poyt drabble so here we goooo!!! LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OK BYE

#poyt #poyt drabble #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #chris evans

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Future Plans

Pairing: Dark Steve Rogers x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Steve has a desire to have a family and you’re no one to stop him. 

WARNINGS: Non-con; Implied Kidnapping; Forced Pregnancy. 

AN: First time writing non-con, so let me know how this is. This is a small gift for reaching 900 followers, thank you guys! Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

“No! Stop it!” you cry out but to no avail. Steve keeps fucking you against the matress with rough thrusts, his pelvis hitting your own in a painful way that makes you squeal.

You’re dry as a desert and it only makes your pain worse, his massive cock drilling your weak pussy. His hands hold down your wrists, his handsome face contorted with wicked pleasure as his sweat drips down to your face. 

The bed squeaks with every movement, continuously hitting the wall behind it. The tears keep wetting your face as you’re unable to control yourself. You hate him so much, you just want him to leave you alone. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m getting so close.” he groans, eyes rolling with satisfaction. Steve tries to kiss you, but you turn your head so his lips kiss your skin instead, sucking and spreading his disgusting saliva all over you. 

“I’m gonna give you a kid, how about that?” he grunts, moving a hand to grab your face, forcing you to stare at him. Horror fills every inch of your body, the little hope you had for yourself starting to disappear.

“No, no…” you regain energy as you strongly try to push Steve away from you. A child is the least thing you need right now.

He only chuckles, followed by a moan and he thrusts into you harder, eyes glinting with intense emotion. Lust, madness.

“You’re gonna be so heavy with my kid that you won’t be able to stand properly, much less run away. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. Fuck, yes.” Steve mutters, his thrusts getting more erratic and violent as he keeps talking. 

“I’ll always keep you pregnant, heavy and full of my babies. That’s going to be so nice, isn’t it?” tears keep running down your face and you’re not sure if it’s because of his aggressive way of fucking you or because of deranged his plans. 

He fucks you relenlessly until he suddenly halts, a loud moan escaping his lips as the buries his face on your face. Steve crashes down on top of you, his weight making it harder for you to breathe but he doesn’t seem to notice you trying to get away from him.

Instead, he kisses your neck and takes a deep breath, pushing his cock until you can’t take more of him. Some white cum drips down your pussy and down your thighs, the feeling is gross and you can’t wait to clean it all.

He seems to have read your mind because he hugs you, twisting your body so that you’re caged back into his arms, his cock still buried inside you. 

“No cleaning, babe, we gotta make sure it sticks. We should have a little one in nine months.” Steve declares, tilting his hips upwards, as he kisses the top of your sweaty head.

You close your eyes, hoping to wake up next morning and find out it’s all just a big nightmare. 

It’s not and in nine months, you find yourself holding a tiny baby as Steve fervoulsy kisses your forehead, thanking you for giving him such a beautiful bundle of joy. 

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere avengers #yandere marvel #dark marvel #dark avengers #yandere steve rogers #yandere steve rogers x reader #yandere!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #tw: noncon #tw: yandere #tw: kidnap mention #tw: forced breeding #tw: forced pregnancy #yandere x reader #yandere scenario #yandere!steve rogers x reader

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve smut #dark!steve x reader #dark steve x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!captain america #dark!fic #mcu smut #mcu x reader #slasher!au #stalker!steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #kechiwriteskinktober #kechiwrites #cw: dark content #cw: noncon #kinktober 2023 #captain america x reader #chris evans characters #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x black!reader #steve rogers x black reader

[cthulhu-calling]

New Perspective

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: What happens when you wake up in a bed that isn’t yours, next to a man who was supposed to have gone back to the past?

Warnings: dark fic, dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, smut, rape/non-con, l-bombs, friends with benefits

Author's Note: This is a dark Steve Rogers x f!Reader story. Sit this one out if it isn't for you. Please consider the tags before proceeding, this is your final warning, I am not responsible for the content you consume.

Word Count: 2,216

ao3 link

Steve Rogers Masterlsit

“You’re not coming back, are you?” 

He looked down at his feet, not able to meet your gaze. Slowly nodding his head, still not looking up, he reaches out to hold you in his massive, trunk-like arms and you let him. 

You and Steve had always been close, even if he was quite cold and standoffish when you first met. What had started off as a simple and pure friendship had developed into something more dark and dirty.

 In the day, he was your close friend and Captain but at night, he was your refuge. Nights spent with hot, sweaty, limbs tangled in each other, rough fingers tugging at your hair as you drew pleasure from each other’s bodies. 

Your arrangement was unconventional, sure, but it’s how you both liked it. No strings attached, just sex. You both had far too much going on to even consider an actual relationship with someone, so you helped each other out during lonely nights. 

To say you would miss him was a massive understatement but you knew he deserved to be happy. Happy with the love of his life,  Peggy Carter. 

Pulling away, you gently cupped his cheek before brushing your lips lightly against his. “You deserve happiness Steve. I won’t hold this against you, but don’t you dare forget about me.” you whispered as you playfully narrowed your eyes at him, poking a finger at his chest. 

He huffed out a laugh at your poor attempt at jest before pulling you close to him, searching your eyes for something more. 

“Steve, I am happy for you. After all that you’ve done for the world, you deserve a chance at being truly happy,” you said, offering him a genuine and what you hope was a reassuring smile. 

Looking lost, he gently nodded his head before pulling you towards the bed. One last time , you thought to yourself as you gave in to him. 

One last time, or so you thought.

Steve hadn’t meant to fall in love. 

What started out as a simple arrangement  of friendly banter and arguments by day and animalistic fucking by night ended up becoming the most passionate affair of his lifetime, and that in itself was saying a lot.

You were the one for him. He knew it and he believed it was high time you realised it too. 

But you? You were as clueless as they came. It was getting a little infuriating at this point, if Steve was being completely honest with himself. 

It was cute at first. How you would act as if you didn’t realise that he loved you. He bought right into the whole faux innocence act and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him achingly hard and desperate for you. To have you on top of him, your tight little dripping hole stretching to accommodate his thick length as you moan and mewl wantonly. 

But even after months, when you failed to acknowledge how in love with you he was, it started to anger him. How you would have a flirty back and forth with Sam, or brush a perfectly manicured finger against a random stranger’s arm at the pub, bending over slightly while pushing your elbows together to give them an eyeful of your cleavage. All of it made his blood boil.  

So he decided, he had to have you. No matter what. 

He wouldn’t find a more perfect opportunity than this. Under the guise of going to return the stones, he had you believe that he wasn’t coming back, that he was going back to Peggy. Surely, that would make you insecure and you’d beg him to come back, beg him to not leave you. It was foolproof, he was sure of it. 

But when he told you he was leaving, your reaction shocked him. You weren’t desperate for him to come back, begging him to stay back and vowing to do anything to please him. Instead, you were happy for him. 

At first, he couldn’t believe his ears. Surely, you can’t be serious. Did you really not love him? 

He was quick to dispose off that thought though. He was the love of your life and you were his. You belonged with him. To him. He figured that it was all an act, to hide how you truly felt. It was then that he decided to take matters into his own hands. 

That’s how you found yourself in this predicament; groggy and confused, still half asleep in a bed that isn’t yours. Once you realise the bed isn’t actually yours, the bedding a baby pink as averse to the bright yellow of your own with every square inch covered by one too many pillows, you’re alert immediately. Where are you? 

You push the covers off of yourself and just as you’re about to set your feet on the floor, the door at the left corner of the roughly rectangular room swings open, a smiling Steve stepping inside before shutting and locking the door behind him. 

“Morning sleepy head. You’ve been out for quite a while now, almost had me worried there.” he sighed the last part, the eerily hopeful smile still glued to his face. 

You looked around yourself, taking in your surroundings before looking back up at Steve. You were in a room with clean white walls, a huge bed in the centre of the room with two twin nightstands on either side of it. There were no windows, only the door through which he had entered and that too on closer inspection seemed to be made of thick metal, too heavy for anyone without superhuman strength to even try to budge. 

“Where am I Steve? How are you still here?” you asked, you throat scratchy. 

“C’mon honey, sit up straight,” he said as he moved closer to you, holding a tall glass of water to your lips. 

Gulping down the water, you cleared your throat before asking again, “Where are we? How are you still here? I saw you leaving Steve,” you thought out loud, pushing the thick covers off of your body, suddenly feeling their presence suffocating, only to look down and find yourself in a ratty and oversized t-shirt and  boxer shorts, both you were sure you’d seen on Steve at some point in time. 

Steve took in your form hungrily, loving how you looked in his clothes. 

“You need to relax honey. I’ll answer all your questions, but not right now,” he said as he gently pushed you back on the bed, tucking you in. 

“No, I need you to tell me right now. What the fuck’s going on here exactly?” you said, throwing back the covers to move out of the bed but before you can blink, you’re pinned down by Steve’s body. 

“I will not tolerate such language from you. You’re mine and you’re going to do exactly as I say, is that clear honey?” he said almost sweetly but you knew it was all an act to hide how angry he truly was. You saw right through his facade. 

“Yours? Steve, the fuc-“ you cut yourself off on seeing his glare, “I- I uh, don’t get it. What are you on about?” you breathed out.

“No point in pretending anymore my love, I’m only doing what you were too scared to do. I know you love me, I just had to get you to admit it. What better way then a romantic little getaway. No phones, no one but the two of us,” he said in a sort of dazed voice while you just sat there, slack jawed and wide eyed.

“You-you, uh, you’ve lost it! You’ve gone absolutely mental! I don’t love you, and I’m sorry if I made you believe that I did but you need to let me go,” you said while pushing him back and quickly getting out of the bed. 

He grabbed you by your hips, spinning you around and pulling you close so you were right against his chest. 

“Stop acting coy, I know you want me just as much as I want you. Can’t you see? We’re supposed to be together, together forever. And while I won’t tolerate how you spoke to me just now, I’ll let it pass just this once.

“I know you’re stressed love, but you’ve got to accept it. You’re the love of my life. You belong to me. ” He whispered the last part slowly as his hands travelled down to the small of your back, grabbing your ass and squeezing it, making you gasp. 

His lips attacked yours, swallowing all your protests as he slowly guided you back to the bed, pushing you down on it. 

“Give me a chance to prove it to you, make you see how right we feel, together,” he mumbled as he peppered kisses down you neck and chest, occasionally sucking a dark mark, laying his claim on you. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he kept mumbling as his hand reached to tug down your shorts, deft fingers prodding at your entrance. 

He rubbed his thumb in figure-8’s around your clit, drawing a strangled moan from you. Arms and legs giving up their struggle as you fisted the sheets, pleasure shooting up your spine. 

“Please, Steve,” you moaned breathily and you knew not if you begged for him to stop or for more. 

The cheeky bastard had the audacity to act innocent as he slowed his movements, “Please what, my love?” he asked and you could hear the smug smirk on his face.

“Let me go, please!” you yelled, struggling against his hold with renewed vigour. 

Smack!

“Wrong answer honey,” he growled as he landed another smack on your bare pussy, making you yelp. 

Easily pinning you down, he ran his fingers through your folds before collecting the wetness there, bringing his dripping fingers to your lips. 

“Suck.” he ordered. 

When you didn’t move to open your mouth, he pushed his fingers into the back of your throat, effectively choking you. 

“Bad girls don’t deserve to be prepared beforehand, do they?” he asked condescendingly before he plunged his thick cock into your unprepared channel. 

Immediately setting a punishing pace as his free hand grabbed hold of both your wrists, pinning them above your head. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelching of your drenched pussy only spurring him on. 

“Look at you, dripping for me. You’re enjoying this just as much as me, aren’t you? And yet, yet you deny me of something that can only be right. We belong together, can’t you see?” he said with a low growl. 

You moaned around his fingers, the shame of being close to your climax while he forced himself on you bringing tears to your eyes. 

Letting go of your wrists, he brushed away your tears, driving himself harshly into your dripping cunt, “Don’t cry my love, don’t cry for something you can’t change. We belong together, and I’ll make sure you see it.” 

Making true of his promise, he started pounding into you, deeper and harder, hitting the spot that made your mind go blank, not being able to focus on anything but the pleasure that only his cock could give, that only he could give . 

You let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob as you came undone, clenching down hard on his cock, milking him. 

Grunting as he emptied himself inside of you, he slowly removed his fingers from your mouth, bringing his lips to yours for a rather chaste kiss considering he’d been balls deep in you just seconds ago. 

“I deserve to be happy. You said it yourself, my love. After all that I’ve done for this world, it’s the least I deserve. And we’re going to be so happy,” he mumbled into your ear, more for himself than you as he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, keeping you close to his body as your eyelids started to droop. 

Oh, whatever were you going to do now? 

#dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dead dove do not eat #smut #love bombing #stalking #cnc kidnapping

[biteofcherry]

Darkness between the stars

Darth!Steve Rogers x female reader

Author's Note: On my recent wave of feels after Anakin's cameo in Ahsoka, I couldn't stop thinking about powerful Jedi Steve Rogers, who was once galaxy's hope, turning dark. This is very loosely inspired by Anakin's storyline, without going full on Vader-look (because Steve's face is too pretty to cover it with that ugly helmet; sorry, I make the rules here).

summary: You followed your Master when he gave in to the dark side, not believing the twisted values the Emperor spew, but because you couldn't imagine being anywhere other than by Steve's side. Even if you accepted the fact Steve's heart may forever belong to the woman he once loved.

warnings: angst; hurt/comfort; soft dark!Steve Rogers; some power imbalance; choking kink; implied age gap (since Steve was the Reader's Master), but Reader is of age

The threat of thudding footsteps caused a spike of fear among the Imperial officers passing in the corridor outside - you sensed the stench of it. You could easily imagine them scattering away as quickly as possible, or trying to blend with the walls.

As cowardly as it was, it was also wise. Finding yourself in the path of an angry Sith Lord would end badly.

Thankfully, the medical droid stitching up your leg had no real human feelings, so it continued its work without a hitch even as the seal to the med bay opened and Steve stormed in.

All in his towering, dark glory.

Black robe swiping the floor, deadly lightsaber strapped to the utility belt, shiny buckles on the reinforced leather gloves on his hands. 

Darth Nomad. Sith Lord.

Once upon a time a great, idealistic Jedi Master, Steve Rogers.

Though the Jedi Order no longer existed and his path had turned dark and bloody, he still remained Steve to you.

Only in privacy. Always in your heart, even as you addressed him as Master or Nomad when other's ears and eyes were on you. He owned you; his claws ran far deeper and clutched stronger than Palpatine’s influence on him.

You harbored a crush on your Master for years, hiding your thoughts and longing every day. As well every night, when you rested in your chamber at the Jedi temple and he returned into the arms of his beloved wife in her lush suite.

When you followed Steve to kneel at the Emperor's feet and pledge loyalty to the dark side, you perfectly sold the lie of the ambitious, proud apprentice who was bitter the Jedi were too weak. You claimed to want to continue your training and be on the winning side, the side of true power.

What you truly wanted was to be with Steve, even if it was only to suffer unrequited love as you helped him drown the world in blood.

The Emperor somehow bought it, or maybe simply thought it useful to have you serve the Empire, no matter your actual motivation. 

However, Steve saw right through you.

He didn't confront you right away. Not for months. Until the two of you were on a solo quest, treading through the lush flora of an outer-rim planet, searching for an ancient artifact - much like you used to do as Jedi.

Did he catch you looking at his profile too long? Did he sense the change in your heartbeat whenever he was close? Was your Force bond so strong that he glimpsed into your desperate dreams?

Or maybe Steve simply knew you so well, after all the years. 

When he reached for you, when he touched you, you knew it could deepen your later suffering. But you still gave in, if only for one night. If only you could taste him and fall apart under his command this one time. 

But it wasn’t just one night. Nor a few chance encounters over the years. 

Whatever it was between the two of you, has become a regularity. A wicked norm that sated, as well enhanced the craving that’s been burning inside of you. It seemed there was never enough; the desire for him simmered beneath your skin every day and your desperate love pushed you further into howling darkness. 

Eerie, that love was what pushed Steve to the dark side as well. 

There were other factors, layers upon layers, but it was the heart that sealed the deal. For the both of you. 

Your tragedy was that Steve’s heart would never be yours. 

So you fed off on everything else you were given - Steve’s attention, his lust, his protectiveness. 

Which was why he stomped through the Executor like a deadly storm cloud - in his case, literally deadly - led by rage.

You knew it was mostly directed at the scum who dared to wound you, but some of it was also at you. For being careless in your small mission, which you attempted to keep secret from him. 

His black cloak floated ominously around Steve as he stepped inside; his fingers clenched into fists, stretching the leather of his gloves.

“How serious is the injury?” Even in anger, Steve’s voice remained calm. 

You opened your mouth to say it’s not that bad, but he gave you a pointed look that meant he wasn’t talking to you and that you were in serious trouble. The kind that may end with your ass bruised. 

“A level two blaster wound to the thigh,” the medical droid reported. “It missed the artery and the muscle will rebuild with the protein enhancer we’ve injected. Patient’s skin has been sutured.”

Steve’s gaze flicked to your bare leg, eyes narrowing as he assessed the dressing over your wound. The droid wasn’t bothered by it, but if a living person was here instead, they’d sweat in fear of his disapproval. 

“The patient may experience impaired mobility for the next day. No other complications are expected.”

Steve nodded, his eyes still on your leg. Though his trimmed beard gentled the sharp line of his jaw, you still saw the nervous tick of muscle. Then his gaze shifted along your half-dressed body and settled on your face. 

He stepped closer to the bed and cupped your chin. Scent of familiar leather pleasantly dispersed the annoying smell of medical antiseptics. 

“I’m gone for two days and you get yourself in trouble, Stardust.” Steve squeezed your chin a tad harder. “Should I keep you at my side at all times, like an irresponsible apprentice freshly in training?”

“Or-” he leaned in; the blue of his eyes searing like his old lightsaber- “maybe I’ll confiscate your weapon and keep you as a bedwarmer only?”

Before you managed to utter I’m sorry for failing, Master, Steve was lifting you in his arms. Stealing your breath with the gesture.

One arm beneath your knees, the other under your back. Your heart stopped for a moment, then rushed in a rapid pattern as he carried you out of the med bay.   

It had to be a bizarre sight - the Dark Lord of the Sith, most feared in the whole galaxy Darth Nomad, who snapped necks with a flick of a wrist; was carrying a woman through the Star Dreadnought.

However, no one dared to stare, or even flick a curious glance your way. 

Steve showed softness when you both laid spent after fucking, or simply wrapping an arm around your middle when you were sleeping, but he never carried you like that. 

Even when he wanted you in a certain position when he fucked you, he either told you to do it the right way, or used the Force to bend your body how he wished. 

Being cradled in his arms, out in the open, soothed that deep longing for true care on his part. Taunted you with deep feeling that you knew would never be real.

“Something’s troubling you.” Steve stated when the double-sealed entrance to his (and yours) chambers closed behind you. “And it’s not your injury, I sense.”

He crossed the space to the bedroom, where cold blue light changed into unsettling red that you learned to associate with safety. Black and red used to mean the enemy, the danger, even death, but Steve made you love it. Conditioned you to see it as the setting you belonged in. 

“Well, my failure in successfully finishing my deal on Serenno,” you shrugged, but instantly cringed as you felt that lie failed miserably.

You weren’t a bad liar. When it came to Steve, however, it was as if the ability was malfunctioning. 

At least ever since he slipped his gloved finger between your lips for the first time and softly commanded you to admit how much you craved him.  

You yelped as Steve suddenly dropped you onto the bed. The muscle in your thigh spasmed, sending a painful jolt. Fingers gripping the dark sheets, you breathed through the wave of ache as you lifted your gaze to look at Steve.

His black robe dropped to the floor. He set his lightsaber down on the black, lacquered table, then unbuckled his utility belt. It fell to the floor with a dull thud. 

“You do not lie to me, Stardust,” Steve’s glare was a warning as he braced his hands on his hips and waited for your honesty.

The reason hidden deep in your heart could bring you more trouble than withholding the truth from Steve. You feared speaking it aloud may cut you out of Steve’s life completely, if he learned that you were desperate for so much more than his cock. 

But there was no way of hiding it from him for long. Not when he was on a hunt to rip that truth out of you.

Steve would get to it one way, or another. One could perhaps be a sexually torturous way, but there was also a chance of him reaping it from your mind with the Force. 

You took a deep breath, forcing a cold sheet to form around your fluttering heart and make you seem indifferent to your own emotions, like you did at the beginning of your life on the dark side. Your fingers tightened their grip on the smooth, dark sheets.

“Your gesture startled me,” you admitted. “I know I’m of certain value to you, as a lover and as a former Padawan. Being carried like that, like you cared, incited foolish thoughts in my head.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed as a frown marred his forehead. His head tilted slightly to the side, his gaze never allowing yours to drop. 

“Elaborate,” he requested, but you knew that despite the calm tone it was a command. 

“It almost ignited a stupid hope to have your heart,” you spat out bitterly, “which would never happen, I’m aware, Master. I know there was only one woman who had your heart and it lies buried with your wife.” 

With the woman who wasn’t strong enough to pull him off that edge of destruction, nor had the guts to fall with him and rule by his side. 

Steve’s hand shot forward, fingers curled in an open grip. The yank of incredibly powerful Force pulled your body upwards, as if you were a featherlight ragdoll. He made your body flow in the air, inches above the floor. 

The pressure around your neck cinched. He wasn’t touching you, yet it felt as if Steve’s gloved fingers were wrapped around the front of your neck, squeezing your throat. 

It spiked fear and adrenaline, but also roused your body in ways no other lover ever could. 

Your body froze in place right in front of Steve, the Force still keeping you hanging in the air. 

“You are right to say my heart was buried with my wife.” Steve growled through clenched teeth. “It’s left in the past that we burned to the ground.” 

A gasp escaped your lips as Steve’s hand firmly wrapped around your neck. Though he still used the Force to move your body, it was also his sheer strength behind his movement as he walked you backwards until your back met the wall.

“You’re not in my heart, Stardust, because I no longer have one,” his hot breath tickled your cheek as Steve’s face inched even closer. 

“You’re not my love. You’re more. You’re  m i n e.”

What filled your heart felt similar to the overwhelming lightness you used to be connected with, once upon a time.

The Force eased back and your body sagged, but Steve’s hand was still firm on your throat. Holding you up as your toes tried to reach the floor and give you some support. 

No, he wouldn’t let you down easily. He would drive in the point that he was your support. He was your sustenance. He would hold you up, as well destroy you. 

“You’re my fucking everything!” 

Steve bit your bottom lip, making you cry out at the sudden sting. Then the flick of his tongue soothed it before he swiped between your parted lips. The way Steve kissed you was more consuming than the darkness you dwelled in; more burning than the lightsaber’s blade. 

When he pulled away, your lips were swollen and tingling, and your cunt was pulsing with need. 

“You’ll repent for endangering what’s mine-” Steve’s chuckle was a brush of tempting darkness as his free hand slid up your wounded thigh- “tomorrow, when it’s fully healed.” 

“Yes, Master,” you moaned as his fingers changed their course and teased your folds beneath the short, medical robe. 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #Darth!Steve Rogers #Jedi!Steve Rogers #dark Steve Rogers #(In the aspect of being a Sith Lord) #soft dark Steve Rogers #(when it comes to reader) #Darkness between the stars

[whereireid]

𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing:dark!boss!steve rogers x virgin!fem reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.9k | warnings: dubious consent ! power imbalance (boss!steve, employee!reader) sexual naivety, height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader], oral m receiving, rough p in v, misogyny, sexism, breeding kink, daddy kink, housewife kink, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, praise kink, spanking, captain kink, dumb baby reader (in steve's eyes), nonconsensual pregnancy, reader loves big mean stevie and loves when he taints her <3

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.

summary: Steve Rogers is in deep need of a new personal assistant. You, an intern for Stark who often loiters around the Avengers Compound, put yourself forward for the position. You believe working under the Captain America will help you to get in good graces throughout your career. Little do you know, being America’s golden boy’s personal assistant means doing a little more than rummaging through files and writing letters.

—

So pretty, so perfect, so poised. Steve Rogers sits back comfortably in his chair, his eyes trained on you, never leaving, not even to acknowledge the poor waitress who puts his beer down in front of him. You speak proper, each word flowing from your mouth with purpose, your speech coherent, and your voice confident.

It makes Steve’s cock twitch in his trousers as he watches you. Your gaze on him doesn’t linger, but you do flinch when he reaches towards his beer too quickly. It makes his stomach flip, and he tries to hold back the hiss that threatens to slip past his lips. He knows he’s America’s Golden Boy, and that he’s supposed to be better than this; but he was raised in the 1930’s, and his ideals surrounding women never really fizzled out.

Your voice fades back in, and as you address him, it snaps Steve out of his train of thought. “So, I’m sure now that we’re well acquainted with each other, Captain Rogers—“

“Please. Just call me Steve. We’ve known one another long enough.”

He quirks a brow as your cheeks flood over in red, before beckoning you to continue your speech. “Well, then, Steve,” you swallow thickly, your voice dropping a few octaves, and Steve senses that he’s embarrassed you. “Now that we’re well - uh, better - acquainted, I hope that you can consider me for the position of your personal assistant.”

“What?” Steve’s blue eyes bore into yours, and they make you brood in anxiety. You feel childish, sitting in front of him in a flowery dress, at what could somewhat be considered an interview, asking to work for him. Perhaps you should’ve dressed nicer, more work appropriate? Yet, before you can blubber on, Steve continues; “doll, if you wanted to work for me, you could’ve just said. Did you do all of this to ask for the position?”

He blinks at you. Embarrassment washes over you like a tsunami wave as you blink back at him. Of course, you could’ve just said you wanted to work for him - you feel naive ever thinking otherwise. Steve’s not a stranger, you practically work with him every day, and he'd be more than enthusiastic to hear you out. He's not one of. the guys at work who ignore women and everything they have to say. He’s nice enough to always say hello to you and sometimes buy you coffee, and flowers if you were down. He's one of the good ones!“I thought it might’ve been inappropriate to ask you whilst you were training.” You shoot him a small smile, trying to ignore how the upwards tug of his lips makes your skin rise with goosebumps.

“Does Stark know you’re applying for this role?”

"He’s actually the one who suggested it.”

Steve takes a long sip of his drink. He stares at you over the rim of the glass, watching you squirm and ponder over his answer. He already knows the answer to your question, but watching you shuffle in your seat and act silly in front of him makes his cock throb, and he enjoys the feeling. You’re so innocent, pressing against the table, wide-eyed, acting as though your tits aren’t pressed together and basically on display for him. The dress is so low-cut. It makes him want to take you right here.

Did you wear that just to get him riled up? “Well, I can’t think of anybody more suitable to fit the position. You know the Compound, you know my office, and I’ve noticed you get on well with higher authorities. You seem like a doting employee.” He kisses his teeth slightly, looking down at the table, before looking up at you through his lashes. He tries to hold back the smirk on his face as he speaks, but it’s impossible not to: “of course, you will also be expected to work somewhat more flexible hours. Later start times, later finishes. We won't always be in the office at the compound - a lot of my additional work files are at my personal home office, but I can always make you up a key to give you easier access."

“Of course,” you chirp, nodding at him enthusiastically. “I’m okay with longer hours, and I can work around you and what you need.”

Steve grins. “Perfect.”

—

It has been about three weeks since you left your position as an intern at Stark Industries and began working for Steve Rogers. It was an exhausting process at first; the sudden change in routine, the heavy workload, the unsociable hours, and Steve often worried you would change your mind. If you couldn't bend for this position, you would break, and he was incredibly worried you'd do the latter. Perhaps because he hadn’t seen you frown so often before, but during the first fortnight of working as his assistant, your lips were always somewhat tugged downwards, and you were always so busy, unable to even joke with him.

You soldiered on, though. Managing to catch up to months worth of missed calls, avoided emails, old paperwork, and forgotten documents. Steve praised you every time you completed a task, and often he found you beaming up at him, prideful and flustered.

Yet, whilst peeking up from his desktop, he finds himself annoyed. You’re sitting quietly opposite him, noting down things and scheduling appointments, and he can’t help the twitch of his cock as he watches you do it. You're not incredibly busy anymore, and yet you're not engaging in any conversation with him. Steve knows you value professionalism, but he only really let you have this job because of his alternative motives when it comes to you.

His eyes flicker back to the computer screen, and then back to you. It's like before his brain can register what he's doing; he's doing it, but he doesn't mind. This is his office, after all, his space. You're his assistant, and if anything, you're supposed to assist him in doing it. His hands are wrapped around his thick, angry cock, and he pumps slowly, watching you intensely.

You're tapping away at your computer so innocently. Your eyes are wide and interested, and clearly whatever your scheduling for Steve has your entire attention because you don't even look up at him. He strokes his cock carefully, and slowly, and his breathing wavers as he runs a finger over his angry, red tip, using some of his precum for lube.

“You okay, Steve?” your voice fills the quiet room, and he looks over at you, his hands still wrapped around his cock. The naivety of your tone makes his cock twitch in his hands, and his pace slows. He makes eye contact with you, never breaking it as he slowly strokes his hand up and down his length. It makes him so much harder that you have no idea what he's doing, and he imagines what your lips would feel like wrapped around him.

“Fine, doll. Just a little sore.” Steve purses his lips as you nod. He meets your eyes, and you hold his gaze, concern plastering over your face.

You're so... modest. Completely unaware of what he's doing, and he loves it. Steve craves you; craves to taint the innocence which consumes you. You're too trusting for your own good, and one of these days, it's going to get you hurt.

Steve just needs to make sure it's him that hurts you, and nobody else.

“You do look awfully red, Steve.” You murmur across from him, concern painting your features. The heavy gaze your boss has on you makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable, but worry overrides any instinctive emotion. “Do you feel hot?”

Steve grunts in agreement with your question. He looks more disheveled than usual. His posture seems hunched, but he seems somewhat relaxed, and his gaze is hard and trained on you. You're unsure as to what's wrong - he's so red, it looks like he's burning up. Perhaps he has a fever, but you're sure the Super Soldier Serum ensures that he doesn't get ill. “Can I get you anything? Paracetamol? A glass of water?” you ask innocently, standing up from your desk chair, slowly walking towards him.

His computer monitor thankfully covers his crotch. Steve’s eyes don’t leave you, and it makes his cock leak when you softly begin to walk over to him. He’s almost certain you own nothing but inappropriate, seductive clothing; he’s seen more of your cleavage these past three weeks than he has anyone else’s, and it’s driving him crazy. The fact he’s managed to hold off from devouring you is insane, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can take.

Being the nice guy just doesn’t seem to be working. The hand which was stroking his cock stills, and he commands you to stop once you’re mere inches away, stood behind his monitor, so small he can hardly see you. “Do you own any appropriate clothing?”

His question is direct and his tone is reprimanding. Your knees wobble, and your head hangs slightly. Shame spreads throughout your body. “I didn’t realise this was inappropriate. My apologies.”

It’s unlike Steve to bark at you. Usually, he’s incredibly soft-spoken and considerate, yet it seems you’ve worn any patience he’s held for you thin. “Doll, every outfit you’ve worn this week has been low-cut and short.” He breathes, and your neck prickles with discomfort when you notice how dark and blown his pupils are. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I don’t think these kinds of… outfits would be appropriate elsewhere. You didn’t wear these outfits when interning for Stark.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your subordinate manner only makes his cock twitch more, and he’s thankful his hand is sheathing his cock, because the precum that trickles out of its covers his skin and not his trousers. “I’ll try to be more considerate next time.”

It’s painful to let go of his length, but he has to, and he shoves it back inside of his trousers and innocently buttons them up. “Are you wearing these suggestive outfits to get a rise out of me?”

You gasp. “No. Never. I - Sir, I aim to be as appropriate and considerate as possible. I’m sorry I’ve been misleading you.” Steve rises from his seat, and you swallow thickly, feeling incredibly small compared to your boss. You’ve often been close to him - side by side, brushing shoulders, but he’s always been soft-spoken and gentle, apologetic and genuinely caring. Now, it seems like his patience is worn thin, and as opposed to seeing a civilian Steve, you feel as though you're standing in front of a soldier. “I can go and change now if you want?”

“No.” His tone is so low it matches that of a growl, and you cower weakly as he towers over you. Fear pulsates in your being as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling incredibly unsafe, and your heart races in your chest. Steve would never hurt me, you remind yourself, he’s one of the good ones.

You open your mouth to speak, but Steve shushes you. His finger splays over your lips, and you feel scolded and childlike. “I think you do it for attention.” His finger pushes against you, as does his body, as he stalks forward and you shuffle backward, trying to keep any space between the two of you. “You know, it’s been hard staying silent for this long. Watching you from afar, never knowing what to say or do.” His hot breath fans your ear, and Steve’s nostrils flare. “Trying to be a gentleman. Buying you coffee and flowers and cards when you were working at the Compound as a way to be friendly and nice. But I don’t think you want that.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You squeak out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Steve’s fingers gently press against your skin, wiping away any that spill, his skin icy against your own. “I-I’ve appreciated the gifts. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He asks, his eyes shooting down at you. You nod your head eagerly, staring up at him, trying to ignore how the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “I don’t think you’re truly sorry. I gave you this job to be my personal assistant. I expected more of you. You’re dressing as whore, and you can’t even apologize correctly.”

You swallow thickly, staring up at him. “‘M sorry. I haven’t meant to present myself that way,” your voice wavers. “What would y-you deem a suitable apology, Steve?”

“Captain.” Steve’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you squeak slightly as he tugs at it. “You only get to call me Steve when you’ve been good, which you haven’t.”

“How should I apologize, Captain?”

Your voice is an incredulous whisper. The subordination you show drives Steve crazy, and it takes everything in him not to force your mouth open and push you onto his cock. No, he needs to coax you into it - make you agree that this is the best way to apologize. Any other way wouldn’t suffice.

It’s as though you can’t believe this is happening - and in a way, Steve can’t, either. He’s always imagined this happening - having you begging him to tell you how to do something in a way that’s deemed fit in his eyes, having you be in pain whilst doing it. He curses slightly, before breathing out, “use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me’. Don’t expect me to repeat myself again.” He warns, blinking down at you, before muttering, “you’ve dressed like a whore, sweetheart. I think it’s only fair the Captain treats you as such.” His thumb drags down your lips, and you look up at him with such hesitation it makes his balls throb. He feels as though the look on your face could make him cum already.

Warmth floods over your cheeks. It feels wrong as Steve’s palms press heavily on your shoulders, the weight of him coaxing you down. A shudder leaves you as he forces you onto your knees in front of him, and you stare at his trousers, which are tight by the groin. “Captain, I don’t think -“ you swallow thickly, shaking as he comes down to unbutton his trousers, and flinching once his hands clasp yours, “-I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, and he glares down at you, relishing in your embarrassment. Your eyelashes are wet and tears prickle your eyes still, “You’re on your knees now, doll.” He huffs, blowing out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Your hands shake as he guides them to his trousers. “You might as well get on with it.”

“No I - I don’t want to.” Your voice wavers as he uses your hands to pry his cock out of his trousers, which is an angry red and seeping with cum, and you feel like scurrying away from it. “I-I haven’t ever done anything like this before.” Steve is stronger than you and the grip he’s got on your wrists makes you feel as though they will snap, so you decide not to, rather cowering away from his length in fear.

“Are you a virgin?” His question makes your head shoot up in embarrassment, your eyes wide and distraught, and he groans. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking virgin.”

“I never said I was,” you mutter, yelping when his hands strike you against the face. Fresh tears fall over old tear stains, and you flinch as his fingers splay over your chin.

He tuts. “Don’t lie to me. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes,” you murmur, shameful, eyes watery as you stare up at him. You sniffle, thankful for his gentle touch, which replaces the cruelty of his hands seconds ago. It makes your heart bloom with warmth as he brushes your face softly with his fingers, although he’s wiping away the pain he’s caused.

“My pretty little baby’s a virgin,” Steve coos, and the tone of his voice makes pressure form in your lower belly. “This mouth has never been around anyone’s cock before? Ever?”

There’s almost a deluded tone in his voice as he presses his tip against your lips. You quiver below him, your eyes trained on him as he pushes himself in your mouth. It feels wrong to do this with him - it feels exploitative, and whilst you opt to pull away from him, the wetness in your panties warns you otherwise. You’re enjoying this, and it’s making you feel terrible. You’re letting your boss take advantage of you and you love it.

You'd be lying if you denied the fact that you found Steve attractive. You had a thing for blonds, and the Golden Boy reputation he had made butterflies form in your belly. The fact he was so unlike what he seems makes your thighs clench and your pussy throb. A Golden Boy with an urge to taint; and somehow, you want to be tainted.

You hum against his cock, and it makes Steve’s stomach explode with heat. The wet of your tongue and the hot of your mouth is everything he’s ever wanted and more, and as your teeth scrape against him, he hisses, trying to hold back the smack he wants to deliver to you. You’re not ready for that yet; you’re a virgin, a sweet girl who needs taking care of. He needs to be gentle with you. “Nuh-uh-uh, doll. Cover those teeth of yours and hollow your cheeks - yes, like that, baby."

Steve breathes heavily as you take it in. It feels intrusive to your mouth as you suck on his cock, your tongue swirling up and down his tip. His hands make their way into your hair, and he gently begins to slide your head up and down, going at a quicker pace. It makes your belly ache with warmth as he does it, the feeling of his hands wrapped in your hair making you feel surprisingly... horny? It makes your face flush when you realize you're enjoying being used by Steve, and you eagerly begin to run your tongue up and down his length, tracing his veins and making sure to pay extra attention to his tip.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his balls slapping against your chin uncomfortably, “make your daddy’s cock nice and wet.” Steve’s pace quickens, and more and more of his cock forces its way into your mouth until your eyes are pricking with tears and you’re almost certain his length is going to suffocate you. Gag after gag follows through with each desperate thrust of his hips, and you clasp your hands around his thigh, looking up at him, eager to breathe. He doesn’t let you.

“My perfect little girl. Let daddy cum in your mouth and he’ll forgive you for dressing like such a whore.”

It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice anyway. In Steve's eyes, he's waited long enough to paint you in his cum, and it doesn’t take long for him to finish. He pulls out slightly, spewing cum over your cheeks and lips, grunting with approval at the sight of you. His innocent little personal assistant, who has never felt a man’s cock before today, has just had her throat fucked as though she were a fleshlight. Steve groans, steadying himself by using your head for support, and your nose crinkles as you swallow his cum which had painted your tongue.

It doesn't taste that bad.

“Best you clean yourself up.” Steve murmurs as you clamber up, knees shaking, the heat between your legs throbbing. “I don’t want my personal assistant to look so... defiled whilst she’s working alongside me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

As you attempt to scurry off to the bathroom, Steve stops you. “I want to make a few things clear about your position as my personal assistant, doll.”

You nod your head, uncertain as to what he might say next. The sight of you covered in his cum makes his heart bloom with pride, and he realises that he has finally got you where he wants you to be. “Your role as my personal assistant is to assist me with anything I deem necessary. Whether that be sexual or otherwise. You got that?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

—

Your body has been aching and sore for days. Forcing yourself up from your desk chair, you jolt slightly at the sudden pain which shoots up through your spine. You look away from Steve’s hot gaze, which makes you feel flustered and funny, and you begin to flip through pages in your folder, desperate to keep yourself occupied and not draw too much attention from Steve.

“Come here, doll.” His voice is gentle, his arms wide and open, urging you in.

You nod your head, opting to agree. You've become conditioned to his sexual advances, and he accepts when you're not in the mood, saying that he doesn't want to pressure you. Steve is a good guy in that way; he wants you to move at your own pace. You only have to do this for a few more months or so, as that’s how long your contract is.

Steve taps his lap. You comply, carefully seating yourself atop of him, crinkling your nose when he gets too close. He notices, but he doesn’t care, leaning backward slightly and brushing a curl away from your face.

“What have I done for you to hate me?” his once confident voice is quiet, oozing with rejection.

You blink at him. “I - I don’t hate you.”

Steve hums, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. You shuffle uncomfortably in his lap, looking up at him with big, doe eyes, and it makes his cock twitch. You’re so innocent, so friendly, a big baby that needs protecting from the world. All Steve wants to do is protect you and keep you safe. “You don’t look at me the same anymore,” he notes quietly. “You used to look at me like I was a savior before you started working under me.”

You shuffle uncomfortably, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves slightly to get comfortable, and your breath hitches in your throat when his clothed crotch rubs against yours. “I still think of you as a savior, Stevie,” you murmur quietly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

You’ve worked for Steve long enough now to know that the way around difficult conversations is to stroke his ego. His hand snakes around your back, and he traipses his fingers up and down your back slowly. “No bra, huh? What have I told you about dressing appropriately?”

“S-sorry, Steve.”

“Mmm, I forgive you, baby.” His hands fall to your skirt, and his fingers slowly ride up them. The material parts with the moving of his hands, and your body flushes with heat when his finger slides up and down your slits. He tuts. “No underwear, either? This'll be a little harder to forgive.”

You squeak slightly as Steve pushes a finger inside of you. “Y-you asked me not to wear underwear when I'm around you.”

“Nuh-uh-uh. I don’t remember that, doll. Don’t make things up to try and make yourself better off.” Except, he does remember it because he practically commanded you to strip your underwear off the last time you wore some when working alongside him. But you don’t need to remember that. Steve wants you to believe everything you do for him is because you want to do it, not because he’s told you to.

“Really?” you squeak as he curls his finger inside of you, ensuring he hits against your spongy spot. You try to ignore the heaviness of Steve’s gaze, and you swallow dryly, stuttering as Steve slips another digit in, beginning to fuck you faster with a ‘come-forth’ motion.

“Yeah, doll. Maybe you just wanted your daddy to have easier access to this pretty pussy of yours. I know how much you like getting that little pussy touched.”

His fingers slow down inside of you, and he gazes down at you with a raised brow. You protest, trying to roll against his fingers, but he grabs your thighs and shakes his head. “Bad girls don’t get to feel good.”

“I’m not bad," you whine, and Steve shakes his head in response.

“You lied to daddy. Said he wanted you to wear no underwear. You said it like I’ve been forcing you not to wear underwear when it was your decision.”

The sharpness in his tone makes you recoil, and you still your lower half. against him, not wanting to make him anymore angrier than he already is. “I-I’m sorry. It was my decision. I’m sorry for lying.”

Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You know, I’ve been holding back these past weeks. I wanted to break you in.” He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine in protest, but your sounds are muffled when he shoves them inside of your mouth. You suck instinctively, and he groans against you. “I’ve been wanting to use that pretty pussy of yours for so long, doll. Been wanting to defile you and make you mine.”

Before you can even react, the tip of his cock is pressing against your slits. “I’ve wanted to fuck you and fill you up with my cum for so long now.” His voice is a growl, and you feel frozen in place, beginning to slowly shake your head. “Fuck you full of my babies. And I know you want that, too.” He groans as he presses harsh kisses against your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin.

“No, Steve,” you breathe heavily as he holds you into place, your own body no match for the strength of his. “I- I don’t want that. I'm not ready for a baby."

“But you are. You just don’t know it yet.” His cock pushes into you, and you let out a whimper, struggling against him. Your walls sheathe him, and you let out a pained squeak. "Look at how well you take me, baby. You were made for me. You’re so wet for me. Look at you, trying to deny your rightful place as my subordinate. My pretty little girl.”

He forces his cock into you slowly. Your walls squeeze around him, sheathing his cock so well, and you whimper, squeezing your nails into his shoulders so hard you feel as though you're going to leave behind crescent moons. "No, Steve," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut, desperately trying to get rid of the burn between your leg. "'t hurts. Stevie, I'm not ready."

"You're ready, baby," he seethes, throwing his head back slightly as he pushes his hips up further. "Your little virgin pussy is hugging my cock so fucking tight."

A mewl escapes you as his cock brushes up against the spongy spot inside of you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, and mascara begins to brew below your lash line. Steve stares at you, his gaze passionate, wondering how he ever got so lucky. Not only has he got you exactly where he needs you, but he's also ruining you, tainting you for other men.

The only way he can truly ensure other men will leave you alone is to fill that belly of yours with his baby, so that's exactly what he intends to do. "Does that feel good?" he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. "You feel so full, baby?"

"So full, Steve," you whine, trying to adjust yourself to gather more comfort. Your walls rub against his cock as you adjust, and it feels kind of... good, so you do it again. Your hips slowly roll atop of him, and you whimper to yourself, pain mixing with pleasure.

Steve lets you bounce on him. It's a slow pace, and it doesn't hurt, though it feels unnatural to have something this big inside of you. It's not that you're entirely sexually naive - you've masturbated before, but this is completely different. Steve is huge, and with every roll of your hips, you can feel him. There's no room for escape, and your stomach flips as you throw your arms around his neck. "Steve," you breathe, eyes flittering shut as the coil inside of you threatens to break and snap, your toes curled in desperation. It feels as though you're just inches away from experiencing pure ecstasy, but you can't reach it, and it's making you so frustrated, you feel as though you could cry. "H-help me, Steve."

"You want Daddy's help when getting off?" he coos, brushing a curl away from your face. You stare down at him, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, and he groans slightly. So cute, so small, so ready for him. This is how you should be - begging for his help, needing him, relying on him. You're just a woman, after all; you need a big, strong man like Steve to take care of you.

His hips thrust up, and it's incredibly painful at first. Steve's pace is nothing compared to yours - you were being slow and gentle with your body, and he just wants to ruin it. His hips smash into you, his cock sliding in and out, and he peppers harsh kisses against your neck. You mewl against him, pressing up against his chest to feel him, your toes curling in your flats, your eyes dazed, mouth gaping. You look like a picture-perfect image, and Steve grunts as he fucks you, wanting to tip you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until the coil snaps. You murmur and shake against him, your thighs clenched as you cum, squirting all over his cock, drenching his balls and trousers. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you yell against him, his cock relentlessly fucking you throughout your orgasm.

"I'm gonna fill you with my babies," he growls, "drown your pussy with my fucking cum."

"No," you cry out, unable to move as he thrusts himself into you; again and again and again. You feel so helpless, so small and weak against him, and you stare up at him. His pupils are dark and blown, and his Adam's apple bobs desperately, his nostrils flaring as his cock twitches inside of you. "Please, pull out!"

"I don't think so, baby," he grunts, and with one final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you. Your walls squeeze him simultaneously, and he lets out a low, powerful groan, as he coaxes your walls with his cum. "Gotta make you a nice little housewife. Gonna have you popping out all of my babies."

Steve brushes away the tears which slip down your cheeks. He doesn't even realize how hard he's been holding you until he lets go, your arms riddled with handprint marks which he's sure will bruise. "Don't cry, doll," he murmurs, "you knew what came with the job."

"No, I didn't," you sniffle, pressing your head into his neck. It's wrong how his warmth and his smell act as a safety valve for you when he's the reason you're so upset. "I would've never - I would've never gotten into this if I knew what you expected from me."

A gentle sob racks your body, and Steve looks down at you, caressing your face gently. "Baby, stop crying. You're ruining that little face of yours." In honesty, Steve's patience is running thin. He's been good to you; caring, doting, paying you well for an easy job, and this is how you react? You cry into his arms after he tells you he's going to pump you full of his children? He's Captain America, for God's sake. You should be begging for it. "Just - Jesus fucking christ," he huffs as you continue to cry, grabbing your face harshly, and the sudden grip shocks you. "Stop crying. If you're going to speak, at least try and be fucking coherent."

Nodding your head, you wipe your eyes, which are tender and you assume, red. "I'm not ready for this," your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve almost feels a bit sorry at the sight of you. "I- I don't want this."

"Only good girls get what they want," Steve states plainly, staring at your disheveled face. He certainly got what he wanted - you look ruined, and you feel it, too. He imagines his cum is mixed with a bit of your blood; what, with him defiling you and all, he probably broke your hymen as well. The thought makes him grin to himself, and he utters, "I don't think you've been good, so you don't get what you want, baby."

"I'm sorry! I just - this doesn't seem like a fair punishment! I don't want this!" You cry out as Steve delivers a harsh smack to your ass, and you gaze up at him pathetically through your lashes as he tuts.

"I don't care if you think it's fair or not. You've been teasing me ever since you were an intern at Stark Industries, doll. I've been waiting to breed you for that long," his voice vibrates against you, and you shake your head, ashamed that you even thought you could get away with arguing against him. He's the Captain, and he has all of the control. "Anyway, you're just a dumb little baby. You have no idea what you want right now. But I do. I know what's good for you. Don't you trust me, baby?"

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[krirebr]

Welcome to Your Life

Pairing: dark vampire!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.75k

Summary: During a drunken night out on vacation, you're brought to a strange club and presented to a mysterious man. Part of Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Warnings: Horror elements, dark elements, mind control, some blood and gore, feeding on humans, captivity, dub/con, SMUT - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @saradika

We're All Monsters

Masterlist

A/N: And here it is, the first part of Vampire Steve's solo story! If you missed his introduction, it was in I Can't Sleep Cause My Bed's On Fire. You don't need to read that before you read this, but some of the world-building (specifically how his club works) might be helpful. Plus, it's a vampire threesome, so 🥵🥵🥵

This is also the first part of the new, super-expanded supernatural universe that I'm doing with @paperweight91, playing off of what I started with my Psycho Killer AU. Big thanks to Chelsea for all her help on this and for just how much fun it's been to come up with ideas with her for this whole universe.

Now, where it might get slightly confusing, but I really hope it doesn't. This story introduces a new character, Cutter, who will eventually be a reader in one of Chelsea's stories in her werewolf half of this au. She is not physically described at all here, other than being a woman. I hope it gets you excited about what @paperweight91 has in store for her.

As always, any comments, reblogs, or asks are very appreciated. You know how much I love this Steve. Please come screech with me about him!!!

You were shaking. That was the only thing you knew. You didn’t know where you were or what you were doing there. Not even how you’d gotten there, just that you were standing in the back room of some club, surrounded by people—were they people? Of course, they were. What else could they be?!—unable to move, and you couldn’t stop shaking.

You’d been on vacation with some friends in Berlin. You’d all decided to have a wild night out together but were quickly separated. While tipsily searching for them at a club, you’d bumped into a man, an American, who told you his name was Cole. And suddenly, looking for your friends didn’t seem as important. He’d told you he knew a great bar just a few blocks away. You didn’t really remember agreeing to go with him, but now you were here, in a room full of strangers who wouldn’t stop leering at you. No one had done anything or even said anything, but you knew in your bones that you were not safe. And yet, you couldn’t move.

Cole, especially, wouldn’t take his eyes off you, your neck in particular. You desperately wished for something to cover up your club attire. A woman was leaning against the wall in the corner, sharpening her ridiculously long nails with a knife. She looked up occasionally, and this time her gaze landed on Cole, a scowl on her face. “You know he gets first taste,” she said, before looking back down in disinterest.

“I know,” he said, his fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh.

“Everything has to get his approval before it goes on the menu,” she continued, still not looking up as she filed her nails to a terrifying point. 

“Yes,” Cole gritted out, “I know that, Cutter. I’m not fucking new.”

“Then stop acting like you’re jonesing for your next fix. You’re that fucking hungry? Go get yourself something to eat that actually is on the menu.” Nothing they were saying made any sense. 

He scowled at her, but started to leave the room, and then, suddenly, stopped. Everyone stopped. Cutter looked up, listening for something, then pushed herself off the wall and made her way over to you. She brushed one of her exceedingly sharp nails over your bottom lip. Looking you in the eye, she breathed, “Kneel, sweetheart.” And you were on your knees before you had any idea what had happened. She smiled at you and added, “Be quiet,” and you knew, in every cell, that you wouldn’t have been able to make any noise if you’d tried. 

One of the doors opened and a tall, broad, beautiful man came into the room and you felt the energy of everything change. It was like it was all, yourself included, suddenly charged with electricity. You’d never felt anything like it. He zeroed in on you instantly and made his way over. You felt the instinct to cower, but it was far away, almost like it was behind a wall. And you still couldn’t move anyway. All you could do was shiver.

The man looked at you carefully. “Pretty,” he said, absently. He brushed his thumb over your lower lip just like Cutter had. Then he gripped your chin and angled it up so you were forced to make eye contact. “Give me your wrist,” he said and you couldn’t explain the feeling that moved through your body, only that you reached your wrist up to him, you had to, and waited for him to take it. He took it in his firm grip and placed his thumb right over your pulse point. He pressed down hard and smiled when you still didn’t move, didn’t react. It was like you didn’t know how. And then, something happened, so quickly you couldn’t process it. Fangs descended into his mouth and he lowered his head to your wrist and bit down hard. It was some of the worst pain you’d ever felt, but you didn’t pull away, didn’t make a sound. It wasn’t until you felt the wetness on your cheeks that you even realized you were crying. It was like all the different parts of you were separated. 

He pulled his teeth from your wrist and then licked the wound clean. He grinned at you and said, “You have excellent taste in cocktails, honey.” Then he looked over at Cutter and his smile dropped. “She’s still drunk. You should have known better.”

Her mouth fell open, and then she flung her hand out at Cole who stood sheepishly on the other side of the room. “Cole’s the one who brought her in!”

He was in front of her in a blink, the arm that was still in the air now in his firm grasp. She grimaced. “And you know exactly how good his judgment is,” he growled.

“Steve,” she whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear her.

The man (could you even call him that? Deep down you knew what he was), Steve, brought his face as close to hers as possible. “When I put you in charge,” he said, so lowly, “I expect you to be in charge.”

She just stared at him for a moment meeting his gaze, then dropped her own and nodded. He smiled fondly, you were surprised to see, and kissed her on the cheek. “You know he needs supervision.”

He made his way back to where you were still kneeling, now cradling your arm. He bent down to you slightly and stroked a hand down your neck. “There’s something there, though,” he said, although you weren’t sure who he was talking to. Certainly not to you. “Underneath everything else. I’ll try her again tomorrow and see how she is when the blood’s pure.”

You gazed up at him, confused, and he gripped your chin in his hand. “You may speak,” he said.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” was all you could manage.

“Oh honey, of course, you don’t,” he said with a grin that frightened you. “The good news is that you’ll never need to understand anything ever again.” He looked back up at the room at large. “Set her up in a room upstairs.” He released your chin and made his way to the exit, pausing as he was almost out the door to call “Cole!” over his shoulder. The other man quickly followed him out of the room.

Cutter came to stand in front of you. She looked you in the eye and said, “Up,” and without thinking, you were on your feet. “Such a good girl,” she cooed. “Follow me,” and suddenly that was all you wanted to do.

The room she took you to was better described as a cell. There was a cot, a toilet, and a sink. No windows. Painted grey. It was tiny. Cutter left as soon as you were inside and you heard the door lock behind her. 

You sat down on the bed and closed your eyes. You felt the urge to panic but it was like your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your heart rate stayed steady, your breaths even. You were calm, even if that was the last thing you wanted to be. 

These people must have done something to you. People, right. You knew what they were. Every single one of them had stared at your neck. Steve had fangs and he’d literally drank your blood. You knew, even if an hour ago you would’ve sworn that was just fantasy. Vampires. You were being held captive by vampires. What the hell?

There was nothing to occupy your time in here except for your thoughts, so you curled up on the cot and tried to convince yourself that it was all a bizarre dream. Eventually, your exhaustion overtook you and you fell asleep. 

You weren’t sure when exactly you woke up. You hadn’t seen a single window since Cole had brought you into the building last night. Because sunlight kills vampires, you thought to yourself, somewhat hysterically. Your memories of the night before were… weird. And not just because you swear someone drank your blood. They were patchy. And yes, you’d been drunk, but not that drunk. Not so drunk that you blacked out small portions of the night. And certainly not so drunk that you hallucinated vampires. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. There was no way out of the cell. Nothing in it that would help you. All you could do was wait for whatever it was that was coming for you.

Sometime later, hours probably, a slit in the door you hadn’t noticed before was opened, and a tray was slid through. Food. You gathered it quickly and sat on the bed. There was a carton of water and a plate with a large salad that was mostly made up of spinach and lentils. Iron-rich food, your mind supplied. The previous night seemed more and more real.

.You thought about refusing the salad, but you were so hungry, so you ate it. It was surprisingly good, but not what you would have chosen for what would probably be your last meal. You lay back down when you were finished, curled up on your side, and daydreamed of something more satisfying than a spinach salad. 

More time passed. You stared at the walls and tried not to freak out. You wondered if your friends had made it back to the hotel. How long it took for them to realize you were missing. Were the police searching for you? Did your family know? You couldn’t help it when the tears started. You were pretty sure you were going to die here.

You dozed in and out for who knows how long. And then the door opened. Steve walked in with Cole behind him, carrying a chair. You jolted up and pressed yourself into the wall. “Stop,” Steve said, and everything did. “Calm down,” and you felt everything in your body slow. Suddenly, you couldn’t access whatever it was that you’d been so scared of. So you sat still and watched him. 

Cole handed Steve the chair and he placed it in front of your cot. He sat down and looked at you. His gaze made you feel so small. He reached out his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers against your knee. A chill ran up your spine, not just fear, but an excitement too, that you couldn’t explain. “Give me your other wrist,” he said, lowly, and you immediately did. He took it in his hand and brought it up to his nose, forcing you to lean forward. He inhaled deeply. “Much better,” he said. “You’re all sobered up now, aren’t you?”

You didn’t respond. You knew, deep inside yourself, that he didn’t want you to. His fangs dropped and you braced yourself, something in the far recesses of your mind knowing that you should be scared. With a slight grin, he sank his teeth into your wrist. The pain was just as bad as the night before but soon, so much quicker than the last time, it was over and Steve was pulling away, his eyes still locked on you.

“Shit,” he breathed.

“What?” Cole asked, from his place by the door. “She’s that bad?”

“No,” Steve growled. “She tastes like sunshine.” He stood up and leaned over you, running the back of one finger across your cheek. “Precious thing.”

You looked up at him and blinked. “Please,” you said, “please, I want to go home.”

“No, honey,” he cooed, so gently, “you’ll never go home again.” As you tried to process that through the fog, he turned to Cole. “Put her in my private reserves. I’ll have her for dinner.” And then he was out of the room.

Cole looked at you, a pout on his face. “Goddamnit,” he grumbled, “I’ve been waiting for a taste.”

“You’re gonna bite me, too?” you asked, alarmed.

He sighed. “Not anymore. I’d rather not face the true death, thanks.” He looked you in the eye. “Come with me.” 

You felt something move through you at that. There was definitely a strong urge to obey that you wouldn’t resist, but it was nothing like what you felt with Steve, or even Cutter, where it was like your body was on strings. It wasn’t a huge weakness, but you were taking note of everything at this point. 

Cole took you through a long series of hallways that you couldn’t hope to keep track of. Cole talked the whole way, mostly inane bits about his frustrations with the pecking order in whatever vampire organization this was. You marveled for a moment at the fact that you were describing something to do with mythical monsters as inane. Finally, just as you arrived at a door not dissimilar to the one you’d just come out of, he concluded with “You’re a really good listener.”

You gaped at him. What did he think was happening here? He’d targeted you, done something to you to bring you here where you were trapped and probably going to die and he thought you cared that he didn’t feel respected enough by his fellow monsters???

But staying alive right now was your primary concern, so you just quietly said, “Thank you,” and let him show you into the room. 

It was much bigger than the cell, but still small, along the lines of a spacious walk-in closet. There was a plush rug under your feet, a deep rose color. A four-poster bed was to one side covered in a big, fluffy comforter that was in a lighter shade of dusty pink and piled with pillows to match. The far wall was entirely made of mahogany built-in bookcases that were completely full of books. There was a soft-looking armchair in the corner by the shelves. You turned back to Cole and asked, “What is this?”

“It’s your room,” he said with a smile. He looked you in the eye. “Now,” he said, and you felt his words travel through your body. He pointed at a door without breaking eye contact, “that’s your bathroom. You’re going to use it now to get very clean and smooth. There are lotions you’ll use after to make yourself soft. There are things in there,” he pointed to a beautiful armoire in the corner, “for you to change into when you’re done. Steve will be back in a few hours and you will be ready for him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice coming out of you without any conscious thought or effort, “I’ll be ready for Steve.”

“Good girl,” he said, and gently patted your cheek. He stood awkwardly, watching you, but now that the command was in you, you were focused on getting to the bathroom so you could get clean. He was in your way.

“I have to get ready for Steve,” you told him, your voice sounding oddly robotic to your own ears.

Cole blinked at you and then sighed. “Right,” he said, sounding almost forlorn. He stared at you again and then shook his head. “I’ll see you again soon,” he said, stroking one hand down your arm. And then he finally left.

It was the most luxurious shower of your life. 

When you came out of the bathroom, clean, smooth, and more moisturized than you’d ever been, you opened the armoire to find a small collection of slips in different sizes hanging in it. You found the one that would fit you best and put it on. It was black, a combination of silk and lace. It felt expensive against your skin. You searched the drawers, and next to a collection of silk briefs, you found a pair of black lace panties that would work for you. 

Once you were dressed (or as dressed as you were going to be with what was available), you moved to the bookshelves. They were chock full of every genre and category you could think of. Vaunted classics next to dime store romances. Shakespeare collections and airport schlock. You ran your fingers across the spines, when, suddenly, from behind you– 

“If there’s something you particularly enjoy, let me know and I’ll have someone get it for you.” 

You spun around to find Steve just inches from you. You hadn’t heard a noise when he’d come in. There was a coldness emanating from him that made goosebumps rise along your flesh. Your breath caught and he grinned. You inhaled and asked, “You aren’t going to kill me?”

He laughed. “Oh no, Sunshine. You’re too delicious. I’m going to be feeding from you for a long, long time.”

You tried to back up, but the wall of bookcases blocked you. You pressed yourself into it anyway. He opened his mouth and you hurried to say “Please don’t make me calm down!”

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. “Explain,” he commanded and you were obeying before you even registered the word.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I feel it when you tell me to do things. And I– I don’t know. I don’t know.” You wanted to obey, every part of you was trying, but you had no vocabulary for any of what this was. So you were left chanting, “I don’t know,” over and over. 

“Stop,” he said, and of course, everything did. “You can feel it?” he asked. “The compulsion? You actually feel it move through your body?”

The word was new to you, but you knew what he meant. You nodded and he hummed. “Oh, you are very interesting, aren’t you, pet?” 

You didn’t say anything to that, just watched him warily. He gave you a sharklike grin that sent chills down your spine and said “Now, calm down.”

And just like before, you felt everything inside you slow. Your body sagged a bit against the shelves, no longer trying to push your way through them.

“There,” he said, cupping your face in his large hand. “Isn’t that better, little pet?”

He guided you to the armchair and sat down in it, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel the supernatural strength in his thighs as you settled on top of him, sidesaddle, as he took all of your weight without any reaction at all. He scratched his thumbnail down your jugular and you closed your eyes. “It hurts,” you said, your tone surprisingly flat for how afraid of all this you’d been just a moment before.

“Hmm?” he questioned, as he nuzzled his nose along your throat.

“When you bite me,” you said, still so calm, “it hurts so much.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, I’ll make it feel just as good for you as it will for me.”

With that, he moved one of his hands in between your legs, slowly sliding it up your thigh. His face was fully in the crook of your neck when he mumbled “Feel this,” and you felt the command vibrate through your whole body. The calmness that had flattened you faded away and you let out a little whine when his hand reached your mound. He pushed your panties to the side and slid his fingers between your folds. You gasped as he quickly found your clit, tracing slow lazy circles around it. You tried to grind down onto his hand and you felt him huff a laugh into your neck. His tongue darted out, licking a wide stripe all along your vein. You let out another whine, so desperate this time. 

He chuckled again. “I was going to make you get wet for me,” he said, as his fingers began to prod at your hole gently, his thumb still working at your clit, “but I don’t need to, do I? Or at least, not with my voice.” He was right, you were already soaking, and there was no resistance as he slipped one finger inside of you. You squirmed against his hand and he added another finger. 

His mouth was still on your neck, lapping and nipping at your jugular, but he hadn’t sunk his teeth in yet. He scissored his fingers for a moment, stretching you so good that you cried out before he added a third. They stroked inside your walls, looking for your spot. He found it and you threw your head back. 

“Come on,” he growled, “give me what I need.” He curled his fingers, scraping against that place inside you just right. You screamed as you were thrown over the edge of your orgasm and that’s the moment he finally sunk his fangs into your neck. You felt it, you did. The pain was just as intense as before but mingled with some of the strongest pleasure you’d ever felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your body spasmed around his fingers as he loudly sucked from your neck. You swore that you could feel the blood rushing to both places. You babbled as you coasted along the waves of your orgasm, feeling like it would never end. Even as the aftershocks quieted and slowed down, his mouth was still latched to your neck, taking what he needed from you. Your body was fully collapsed into his now. Everything offered up for the taking. 

Finally, his teeth left you and he gently licked the blood from your skin. He slowly removed his fingers from you and you whined at the emptiness. He brought them up to your lips. “Clean up your mess,” he commanded and your mouth dropped open without thinking. He slid his fingers in and you swirled your tongue around them. You tasted yourself, sweet and musky, as you sucked him clean. He pulled them out with a soft pop and wiped them on the bodice of your slip. 

You looked at his face. He still had your blood on his lips. You felt the odd urge to kiss him but didn’t have the chance as he pushed you off his lap. Your knees buckled, too weak to stand. He laughed gently, like you might at a cute animal that was struggling, as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed. He laid you down and tucked you in. “Rest up, Sunshine,” he cooed, and your body did as it was told, quickly sinking into sleep. “I’ll be back for more soon.”

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